THE TRIAL AND DEATH OF JESUS CHRIST A Devotional History of our Lord's Passion. BY JAMES STALKER, D. D. AUTHOR OF "LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST, " "LIFE OF ST. PAUL, " "IMAGO CHRISTI, "ETC. CRUX DOMINI PALMA, CEDRUS, CYPRESSUS, OLIVA. HODDER & STOUGHTON NEW YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1894, BY A. C. ARMSTRONG & SON. TO MY WIFE PREFACE Ever since I wrote, in a contracted form, _The Life of Jesus Christ_, the desire has slumbered in my mind to describe on a much more extendedscale the closing passages of the Saviour's earthly history; and, although renewed study has deepened my sense of the impossibility ofdoing these scenes full justice, yet the subject has never ceased toattract me, as being beyond all others impressive and remunerative. The limits of our Lord's Passion are somewhat indeterminate. Krummacher begins with the Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem, Tauler withthe Feet-washing before the Last Supper, and Rambach with Gethsemane;most end with the Death and Burial; but Grimm, a Roman Catholic, thelatest writer on the subject, means to extend his _Leidensgeschichte_to the end of the Forty Days. Taking the word "passion" in the strictsense, I have commenced at the point where, by falling into the handsof His enemies, our Lord was deprived of voluntary activity; and I havefinished with the Burial. No doubt the same unique greatness belongsto the scenes of the previous evening; and I should like to write ofChrist among His Friends as I have here written of Him among His Foes;but for this purpose a volume at least as large as the present onewould be requisite; and the portion here described has an obvious unityof its own. The bibliography of the Passion is given with considerable fulness inZöckler's _Das Kreuz Christi_; but a good many of the books thereenumerated may be said to have been superseded by the monumental workof Nebe, _Die Leidensgeschichte unsers Herrn Hesu Christi_ (2 vols. , 1881), which, though not a work of genius, is written on socomprehensive a plan and with such abundance of learning that nothingcould better serve the purpose of anyone who wishes to draw theskeleton before painting the picture. Of the numerous Lives of Christthose by Keim and Edersheim are worthy of special notice in this partof the history, because of the fulness of information from classicalsources in the one and from Talmudical in the other. Steinmeyer(_Leidensgeschichte_) is valuable on apologetic questions. On theSeven Words from the Cross there is an extensive special literature. Schleiermacher and Tholuck are remarkably good; and there are volumesby Baring-Gould, Scott Holland and others. In the sub-title I have called this book a Devotional History, becausethe subject is one which has to be studied with the heart as well asthe head. But I have not on this account written in the declamatoryand interrogatory style common in devotional works. I have to confessthat some even of the most famous books on the Passion are to meintolerably tedious, because they are written, so to speak, in oh's andah's. Surely this is not essential to devotion. The scenes of thePassion ought, indeed, to stir the depths of the heart; but thispurpose is best attained, not by the narrator displaying his ownemotions, but, as is shown in the incomparable model of the Gospels, bythe faithful exhibition of the facts themselves. GLASGOW, 1894. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. THE ARREST Matt. Xxvi. 47-56; Mark xiv. 43-50; Luke xxii. 47-53; John viii. 1-11. II. THE ECCLESIASTICAL TRIAL Matt. Xxvi. 57-68; Mark xiv. 51-65; Luke xxii. 54-71; John xviii. 12-14, 19-24. III. THE GREAT DENIAL Matt. Xxvi. 69-75; Mark xiv. 66-72; Luke xxii. 54-62; John xviii. 15-18, 25-7. IV. THE CIVIL TRIAL Matt. Xxvii. 11; Mark xv. 2; Luke xxiii. 2-4; John xviii. 28-38. V. JESUS AND HEROD Luke xxiii. 5-12. VI. BACK TO PILATE Matt. Xxvii. 15-23; Mark xv. 6-14; Luke xxiii. 13-25; John xviii. 39, 40. VII. THE CROWN OF THORNS Matt. Xxvii. 26-30; Mark xv. 15-20; Luke xxiii. 25; John xix. 1-5. VIII. THE SHIPWRECK OF PILATE Matt. Xxvii. 24, 25; Mark xv. 15; Luke xxiii. 25; John xix. 5-16. IX. JUDAS ISCARIOT Matt. Xxvii. 3-10; Acts i. 18, 19. X. VIA DOLOROSA Matt. Xxvii. 31-3; Mark xv. 20, 21; Luke xxiii. 26; John xix. 16, 17. XI. THE DAUGHTERS OF JERUSALEM Luke xxiii. 27-31. XIL. CALVARY Matt. Xxvii. 33-8; Mark xv. 27, 28; Luke xxiii. 32, 33; John xix. 18-22. XIII. THE GROUPS ROUND THE CROSS Matt. Xxvii. 39-44, 55, 56; Mark xv. 29-32; Luke xxiii. 35-7, 49; Johnxix. 23-5. XIV. THE FIRST WORD FROM THE CROSS Luke xxiii. 34. XV. THE SECOND WORD FROM THE CROSS Luke xxiii. 39-43. XVI. THE THIRD WORD FROM THE CROSS John xix. 25-27. XVII. THE FOURTH WORD FROM THE CROSS Matt. Xxvii. 46-9; Mark xv. 34-6. XVIII. THE FIFTH WORD FROM THE CROSS John xix. 28. XIX. THE SIXTH WORD FROM THE CROSS John xix. 30. XX. THE SEVENTH WORD FROM THE CROSS Luke xxiii. 46. XXI. THE SIGNS Matt. Xxvii. 50-4; Mark xv. 38, 39; Luke xxiii. 44, 45, 47. XXII. THE DEAD CHRIST John xix. 31-7. XXIII. THE BURIAL Matt. Xxvii. 57-61; Mark xv. 42-7; Luke xxiii. 50-6; John xix. 38-42. CHAPTER I. THE ARREST Our study of the closing scenes of the life of our Lord begins at thepoint where He fell into the hands of the representatives of justice;and this took place at the gate of Gethsemane and at the midnight hour. On the eastern side of Jerusalem, the ground slopes downwards to thebed of the Brook Kedron; and on the further side of the stream risesthe Mount of Olives. The side of the hill was laid out in gardens ororchards belonging to the inhabitants of the city; and Gethsemane wasone of these. There is no probability that the enclosure now pointedout to pilgrims at the foot of the hill is the actual spot, or that thesix aged olive trees which it contains are those to the silent shadowsof which the Saviour used to resort; but the scene cannot have been faraway, and the piety which lingers with awe in the traditional sitecannot be much mistaken. The agony in Gethsemane was just over, when "lo, " as St. Matthew says, "Judas, one of the twelve, came, and with him a great multitude. " Theyhad come down from the eastern gate of the city and were approachingthe entrance to the garden. It was full moon, and the black mass waseasily visible, moving along the dusty road. The arrest of Christ was not made by two or three common officers ofjustice. The "great multitude" has to be taken literally, but not inthe sense of a disorderly crowd. As it was at the instance of theecclesiastical authorities that the apprehension took place, theirservants--the Levitical police of the temple--were to the front. But, as Jesus had at least eleven resolute men with Him, and these mightrouse incalculable numbers of His adherents on the way to the city, ithad been considered judicious to ask from the Roman governor a divisionof soldiers, [1] which, at the time of the Passover, was located in thefortress of Antonia, overlooking the temple, to intervene in anyemergency. And some of the members of the Sanhedrim had even comethemselves, so eager were they to see that the design should notmiscarry. This composite force was armed with swords and staves--theformer weapon belonging perhaps to the Roman soldiers and the latter tothe temple police--and they carried lanterns and torches, probablybecause they expected to have to hunt for Jesus and His followers inthe recesses of His retreat. Altogether it was a formidable body: theywere determined to make assurance doubly sure. I. The leader of them was Judas. Of the general character of this man, and the nature of his crime, enough will be said later; but here wemust note that there were special aggravations in his mode of carryingout his purpose. He profaned the Passover. The better day, says the proverb, the betterdeed. But, if a deed is evil, it is the worse if it is done on asacred day. The Passover was the most sacred season of the entireyear; and this very evening was the most sacred of the Passover week. It was as if a crime should in Scotland be committed by a member of theChurch on the night of a Communion Sabbath, or in England on ChristmasDay. He invaded the sanctuary of his Master's devotions. Gethsemane was afavourite resort of Jesus; Judas had been there with Him, and he knewwell for what purpose He frequented it. But the respect due to a placeof prayer did not deter him; on the contrary, he took advantage of hisMaster's well-known habit. But the crowning profanation, for which humanity will never forgivehim, was the sign by which he had agreed to make his Master known toHis enemies. It is probable that he came on in front, as if he did notbelong to the band behind; and, hurrying towards Jesus, as if toapprise Him of His danger and condole with Him on so sad a misfortuneas His apprehension, he flung himself on His neck, sobbing, "Master, Master!" and not only did he kiss Him, but he did so repeatedly orfervently: so the word signifies. [2] As long as there is true, purelove in the world, this act will be hated and despised by everyone whohas ever given or received this token of affection. It was a sinagainst the human heart and all its charities. But none can feel itshorror as it must have been felt by Jesus. That night and the next dayHis face was marred in many ways: it was furrowed by the bloody sweat;it was bruised with blows; they spat upon it; it was rent with thorns:but nothing went so close to His heart as the profanation of this kiss. As another said, who had been similarly treated: "It was not an enemythat reproached me, then I could have borne it; neither was it he thathated me that did magnify himself against me, then I would have hidmyself from him; but it was thou, a man mine equal, my guide and mineacquaintance; we took sweet counsel together, and walked to the houseof God in company. " [3] Before the kiss was given, Jesus stillreceived him with the old name of Friend; but, after being stung withit, He could not keep back the annihilating question, "Judas, betrayestthou the Son of man with a kiss?" The kiss was the sign of discipleship. In the East, students used tokiss their rabbis; and in all likelihood this custom prevailed betweenChrist and His disciples. When we become His disciples, we may be saidto kiss Him; and every time we renew the pledge of our loyalty we maybe said to repeat this act. We do so especially in the Lord's Supper. In our baptism He may be said to take us up in His arms and kiss us; inthe other sacrament we obtain the opportunity of returning this mark ofaffection. II. Probably Judas, being ahead of the band he was leading, went somewhatinto the shadows of the garden to reach Jesus; and no doubt it wasexpected that Jesus would try to get away. But, instead of doing so, He shook Himself free from Judas and, coming forward at once into themoonlight, demanded, "Whom seek ye?" At this they were so startled that they reeled back and, stepping oneon another, fell to the ground. Similar incidents are related of famous men. The Roman Marius, forinstance, was in prison at Minturnae when Sylla sent orders that heshould be put to death. A Gaulish slave was sent to dispatch him; but, at the sight of the man who had shaken the world, and who cried out, "Fellow, darest thou to slay Caius Marius?" the soldier threw down hisweapon and fled. [4] There are many indications scattered through the Gospels that, especially in moments of high emotion, there was somethingextraordinarily subduing in the aspect and voice of Christ. [5] On theoccasion, for example, when He cleared the temple, the hardenedprofaners of the place, though numerous and powerful, fled in terrorbefore Him. And the striking notice of Him as He was going up toJerusalem for the last time will be remembered: "Jesus went beforethem, and they were amazed; and, as they followed, they were afraid. " On this occasion the emotion of Gethsemane was upon Him--the rapt senseof victory and of a mind steeled to go through with its purpose--andperhaps there remained on His face some traces of the Agony, whichscared the onlookers. It is not necessary to suppose that there wasanything preternatural, though part of the terror of His captors mayhave been the dread lest He should destroy them by a miracle. Evidently Judas was afraid of something of this kind when he said, "Take Him and lead Him away safely. " The truth is, they were caught, instead of catching Him. It was amean, treacherous errand they were on. They were employing a traitoras their guide. They expected to come upon Christ, perhaps when He wasasleep, in silence and by stealth; or, if He were awake, they thoughtthat they would have to pursue Him into a lurking-place, where theywould find Him trembling and at bay. They were to surprise Him, but, when He came forth fearless, rapt and interrogative, He surprised them, and compelled them to take an altogether unexpected attitude. Hebrought all above board and put them to shame. How ridiculous now looked their cumbrous preparations--all thesesoldiers, the swords and staves, the torches and lanterns, now burningpale in the clear moonlight. Jesus made them feel it. He made themfeel what manner of spirit they were of, and how utterly they hadmistaken His views and spirit. "Whom seek ye?" He asked them again, tocompel them to see that they were not taking Him, but that He wasgiving Himself up. He was completely master of the situation. Singling out the Sanhedrists, who probably at that moment would ratherhave kept in the background, He demanded, pointing to their excessivepreparations, "Be ye come out as against a thief, with swords andstaves? When I was daily with you in the temple, ye stretched forth nohands against Me. " He, a solitary man, though He knew how many wereagainst Him, had not been afraid: He taught daily in the temple--in themost public place, at the most public hour. But they, numerous andpowerful as they were, yet were afraid, and so they had chosen themidnight hour for their nefarious purpose. "This is your hour, " Hesaid, "and the power of darkness. " This midnight hour is your hour, because ye are sons of night, and the power ye wield against Me is thepower of darkness. So spake the Lion of the tribe of Judah! So will He speak on that daywhen all His enemies shall be put under His feet. "Kiss the Son, lestHe be angry, and ye perish from the way when His wrath is kindled but alittle. Blessed are all they that put their trust in Him. " III. We cannot recall to mind too often that it was the victory in theGarden that accounted for this triumph outside the gate. Theirresistible dignity and strength here displayed were gained bywatching and prayer. This, however, is made still more impressively clear by the fate ofthose who did not watch and pray. On them everything came as ablinding and bewildering surprise. They were aroused out of profoundslumber, and came stumbling forward hardly yet awake. When hands werelaid on Jesus, one of the disciples cried, "Shall we smite with thesword?" And, without waiting for an answer, he struck. But what aridiculous blow! How like a man half-awake! Instead of the head, heonly smote the ear. This blow would have been dearly paid for had notJesus, with perfect presence of mind, interposed between Peter and theswords which were being drawn to cut him down. "Suffer ye thus far, "He said, keeping the soldiers back; and, touching the ear, He healedit, and saved His poor disciple. Surely it was even with a smile that Jesus said to Peter, "Put up againthy sword into his place; for all they that take the sword shall perishwith the sword. " Inside the scabbard, not outside, was the sword'splace; it was out of place in this cause; and those who wield the swordwithout just reason, and without receiving the orders of competentauthority, are themselves liable to give life for life. But it was with the high-strung eloquence with which He had spoken toHis enemies that Jesus further showed Peter how inconsistent was hisact. It was inconsistent with his Master's dignity; "For, " said He, "if I ask My Father, He would presently give Me more than twelvelegions of angels;" and what against such a force were thismiscellaneous band, numbering at the most the tenth part of a legion ofmen? It was inconsistent with Scripture: "How then shall theScriptures be fulfilled, that thus it must be?" It was inconsistentwith His own purpose and His Father's will: "The cup which My Fatherhath given Me, shall I not drink it?" Poor Peter! On this occasion he was thoroughly like himself. Therewas a kind of rightness and nobleness in what he did; but it was in thewrong place. If he had only been as prompt inside Gethsemane to dowhat he was bidden as outside it to do what he was not bidden! Howmuch better if he could have drawn the spiritual sword and cut on theear which was to be betrayed by a maid-servant's taunt! Peter'sconduct on this occasion, as often on other occasions, showed how poora guide enthusiasm is when it is not informed with the mind and spiritof Christ. IV. Perhaps it was by the recollection of how deeply he had vowed to stickby Christ, even if he should have to die with Him, that Peter waspricked on to do something. The others, however, had said the samething. Did they remember it now? It is to be feared, not: theapparition of mortal danger drove everything out of their minds but theinstinct of self-preservation. Sometimes, in cases of severe illness, especially of mental disease, the curious effect may be observed--thata face into which years of culture have slowly wrought the stamp ofrefinement and dignity entirely loses this, and reverts to the originalpeasant type. So the fright of their Master's arrest, coming sosuddenly on the prayerless and unprepared disciples, undid, for thetime, what their years of intercourse with Him had effected; and theysank back into Galilean fishermen again. This was really what theywere from the arrest to the resurrection. Here again their conduct is in absolute contrast with their Master's. As a mother-bird, when her brood is assailed, goes forward to meet theenemy, or as a good shepherd stands forth between his flock and danger, so Jesus, when His captors drew nigh, threw Himself between them andHis followers. It was partly with this in view that He went so boldlyout and concentrated attention on Himself by the challenge, "Whom seekye?" When they replied, "Jesus of Nazareth, " He said, "I am He: iftherefore ye seek Me, let these go their way. " And the fright intowhich they were thrown made them forget His followers in their anxietyto secure Himself. This was as He intended. St. John, in narrating it, makes the curiousremark, that this was done that the saying might be fulfilled which Hespake, "Of them which Thou gavest Me have I lost none. " This sayingoccurs in His great intercessory prayer, offered at the first Communiontable; but in its original place it evidently means that He had lostnone of them in a spiritual sense, whereas here it seems to have onlythe sense of losing any of them by the swords of the soldiers or by thecross, if they had been arrested with Him. But a deep hint underliesthis surface meaning. St. John suggests that, if any of them had beentaken along with Him, the likelihood is that they would have beenunequal to the crisis: they would have denied Him, and so, in thesadder sense, would have been lost. Jesus, knowing too well that this was the state of the case, made forthem a way of escape, and "they all forsook Him and fled. " It wasperhaps as well, for they might have done worse. Yet what ananticlimax to the asseveration which everyone of them had made thatvery evening, "If I should die with Thee, I will not deny Thee in anywise!" I have sometimes thought what an honour it would have been toChristianity, what a golden leaf in the history of human nature, hadone or two of them--say, the brothers James and John--been strongenough to go with Him to prison and to death. We should, indeed, havemissed St. John's writings in that case--his Revelation, Gospel andEpistles. But what a revelation that would have been, what a gospel, what a living epistle! It was not, however, to be. Jesus had to go unaccompanied: "I havetrodden the winepress alone; and of the people there was none with Me. "So they "bound Him and led Him away. " [1] _Speira_=cohors, tenth part of legion. See Ramsay, R. A. , 381. [2] _katephilesen_. It is used of the woman who was a sinner, when shekissed the feet of the Saviour. [3] Psalm lv. 13-14. [4] Other instances in Süskind, _Passionsschule_, _in loc_. [5] See fuller details in _Imago Christi_, last chapter. CHAPTER II. THE ECCLESIASTICAL TRIAL Over the Kedron, up the slope to the city, through the gates, along thesilent streets, the procession passed, with Jesus in the midst;midnight stragglers, perhaps, hurrying forward from point to point toask what was ado, and peering towards the Prisoner's face, before theydiverged again towards their own homes. [1] He was conducted to theresidence of the high priest, where His trial ensued. Jesus had to undergo two trials--the one ecclesiastical, the othercivil; the one before Caiaphas the high priest, the other beforePontius Pilate the governor. The reason of this was, that Judaea was at that time under Roman rule, forming a portion of the Roman province of Syria and administered by aRoman official, who resided in the splendid new seaport of Caesarea, fifty miles away from Jerusalem, but had also a palace in Jerusalem, which he occasionally visited. It was not the policy of Rome to strip the countries of which shebecame mistress of all power. She flattered them by leaving in theirhands at least the insignia of self-government, and she conceded tothem as much home rule as was compatible with the retention of herparamount authority. She was specially tolerant in matters ofreligion. Thus the ancient ecclesiastical tribunal of the Jews, theSanhedrim, was still allowed to try all religious questions and punishoffenders. Only, if the sentence chanced to be a capital one, the casehad to be re-tried by the governor, and the carrying out of thesentence, if it was confirmed, devolved upon him. It was at the instance of the ecclesiastical authorities that Jesus wasarrested, and they condemned Him to death; but they were not at libertyto carry out their sentence: they had to take Him before Pilate, whochanced at the time to be in the city, and he tried the case overagain, they of course being the accusers at his bar. Not only were there two trials, but in each trial there were threeseparate stages or acts. In the first, or ecclesiastical trial, Jesushad first to appear before Annas, then before Caiaphas and theSanhedrim during the night, and again before the same body afterdaybreak. And in the second, or civil trial, He appeared first beforePilate, who refused to confirm the judgment of the Jews; then Pilateattempted to rid himself of the case by sending the Culprit to Herod ofGalilee, who happened also to be at the time in Jerusalem; but the casecame back to the Roman governor again, and, against his conscience, heconfirmed the capital sentence. But let me explain more fully what were the three acts in theecclesiastical trial. [2] Jesus, we are informed by St. John, was taken first to Annas. This wasan old man of seventy years, who had been high priest twenty yearsbefore. As many as five of his sons succeeded him in this office, which at that period was not a life appointment, but was generally heldonly for a short time; and the reigning high priest at this time, Caiaphas, was his son-in-law. Annas was a man of very greatconsequence, the virtual head of ecclesiastical affairs, thoughCaiaphas was the nominal head. He had come originally from Alexandriain Egypt on the invitation of Herod the Great. He and his family werean able, ambitious and arrogant race. As their numbers multiplied, they became a sort of ruling caste, pushing themselves into allimportant offices. They were Sadducees, and were perfect types of thatparty--cold, haughty, worldly. They were intensely unpopular in thecountry; but they were feared as much as they were disliked. Greedy ofgain, they ground the people with heavy ritual imposts. It is saidthat the traffic within the courts of the temple, which Jesus condemnedso sternly a few days before, was carried on not only with theirconnivance but for their enrichment. If this was the case, the conductof Jesus on that occasion may have profoundly incensed thehigh-priestly caste against Him. Indeed, it was probably the depth of his hatred which made Annas wishto see Jesus in the hands of justice. The wary Sadducee had in alllikelihood taken a leading part in the transaction with Judas and inthe sending out of the troops for Christ's apprehension. He, therefore, waited out of bed to see what the upshot was to be; andthose who took Jesus brought Him to Annas first. But whateverinterrogation Annas may have subjected Him to was entirely informal. [3] It allowed time, however, to get together the Sanhedrim. Messengerswere dispatched to scour the city for the members at the midnight hour, because the case was urgent and could not brook delay. None knew whatmight happen if the multitude, when it awoke in the morning, found thepopular Teacher in the hands of His unpopular enemies. But, if thetrial were all over before daybreak and Jesus already in the stronghands of the Romans before the multitude had learnt that anything wasgoing on, there would be nothing to fear. So the Sanhedrim wasassembled under cloud of night; and the proceedings went forward in thesmall hours of the morning in the house of Caiaphas, to which Jesus hadbeen removed. This was not strictly legal, however, because the letter of the law didnot allow this court to meet by night. On this account, although theproceedings were complete and the sentence agreed upon during thenight, it was considered necessary to hold another sitting at daybreak. This was the third stage of the trial; but it was merely a briefrehearsal, for form's sake, of what had been already done. [4]Therefore, we must return to the proceedings during the night, whichcontain the kernel of the matter. Imagine, then, a large room forming one side of the court of anOriental house, from which it is separated only by a row of pillars, sothat what is going on in the lighted interior is visible to thoseoutside. The room is semicircular. Round the arc of the semicirclethe half-hundred or more[5] members sit on a divan. Caiaphas, thepresident, occupies a kind of throne in the centre of the oppositewall. In front stands the Accused, facing him, with the jailers on theone side and the witnesses on the other. How ought any trial to commence? Surely with a clear statement of thecrime alleged and with the production of witnesses to support thecharge. But, instead of beginning in this way, "the high priest askedJesus of His disciples and of His doctrine. " The insinuation was that He was multiplying disciples for some secretdesign and teaching them a secret doctrine, which might be construedinto a project of revolution. Jesus, still throbbing with theindignity of being arrested under cloud of night, as if He were anxiousto escape, and by a force so large as to suggest that He was the headof a revolutionary band, replied, with lofty self-consciousness, "Whyaskest thou Me? Ask them that heard Me what I have said unto them;behold, they know what I said. " Why had they arrested Him if they hadyet to learn what He had said and done? They were trying to make Himout to be an underground schemer; but they, with their arrests insecrecy and their midnight trials, were themselves the sons of darkness. Such simple and courageous speech was alien to that place, which knewonly the whining of suppliants, the smooth flatteries of sycophants, and the diplomatic phrases of advocates; and a jailer, perhaps seeingthe indignant blush mount into the face of the high priest, clenchedhis fist and struck Jesus on the mouth, asking, "Answerest Thou thehigh priest so?" Poor hireling! better for him that his hand hadwithered ere it struck that blow. Almost the same thing once happenedto St. Paul in the same place, and he could not help hurling back astinging epithet of contempt and indignation. Jesus was betrayed intono such loss of temper. But what shall be said of a tribunal, and anecclesiastical tribunal, which could allow an untried Prisoner to bethus abused in open court by one of its minions? The high priest had, however, been stopped on the tack which he hadfirst tried, and was compelled to do what he ought to have begunwith--to call witnesses. But this, too, turned out a pitiful failure. They had not had time to get a charge properly made out and witnessescited; and there was no time to wait. Evidence had to be extemporized;and it was swept up apparently from the underlings and hangers on ofthe court. It is expressly said by St. Matthew that "they sought falsewitness against Jesus to put Him to death. " To put Him to death waswhat in their hearts they were resolved upon, --they were only trying totrump up a legal pretext, and they were not scrupulous. The attemptwas, however, far from successful. The witnesses could not be got toagree together or to tell a consistent story. Many were tried, but thefiasco grew more and more ridiculous. At length two were got to agree about something they had heard fromHim, out of which, it was hoped, a charge could be constructed. Theyhad heard Him say, "I will destroy this temple that is made with hands, and within three days I will build another made without hands. " It wasa sentence of His early ministry, obviously of high poetic meaning, which they were reproducing as the vulgarest prose; although, even thusinterpreted, it is difficult to see what they could have made of it;because, if the first half of it meant that He was to destroy thetemple, the second promised to restore it again. The high priest sawtoo well that they were making nothing of it; and, starting up andspringing forward, he demanded of Jesus, "Answerest Thou nothing? Whatis it which these witness against Thee?" He affected to believe thatit was something of enormity that had been alleged; but it was reallybecause he knew that nothing could be founded on it that he gave way tosuch unseemly excitement. Jesus had looked on in absolute silence while the witnesses against Himwere annihilating one another; nor did He now answer a word in responseto the high priest's interruption. He did not need to speak: silencespoke better than the loudest words could have done. It brought hometo His judges the ridiculousness and the shamefulness of theirposition. Even their hardened consciences began to be uneasy, as thatcalm Face looked down on them and their procedure with silent dignity. It was by the uneasiness which he was feeling that the high priest wasmade so loud and shrill. In short, he had been beaten along this second line quite as completelyas he had been along the first. But he had still a last card, and nowhe played it. Returning to his throne and confronting Jesus withtheatrical solemnity, he said, "I adjure Thee by the living God thatThou tell us whether Thou be the Christ, the Son of God. " That is tosay, he put Him on oath to tell what He claimed to be; for among theJews the oath was pronounced by the judge, not by the prisoner. This was one of the great moments in the life of Christ. Apparently Herecognised the right of the high priest to put Him on oath; or at leastHe saw that silence now might be construed into the withdrawal of Hisclaims. He knew, indeed, that the question was put merely for thepurpose of incriminating Him, and that to answer it meant death toHimself. But He who had silenced those by whom the title of Messiahhad been thrust upon Him, when they wished to make Him a king, nowclaimed the title when it was the signal for condemnation. Decidedlyand solemnly He answered, "Yes, I am"; and, as if the crisis had causedwithin Him a great access of self-consciousness, He proceeded, "Hereafter shall ye see the Son of Man sitting on the right hand ofpower and coming in the clouds of heaven. " [6] For the moment theywere His judges, but one day He would be their Judge; it was only ofHis earthly life that they could dispose, but He would have to disposeof their eternal destiny. It has often been said that Christians have claimed for Christ what Henever claimed for Himself; that He never claimed to be any more than aman, but they have made Him a God. But this great statement, made uponoath, must impress every honest mind. Every effort has, indeed, beenmade to deplete its terms of their importance and to reduce them to thelowest possible value. It is argued, for example, that, when the highpriest asked if He were "the Son of God, " he meant no more than when heasked if He were "the Christ. " But what is to be said of Christ'sdescription of Himself as "sitting on the right hand of power andcoming in the clouds of heaven"? Can He who is to be the Judge of men, searching their hearts to the bottom, estimating the value of theirperformances, and, in accordance with these estimates, fixing theireternal station and degree, be a mere man? The greatest and the wisestof men are well aware that in the history of every brother man, andeven in the heart of a little child, there are secrets and mysterieswhich they cannot fathom. No mere man can accurately measure thecharacter of a fellow-creature; he cannot even estimate his own. How this great confession lifts the whole scene! We see no longerthese small men and their sordid proceedings; but the Son of manbearing witness to Himself in the audience of the universe. How littlewe care now what the Jewish judges will say about Him! This greatconfession reverberates down the ages, and the heart of the world, asit hears it from His lips, says, Amen. The high priest had achieved his end at last. As a high priest wasexpected to do when he heard blasphemy, he rent his clothes, and, turning to his colleagues, he said, "What need have we of witnesses?behold, now ye have heard His blasphemy. " And they all assented thatJesus was guilty, and that the sentence must be death. Sometimes good-hearted Bible-readers, in perusing these scenes, aretroubled with the thought that the judges of Jesus were conscientious. Was it not their duty, when anyone came forward with Messianicpretensions, to judge whether or not his claim was just? and did theynot honestly believe that Jesus was not what He professed to be? Nodoubt they did honestly believe so. We must ascend to a much earlierperiod to be able to judge their conduct accurately. It was when theclaims of Jesus were first submitted to them that they went astray. He, being such as He was, could only have been welcomed and appreciatedby expectant, receptive, holy minds. The ecclesiastical authorities ofJudaea in that age were anything but expectant, receptive and holy. They were totally incapable of understanding Him, and saw no beautythat they should desire Him. As He often told them Himself, being suchas they were, they could not believe. The fault lay not so much inwhat they did as in what they were. Being in the wrong path, they wentforward to the end. It may be said that they walked according to theirlight; but the light that was in them was darkness. Their proceedings, however, on this occasion will not tend to soften the heart of anyonewho looks into them carefully. They had hardly the least show ofjustice. There was no regular charge or regular evidence, and nothought whatever of allowing the Accused to bring counter-evidence; thesame persons were both accusers and judges; the sentence was a foregoneconclusion; and the entire proceedings consisted of a series of devicesto force the Accused into some statement which would supply acolourable pretext for condemning Him. [7] But it was by what ensued after the sentence of condemnation was passedthat these men cut themselves off forever from the sympathy of thetolerant and generous. A court of law ought to be a place of dignity;when a great issue is tried and a solemn judgment passed, it ought toimpress the judges themselves; even the condemned, when a deathsentence has been passed, ought to be hedged round with a certain aweand respect. But that blow inflicted with impunity at the commencementof the trial by a minion of the court was too clear an index of thestate of mind of all present. There was no solemnity or greatness ofany kind in their thoughts; nothing but resentment and spite at Him whohad thwarted and defied them, lessened them in the public estimationand stopped their unholy gains. A perfect sea of such feelings hadlong been gathering in their hearts; and now, when the opportunitycame, it broke loose upon Him. They struck Him with their sticks; theyspat in His face; they drew something over His head and, smiting Himagain, cried, "Christ, prophesy who smote Thee. " [8] One would wish tobelieve that it was only by the miserable underlings that such thingswere done; but the narrative makes it too clear that the masters ledthe way and the servants followed. There are terrible things in man. There are some depths in humannature into which it is scarcely safe to look. It was by the veryperfection of Christ that the uttermost evil of His enemies was broughtout. There is a passage in "Paradise Lost, " where a band of angels, sent out to scour Paradise in search of Satan, who is hidden in thegarden, discover him in the shape of a toad "squat at the ear of Eve. "Ithuriel, one of the band, touches him with his spear, whereat, surprised, he starts up in his own shape, -- "for no falsehood can endure Touch of celestial temper, but returns Of force to its own likeness. " But the touch of perfect goodness has often the opposite effect: ittransforms the angel into the toad, which is evil's own likeness. Christ was now getting into close grips with the enemy He had come tothis world to overcome; and, as it clutched Him for the final wrestle, it exhibited all its ugliness and discharged all its venom. [9] The clawof the dragon was in His flesh, and its foul breath in His mouth. Wecannot conceive what such insult and dishonour must have been to Hissensitive and regal mind. But He rallied His heart to endure and notto faint; for He had come to be the death of sin, and its death was tobe the salvation of the world. [1] Here would come in the curious little notice in St. Mark: "Andthere followed Him a certain young man, having a linen cloth cast abouthis naked body; and the young men laid hold on him; and he left thelinen cloth and fled from them naked"; on which I have not commented, not well knowing, in truth, what to make of it. It may be designed toshow the rudeness of the soldiery, and the peril in which any followerof Jesus would have been had he been caught. Some have supposed thatthe young man was St. Mark, and that this is the painter's signature inan obscure corner of his picture. (See Holzmann in _Handcommentar zumNeuen Testament_. ) In the first volume of the _Expositor_ there is apaper on the subject by Dr. Cox, but it does not throw much light on it. [2] On the Sanhedrim and the high priests see Schürer, _The JewishPeople in the Time of Christ_, div. Ii. , vol. I. [3] This, many think, is what is given in St. John. [4] Many think that this is what is given in St. Luke. [5] The full number was seventy-one, including the president. [6] See Psalm cx. 1, and Dan. Vii. 13. [7] Even Jost, the Jewish historian, calls it a murder; but he does notbelieve that there was an actual trial; and in this Edersheim agreeswith him. [8] In allusion to His claim to be the Messianic Prophet. The Romansoldiers, on the other hand, ridiculed His claim to be a King. [9] "The central figure is the holiest Person in history, but round Himstand or strive the most opposed and contrasted moral types. . . . Themen who touch Him in this supreme hour of His history do so only tohave their essential character disclosed. "--FAIRBAIRN. CHAPTER III. THE GREAT DENIAL To the ecclesiastical trial of our Lord there is a side-piece, overwhich we must linger before proceeding to the civil trial. At the veryhour when in the hall of the high priest's house Christ was utteringHis great confession, one of His disciples was, in the court of thesame building, pouring out denial after denial. I. When Jesus was bound in Gethsemane and led away back to Jerusalem, allHis disciples forsook Him and fled. They disappeared, I suppose, amongthe bushes and trees of the garden and escaped into the surroundingcountry or wherever they thought they would be safe. But two of the Twelve--St. Peter and St. John, who tells thestory--soon rallied from the first panic and followed, at adistance, [1] the band in whose midst their Master was. Keeping in theshadow of the trees by the roadside, keeping in the shadow of thehouses in the streets, they stole after the moving mass. At last, whenit got near its destination--the palace of the high priest---theyhurried forward; and St. John went in with the crowd; but somehow, probably through irresolution, St. Peter was left outside in thestreet; and the door was shut. To understand what follows, it is necessary to describe more in detailthe construction of such a house as the high priest's palace; for itwas very unlike most of our houses. A Western house looks into thestreet, but an Oriental into its own interior, having no opening to thefront except a great arched gateway, shut with a heavy door or gate. When this door is opened, it discloses a broad passage, penetrating thefront building and leading into a square, paved courtyard, open to thesky, round which the house is built, and into which its rooms, bothupstairs and downstairs, look. A similar arrangement is to be seen insome large warehouses in our own cities, or you may have seen it inlarge hotels on the Continent. It only requires to be added that onthe side of the passage, inside the outer gate, there is a room orlodge for the porter or portress, who opens and shuts the gate; and inthe gate there is a little wicket by which individuals can be let in orout. When the band conducting Jesus appeared in front of the palace, nodoubt the portress opened the large gate to admit them and then shut itagain. They passed under the archway into the court, which theycrossed, and then entered one of the apartments overlooking thecourtyard. But the police and other underlings employed in the arrest, their work being now done, stayed outside, and, as it was midnight andthe weather was cold, they lighted a fire there under the open sky and, gathering round it, began to warm themselves. As has been said, John went in through the gate with the crowd, butPeter was somehow shut out. John, who seems to have occupied a highersocial position than the rest of the Twelve, was known to the highpriest, and, therefore, probably was acquainted with the palace andknew the servants; and, when he noticed that Peter had been left out, he went to the portress and got her to let him in by the wicket-gate. It was a friendly act; and yet, as the event proved, it wasunintentionally an ill turn: John led Peter into temptation. The bestof friends may do this sometimes to one another; for the situation intowhich one man may enter without peril may be dangerous to another. Oneman may mingle freely in company which another cannot enter withoutterrible risks. There are amusements in which one Christian can takepart, though they would ruin another if he touched them. A mindmatured and disciplined may read books which would kindle the fire ofhell in a mind less experienced. There are always two things that goto the making of a temptation: there is the particular set ofcircumstances to be encountered on the one hand, and there is thepeculiar character or history of the person entering into the situationon the other. We need to remember this if we are to defend eitherourselves or others against temptation. II. John no doubt, as soon as he got Peter inside the door, hurried awayacross the court into the hall where Jesus was, to witness theproceedings. Not so Peter. He was not familiar with the place as John was; and hehad the shyness of a plain man at the sight of the inside of a greathouse. Besides, he was under fear of being recognized as a follower ofChrist and apprehended. Now also the unlucky blow he had made atMalchus at the gate of Gethsemane had to be paid for, because itgreatly increased his chance of detection. He remained, therefore, just inside the great door, watching from theshadows of the archway what was going on inside, and, without knowingit, himself being watched by the portress from her coigne of vantage. He was ill at ease; for he did not know what to do. He did not dare togo, like John, into the judgment-hall. Perhaps he half wished he couldget out into the street again. He was in a trap. At last he strolled forward to the group round the fire and, sittingdown among them, commenced to warm himself. It was a miscellaneousgroup there in the glare of the fire, and no notice was taken of him. He took his place as if he were one of them. It was, however, a dangerous situation in another sense than hesupposed. It was of bodily peril he was in terror; he did notanticipate danger to his soul; yet this was very near. It is alwaysdangerous when a follower of Christ is sitting among Christ's enemieswithout letting it be known what he is. "Blessed is the man thatwalketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way ofsinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful. " It is more thanprobable that when Peter sat down the air was ringing with jest andlaughter about Jesus; but he did not interrupt: he kept silence andtried to look as like one of the scorners as he could. But not toconfess Christ is the next step to denying Him. Temptation, as is its wont, came suddenly and from the most unexpectedquarter. As has been said, when he was skulking beneath the archway, his movements were noted by the portress. They were suspicious, andshe, with a woman's cleverness, divined his secret. Accordingly, whenshe was relieved at her post by another maid, she not only pointed himout to this companion and communicated to her what she thought abouthim, but, in passing to her room, she went up to the fire among thesoldiers and, looking him straight in the face, said, with a malicioustwinkle in her eye, This is one of the Nazarene's followers. Peter was taken completely by surprise. It was as if a mask had beentorn from his face. In a moment the instinct of terror seized him;perhaps, too, the instinct of shame at being thought a disciple of Himthey were mocking. Indeed, there was a further shame: how could heconfess himself the disciple of the Master whom he had heard blasphemedwithout protest? He had denied his Master in act before he denied Himin word; and the preceding act made the word also necessary. "I do notknow what you mean, " he said, with a surly frown; and away she trippedlaughing, having done her work quite successfully. None pursued the subject. But Peter was uneasy, and took the earliestopportunity of escaping from the fireside. He went away into thearchway, intending apparently, if he could, to get out of the placealtogether. But here the trap was closed; for the other maid, whoseattention had been directed to him, and who may have been laughing froma distance at her neighbour's sally, was standing at the door of herlodge, with two or three men; and, pointing him out to them as he cameforward, she said, "That is one of the Nazarene's followers. " Poor Peter! felled to the ground a second time by the touch of awoman's hand. But how often has the saucy tongue and jeering laugh ofa woman made a man ashamed of the highest and holiest! Peter flung ather an angry oath and, turning on his heel, went back again to the fire. He was now completely panic-stricken, and lost all self-control. Hewas boiling with conflicting emotions and could not keep quiet. Assuming an air of defiance and indifference, he plunged into theconversation, speaking loudly to throw off suspicion, but reallydefeating his own object; for he drew attention on himself, and theyscanned him the more narrowly the more excited he became. A relativeof Malchus, whose ear he had cut off, recognised him. His loud countryvoice and rough Galilean accent aroused the suspicions of others. Tobait such a pretender was a welcome diversion in the idle night, andsoon they were all in full cry after the quarry. Peter was thoroughly lost; like a bull in the arena attacked andstabbed on every side, he became blind with rage, terror and shame;and, pouring out denials, he added to them oaths and curses hurled athis adversaries. The latter element was, no doubt, the resurrection of an oldfisherman's habit, long since dead and buried. Peter was just the manlikely to be a profane swearer in his youth--the headlong man oftemper, who likes to say a thing with as much emphasis and exaggerationas possible. This is a sin whose power is generally broken instantlyat conversion. While there are sins which linger on for years andrequire to be crucified by inches, profane swearing often dies aninstantaneous death. But even in this case it is difficult to get quitof the evil past. In Peter this sin may have seemed to die at hisconversion; for years it had been dead and buried; yet, when thefavourable moment came, lo and behold, there it was again in vigorouslife. Old habits of sin are hard to kill. We seem to have killed andburied them; but do you not sometimes hear a knocking beneath theground? do you not feel the dead thing turning in its coffin, and seethe earth moving above its grave? This is the penalty of the daysgiven to the flesh. Till his dying day the man who has been a drunkardor a fornicator, a liar or a swearer, will have to keep watch and wardover the graveyard in which he has buried the past. Yet there was a kind of method in the madness of Peter's profanity. When he wanted to prove that he was none of Christ's, he could not dobetter than take to cursing. They did not credit his assertions thathe had no connection with his Master, but they could not help believinghis sins. Nobody belonging to Jesus, they knew, would speak as Peterwas doing. It is one of the strongest testimonies to Jesus still, thateven those who do not believe in Him expect cleanness of speech and ofconduct from His followers, and are astonished if those who bear Hisname do things which when done by others are matters of course. IV. While Peter was in the midst of this outbreak of denial and profanity, suddenly he saw the eyes of his tormentors turned away from him toanother object. [2] It was Jesus, whom His enemies had condemned in theneighbouring judgment-hall, and whom they were now leading, amidstblows and reproaches, across the courtyard to the guard-room, where Hewas to be kept for two or three hours till a subsequent stage of Histrial came on. As Jesus stepped down out of the hall into thecourtyard, His ear had caught the accents of His disciple, and, stungwith unutterable anguish, He turned quickly round in the directionwhence the sounds proceeded. At the same moment Peter turned, and theylooked one another full in the face. Jesus did not speak; for a singlesyllable, even of surprise, would have betrayed His disciple. Norcould He linger; for the soldiers were hurrying Him on. But for asingle instant their eyes met, and soul looked into soul. Who shallsay what was in that look of Christ?[3] There may be a world in alook. It may be more eloquent than a whole volume of words. It mayreveal far more than the lips can ever utter. One soul may give itselfaway to another in a look. A look may beatify or plunge in the depthsof despair. The look of Jesus was a talisman dissolving the spell in which Peterwas held. Sin is always a kind of temporary madness; and it wasmanifestly so in this case. Peter was so bewildered with terror, angerand excitement that he did not know what he was doing. But the look ofJesus brought him to himself, and immediately he acted like a man. Hemade at once for the exit with impetuous speed. [4] And now nothingstood in his way: he got past the maid and her companions withouttrouble. For, indeed, the trap of temptation is only an illusion. Toa resolute man it presents no obstacles. But further, the look of Christ was a mirror in which Peter sawhimself. He saw what Christ thought of him. The past came rushingback. He was the man who, in a great and never-to-be-forgotten moment, had confessed Christ and earned His hearty recognition. He was the manwho, a few hours ago, had vowed, above all the rest, that he neverwould deny his Master. And now he had deserted Him and wounded Him tothe heart in His utmost need. He had placed himself among His enemiesas one of themselves and, with oaths and curses, trodden His sacredname beneath his feet. He had put off the disciple and reverted to therudeness of his godless youth. He was a perjured traitor. All thiswas in that look of Christ. But there was far more in it. It was a rescuing look. If any friendhad met Peter rushing out from the scene of his sin, he might well havebeen terrified for what might happen. Where was he rushing to? Was itto the precipice over which Judas plunged not many hours afterwards?Peter was not very far from that. Had it been an angry look he saw onChrist's face when their eyes met, this might have been his fate. Butthere was not a spark of anger in it. There was pain, no doubt, andthere was immeasurable disappointment. But deeper than these--risingup from below them and submerging them--there was the Saviour'sinstinct, that instinct which made Him reach out His hand and graspPeter when he was sinking in the sea. With this same instinct Hegrasped Him now. In that look of an instant Peter saw forgiveness and unutterable love. If he saw himself in it, he saw still more his Saviour--such arevelation of the heart of Christ as he had never yet known. He sawnow what kind of Master he had denied; and it broke his heart. It isthis that always breaks the heart. It is not our sin that makes usweep; it is when we see what kind of Saviour we have sinned against. He wept bitterly; not to wash out his sin, but because even already heknew it had been washed out. The former weeping is a pelting shower;this is the close, prolonged downpour, which penetrates deep andfertilises the plants of the soul at their very roots. Indeed, this was the real beginning of all the good St. Peter was to doin the world. But we will not speak of this now. Let our last thoughtbe of Him who, in the crisis and extremity of His own suffering, whenHe heard His name not only denied but mingled with oaths and curses, yielded not one moment to the resentment which such an act of treacherymight have occasioned, but, forgetting His own sorrows and overmasteredwith the instincts of the Saviour, threw into a look such a world ofkindness and of love that, in an instant, it lifted the fallingdisciple from the gulf and set him on the rock where he ever afterwardsstood, himself a rock in the constancy of his faith and the vigor ofhis testimony. [1] _makrothen _. [2] It is to St. Luke we owe the account here given of Peter'sawakening; but he also refers to the crowing of the cock, the onlycause mentioned by the other Evangelists. There is no difficulty inunderstanding that such a psychological crisis may have been due to twolines of suggestion. [3] Mrs. Browning's sonnets on this subject must be quoted in full: "Two sayings of the Holy Scriptures beat Like pulses in the Church's brow and breast; And by them we find rest in our unrest, And, heart-deep in salt tears, do yet entreat God's fellowship, as if on heavenly seat. The first is JESUS WEPT; whereon is prest Full many a sobbing face, that drops its best And sweetest waters on the record sweet. And one is where the Christ, denied and scorned, LOOKED UPON PETER. Oh to render plain, By help of having loved a little and mourned, That look of sovran love and sovran pain, Which He, who could not sin yet suffered, turned On him who could reject but not sustain. "The Saviour looked on Peter. Ay, no word, No gesture of reproach; the heavens serene, Though heavy with armed justice, did not lean Their thunders that way; the forsaken Lord _Looked_ only on the traitor. None record What that look was; none guess; for those who have seen Wronged lovers loving through a death-pang keen, Or pale-cheeked martyrs smiling to a sword, Have missed Jehovah at the judgment call. And Peter from the height of blasphemy-- 'I never knew this man'--did quail and fall, As knowing straight THAT GOD; and turnèd free, And went out speechless from the face of all, And filled the silence, weeping bitterly. I think: that look of Christ might seem to say: 'Thou, Peter! art thou a common stone Which I at last must break My heart upon, For all God's charge to His high angels may Guard My feet better? Did I yesterday Wash _thy_ feet, My beloved, that they should run Quick to destroy me 'neath the morning sun? And do thy kisses, like the rest, betray? The cock crows coldly. Go, and manifest A late contrition, but no bootless fear! For, when thy final need is dreariest, Thou shall not be denied, as I am here; My voice to God and angels shall attest, _Because I KNOW this man, let him be clear_. '" [4] This may be the meaning of _epibalon_; but it is much disputed. Other interpretations are: (1) = _epeballe klaiein_, he began to weep;(2) with head covered--in mourning. CHAPTER IV. THE CIVIL TRIAL In the chapter before last we saw the Sanhedrim pass a death sentenceon Jesus. Gladly would they have carried it out in the Jewishfashion--by stoning. But, as was then explained, it was not in theirpower: their Roman masters, while conceding to the native courts thepower of trying and punishing minor offences, reserved to themselvesthe prerogative of life and death; and a case in which a capitalsentence had been passed in a Jewish court had to go before therepresentative of Rome in the country, who tried it over again, andmight either confirm or reverse the sentence. Accordingly, afterpassing sentence on Jesus themselves, the Sanhedrists had to lead Himaway to the tribunal of the governor. I. The representative of Imperial Rome in Palestine at this time wasPontius Pilate. The position which he held may perhaps be bestrealised by thinking of one of our own subordinate governors in India;with the difference, however, that it was a heathen, not a Christianpower, that Pilate represented, and that it was the spirit of ancientRome, not that of modern England, which inspired his administration. Of this spirit--the spirit of worldliness, diplomacy and expediency--hewas a typical exponent; and we shall see how true to it he proved onthis momentous day. [1] Pilate had occupied his position for a good many years; yet he neitherliked his subjects nor they him. The Jews were among the mostintractable and difficult of all the states which the officials of Romehad to manage. Mindful of the glory of their ancient history, andstill cherishing the hope of universal empire, they were impatient ofthe yoke of subordination; they were constantly discovering in theconduct of their rulers insults directed against their dignity or theirreligion; they complained of the heavy taxation and pestered theirrulers with petitions. Pilate had not got on at all well with them. Between him and them there was no sympathy. He hated their fanaticism. In his quarrels with them, which were frequent, he had freely shedtheir blood. They accused him of corruption, cruelty, robbery, andmaladministration of every description. The residence of the governor was not in Jerusalem, in which no oneaccustomed to the pleasures of Rome--its theatres, baths, games, literature and society--could desire to live, but in the new coast cityof Caesarea, which in its splendour and luxury was a sort of smallimitation of Rome. Occasionally, however, the governor had to visitthe capital for business reasons; and usually as on this occasion, hedid so at the time of the Passover. When there, he took up his residence in what had formerly been theroyal palace while Judaea still had a king. It had been built by Herodthe Great, who had a passion for architecture; and it was situated onthe hill to the south-west of the one on which the temple stood. Itwas a splendid building, [2] rivalling the temple itself in appearance, and so large as to be capable of containing a small army. It consistedof two colossal wings, springing forward on either side, and aconnecting building between. In front of the latter stretched a broadpavement; and here, in the open air, on a raised platform, was thescene of the trial; because the Jewish authorities would not enter thebuilding, which to them was unclean. Pilate had to yield to theirscruples, though probably cursing them in his heart. But, indeed, itwas quite common for the Romans to hold courts of justice in the openair. The front of the palace, all round, was supported by massivepillars, forming broad, shady colonnades; and round the building thereextended a park, with walks, trees and ponds, where fountains casttheir sparkling jets high into the sunshine and flocks of tame dovesplumed their feathers at the water's edge. Through the huge gateway, then, of this palatial residence, the Jewishauthorities, with their Prisoner in their midst, came pouring in theearly morning. Pilate came out to receive them and seated himself onhis chair of state, with his secretaries beside him, and behind him, nodoubt, numbers of bronzed Roman soldiers with their stolid looks andupright spears. The Accused would have to ascend the platform, too;and over against Him stood His accusers, with Caiaphas at their head. What a spectacle was that! The heads of the Jewish nation leadingtheir own Messiah in chains to deliver Him up to a Gentile governor, with the petition that He should be put to death! Shades of the heroesand the prophets, who loved this nation and boasted of it and foretoldits glorious fate, the hour of destiny has come, and this is the result! It was an act of national suicide. But was it not more? Was it notthe frustration of the purpose and the promise of God? So it certainlyappeared to be. Yet He is not mocked. Even through human sin Hispurpose holds on its way. The Jews brought the Son of God to Pilate'sjudgment-seat, that both Jew and Gentile might unite in condemning Him;for it was part of the work of the Redeemer to expose human sin, andhere was to be exhibited the _ne plus ultra_ of wickedness, as the handof humanity was lifted up against its Maker. And yet that death was tobe the life of humanity; and Jesus, standing between Jew and Gentile, was to unite them in the fellowship of a common salvation. "Oh thedepth both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable areHis judgments, and His ways past finding out!" II. Pilate at once demanded what was the accusation which they broughtagainst the Prisoner. The reply was a characteristic one, "If He were not a malefactor, wewould not have delivered Him up unto thee. " This was as broad a hintas they could give that they desired the governor to waive his right tore-try the case, accepting their trial of it as sufficient, and contenthimself with the other half of his prerogative--the passing and theexecution of the sentence. Sometimes provincial governors did so, either through indolence or out of compliment to the nativeauthorities; and especially in a religious cause, which a foreignercould not be expected to understand, such a compliment might seem aboon which it was not unreasonable to ask. But Pilate was not in a yielding mood, and retorted, "Take ye Him andjudge Him according to your law. " This was as much as to say: If I amnot to hear the case, then I will neither pass the sentence nor inflictthe punishment; if you insist on this being a case for yourselves asecclesiastics, then keep it to yourselves; but, if you do, you must becontent with such a punishment as the law permits you to inflict. To them this was gall and wormwood, because it was for the life ofChrist they were thirsting, and they well knew that imprisonment orbeating with rods was as far as they could go. The cold, keen Roman, as proud as themselves, was making them feel the pressure of Rome'sfoot on their neck, and he enjoyed a malicious pleasure in extortingfrom them the complaint, "It is not lawful for us to put any man todeath. " Forced against their will and their expectation to formulate a charge, they began to pour forth many vehement accusations; out of which atlength three emerged with some distinctness--first, that He wasperverting the nation; second, that He forbade to pay the imperialtribute; and third, that He set Himself up as a king. It will be observed that they never mentioned the charge on which theyhad condemned Him themselves. It was for none of these three thingsthat they had condemned Him, but for blasphemy. They knew too well, however, that if they advanced such a charge in this place, thelikelihood was that it would be sneered out of court. It will beremembered how a Roman governor, mentioned in the life of St. Paul, dealt with such a charge: "Gallio said unto the Jews, If it were amatter of wrong or wicked lewdness, O ye Jews, reason would that Ishould bear with you; but, if it be a question of words and names, andof your law, look ye to it; for I will be no judge of such matters. And he drave them from the judgment-seat. " [3] And, although of coursePilate could not have dared to exhibit the same cynical disdain forwhat he would have called Jewish superstition, yet they knew that itwas in his heart. But their inability to bring forward the real charge put them in afalse position, the dangers of which they did not escape. They had toextemporise crimes, and they were not scrupulous about it. Their first charge--that Jesus was perverting the nation[4]--was vague. But what are we to say of the second--that He forbade to pay theimperial tribute? When we remember His reply that very week to thequestion whether or not it was lawful to pay tribute--"Render untoCaesar the things which are Caesar's, and unto God the things which areGod's"--it looks very like a deliberate falsehood. [5] There was morecolour in their third statement--that He said He was Christ a King--forHe had at their tribunal solemnly avowed Himself to be the Christ. Yet, in this case, also, they were well aware that to the ear of aRoman the claim that He was a king would convey a different meaningfrom that conveyed to their ears by the claim to be the Christ. Indeed, at bottom their objection to Him was just that He did notsufficiently claim to be a king in the Roman sense. They were eagerlylooking for a king, of splendour and military renown, to break theRoman yoke and make Jerusalem the capital of a worldwide empire; and itwas because the spirit and aims of Jesus were alien to such ambitionsthat they despised and hated Him. Pilate understood perfectly well with whom he was dealing. He couldonly be amused with their zeal for the payment of the Roman tribute. One of the Evangelists says, "He knew that for envy they had deliveredHim. " How far he was already acquainted with the career of Jesus wecannot tell. He had been governor all the time of the movementinaugurated by the Baptist and continued by Christ, and he can hardlyhave remained in entire ignorance of it. The dream of his wife, whichwe shall come to soon, seems to prove that Jesus had already been atheme of conversation in the palace; and perhaps the tedium of a visitto Jerusalem may have been relieved for the governor and his wife bythe story of the young Enthusiast who was bearding the fanatic priests. Pilate displays, all through, a real interest in Jesus and a genuinerespect. This was no doubt chiefly due to what he himself saw of Hisbearing at his tribunal; but it may also have been partly due to whathe had already heard about Him. At all events there is no indicationthat he took the charges against Jesus seriously. The two first heseems never to have noticed; but the third--that He was setting Himselfup as a king, who might be a rival to the emperor--was not such as hecould altogether pass by. III. Pilate, having heard the accusations, took Jesus inside the palace toinvestigate them. This he did, no doubt, for the purpose of gettingrid of the importunity of His accusers, which was extreme. And Jesusmade no scruple, as they had done, about entering the palace. Shall wesay that the Jews had rejected Him, and He was turning to theGentiles--that the wall of partition had now fallen, and that He wastrampling over its ruins? In the silence, then, of this interior hall He and Pilate stood face toface--He in the prisoner's lonely place, Pilate in the place of power. Yet how strangely, as we now look back at the scene, are the placesreversed! It is Pilate who is going to be tried--Pilate and Rome, which he represented. All that morning Pilate was being judged andexposed; and ever since he has stood in the pillory of history with thecenturies gazing at him. [6] In the old pictures of the Child Christ bythe great masters a halo proceeds from the Babe that lights up thesurrounding figures, sometimes with dazzling effect. And it is truethat on all who approached Christ, when He was in the world, there fella light in which both the good and the evil in them were revealed. Itwas a search-light, that penetrated into every corner and exposed everywrinkle. Men were judged as they came near Him. Is it not so still?We never show so entirely what is in us as by the way in which we areaffected by Christ. We are judging ourselves and passing sentence onourselves for eternity by the way in which we deal with Him. Pilate asked Him, "Art Thou the King of the Jews?" referring to thethird charge brought against Him. The reply of Jesus was cautious; itwas another question: "Sayest thou this of thyself, or did others tellit thee of Me?" He desired to learn in what sense the question wasasked--whether from the standpoint of a Roman or from that of the Jews;because of course His answer would be different according as He wasasked whether He was a king as a Roman would understand the word oraccording as it was understood by the Jews. But this answer nettled Pilate, perhaps because it assumed that hemight have more interest in the case than he cared to confess; and hesaid angrily, "Am I a Jew? Thine own nation and the chief priests havedelivered Thee unto me. " If he intended this to sting, the blow didnot fail of its mark. Ah, tingling shame and poignant pain! His ownnation--His own beloved nation, to which He had devoted His life--hadgiven Him up to the Gentile. He felt a shame for it before theforeigner such as a slave on the block may feel before her purchaserfor the father and the family that have sold her into disgrace. Jesus at once proceeded, however, to answer Pilate's question on bothsides, both on the Roman political and then on the Jewish religiousside. First, He answered negatively, "My kingdom is not of this world!" Hewas no rival of the Roman emperor. If He had been, the first thing Hemust have done would have been to assemble soldiers about Him for thepurpose of freeing the country from the Roman occupation, and the veryfirst duty of these soldiers would have been to defend the person oftheir king; but it could be proved that at His arrest there had been nofighting on His behalf, and that He had ordered the one follower whohad drawn a sword to sheathe it again. It was not a kingdom of forceand arms and worldly glory He had in view. Yet, even in making this denial, Jesus had used the words, "Mykingdom. " And Pilate broke in, "Art Thou a king then?" "Yes, " repliedJesus; "to this end was I born, and for this cause came I into theworld, that I should bear witness unto the truth. " This was Hiskingdom--the realm of Truth. It differs widely from that of Caesar. Caesar's empire is over the bodies of men; this is over their hearts. The strength of Caesar's empire is in soldiers, arms, citadels andnavies; the strength of this kingdom is in principles, sentiments, ideas. The benefit secured by Caesar to the citizens is externalsecurity for their persons and properties; the blessings of Christ'skingdom are peace of conscience and joy in the Holy Ghost. The empireof Caesar, vast as it was, yet was circumscribed; the kingdom of Christis without limits, and is destined to be established in every land. Caesar's empire, like every other earthly kingdom, had its day andpassed out of existence; but the kingdom of Truth shall last forevermore. It has been remarked that there was something Western rather thanOriental in this sublime saying of Christ. What a noble-minded Jewlonged for above all things was righteousness; but what a noble-mindedGentile aspired after was truth. There were some spirits, in that age, even among the heathen, in whom the mention of a kingdom of truth orwisdom would have struck a responsive chord. Jesus was feeling to seewhether there was in this man's soul any such longing. He approached still nearer him when He added the searching remark, "Every one that is of the truth heareth My voice;" for it was a hintthat, if he loved the truth, he must believe in Him. Jesus preached toHis judge. Just as the prisoner Paul made Felix the judge tremble, andAgrippa the judge cry out, "Almost thou persuadest me to be aChristian, " so Jesus, with the instinct of the preacher and theSaviour, was feeling for Pilate's conscience. He who fishes for thesouls of men must use many angles; and on this occasion Jesus selecteda rare one. There will always be some who, though common appeals do not touch them, yet respond to this delicate appeal. Is truth a magic word to you? doyou thirst for wisdom? There are those to whom the prizes which themajority strive for are as dross. The race for wealth, the pride oflife, the distinctions of society--you laugh at them and pity them. But a golden page of a favourite poet, a thought newly minted in theglowing heat of a true thinker's mind, a pregnant word that sets yourfancy ranging through eternity, a luminous doctrine that rises on theintellectual horizon like a star, --these are your wealth. You feelkeenly the darkness of the world, and are perplexed by a hundredproblems. Child and lover of wisdom, do you know the King of Truth?This is He who can satisfy your craving for light and lead you out ofthe maze of speculation and error. But is it true, as He says here, that everyone who is of the truthheareth His voice? Is not the world at present full of men and womenwho are in search of truth, yet pass Christ by? It is a very strongword He uses; it is, "every one who has been born of the truth. " Haveyou actually clambered on Truth's knees, and clung to her neck, and fedat her breast? There are many who seek truth earnestly with theintellect, but do not desire it to rule their conduct or purify theirheart. But only those who seek truth with their whole being are hertrue children; and to these the voice of Christ, when it is discerned, is like the sunrise to the statue of Memnon or as the call of spring tothe responsive earth. Alas! Pilate was no such man. He was incapable of spiritualaspiration; he was of the earth earthy; he sought for nothing which theeye cannot see or the hand handle. To him a kingdom of truth and aking of truth were objects of fairyland or castles in the air. "Whatis truth?" he asked; but, as he asked, he turned on his heel, and didnot wait for an answer. He asked only as a libertine might ask, Whatis virtue? or a tyrant, What is freedom? But he was clearly convinced that Jesus was innocent. He judged Him tobe an amiable enthusiast, from whom Rome had nothing to fear. So hewent out and pronounced His acquittal: "I find in Him no fault at all. " [1] On Pilate there is an essay of extraordinary subtlety and power inCandlish's _Scripture Characters_. [2] An eloquent account in Keim (vi. , p. 80, English tr. ), who givesthe authorities: "in part a tyrant's stronghold, and in part a fairypleasure-house. " [3] Acts xviii. 14-16. [4] _ethnos_, not _laos_: they were speaking to a heathen. [5] Keim calls it "a very flagrant lie. " [6] "Socrates, quum omnium sapientissime sanctissimeque vixisset, itain judicio capitis pro se dixit, ut non supplex aut reus, sed magisteraut dominus videretur judicum. "--CICERO. CHAPTER V. JESUS AND HEROD Pilate had tried Jesus and found Him innocent; and so he frankly toldthe members of the Sanhedrim, thereby reversing their sentence. Whatought to have followed? Of course Jesus ought to have been releasedand, if necessary, protected from the feeling of the Jews. Why was this not what happened? An incident in the life of Pilate, narrated by a secular historian, may best explain. Some years beforethe trial of Jesus, Pilate, newly settled in the position of governorof Judaea, resolved to remove the headquarters of the Roman army fromCaesarea to Jerusalem; and the soldiers entered the Holy City withtheir standards, each of which bore the image of the emperor. To theJewish mind these images were idolatrous, and their presence inJerusalem was looked upon as a gross insult and desecration. Theforemost men of the city poured down to Caesarea, where Pilate wasstaying, and besought him to remove them. He refused, and for fivedays the discussion went on. At length he was so irritated that heordered them to be surrounded by soldiers, and threatened to have themput to death unless they became silent and dispersed. They, however, in no way dismayed, threw themselves on the ground and laid bare theirnecks, crying that they would rather die than have their city defiled. And the upshot was that Pilate had to yield, and the army was withdrawnfrom Jerusalem. [1] Such was the governor, and such were the people with whom he had todeal. He was no match for them, when their hearts were set on anythingand their religious prejudices roused. In the present case they didwith him exactly as they had done on that early occasion. He declaredJesus innocent, and thereupon the trial ought to have been at an end. But they raised an angry clamour--"they were the more fierce, " says St. Luke--and began to pour out new accusations against the Prisoner. Pilate had not nerve enough to resist. He weakly turned to JesusHimself, asking, "Hearest Thou not what these witness against Thee?"But Jesus "answered to him never a word. " He would not, by a singlesyllable, give sanction to any prolongation of the proceedings:"insomuch that the governor marvelled greatly. " Flustered andirresolute himself, he could not comprehend this majestic composure. The stake of Jesus in the proceedings was nothing less than His life;yet He was the only calm person in the whole assemblage. Suddenly, however, amidst the confusion a way of escape from hisembarrassing situation seemed to open to Pilate. They were crying, "Hestirreth up the people, teaching throughout all Jewry, beginning fromGalilee to this place. " The mention of Galilee was intended to exciteprejudice against Jesus, because Galilee was noted as a hotbed ofinsurrection. But it set agoing a different train of thought in themind of Pilate, who asked anxiously if He was a Galilean. It hadflashed upon him that Herod, the ruler of Galilee, was in the city atthe time, having come for the Passover celebration; and, as it was notan unusual procedure in Roman law to transfer a prisoner from theterritory where he had been arrested to his place of origin or ofdomicile, it seemed to him a happy inspiration to send Jesus to betried by the ruler of the province to which He belonged, and so get ridaltogether of the case. [2] He acted at once on this idea; and, underthe escort of Pilate's soldiers, Jesus and His accusers were sent awayto the ancient palace of the Maccabees, in which Herod used to resideon his visits to the Holy City. Thus was Jesus, on this day of shame, tossed, like a ball, from hand tohand--from Annas to Caiaphas, from Caiaphas to Pilate, from Pilate toHerod, with more to follow; and these weary marches[3] in chains and inthe custody of the officers of justice, with His persecutors about Him, are not to be forgotten in the catalogue of His sufferings. I. There are several Herods mentioned in the New Testament, and it must bemade clear which of them this was. The first of them was he who slew the babes of Bethlehem, when theinfant Saviour was carried away to Egypt. He was called Herod theGreat, and reigned over the whole country, though only by permission ofthe Romans. At his death his dominions were divided among his sons bythe foreigner, who thus more effectually brought the country undercontrol; for the smaller the size of subject states the more absoluteis the power of the suzerain. Judaea was given to Archelaus; but itwas soon taken from him, to be administered by the Romans themselvesthrough their procurators, of whom Pilate was one. Galilee and Peraeawere given to another son, Antipas; and a region more to the north to athird, Philip. Our present Herod is Antipas. He was a man of some ability and at the outset of his career gavepromise of ruling well. Like his father, he had a passion forarchitecture, and among his achievements in this line was the buildingof the city of Tiberias, well known in connection with modern missions. But he took a step which proved fatal when he entered into an intriguewith Herodias, the wife of his own brother Philip. She left herhusband to come to him, and he sent away his own wife, the daughter ofAretas, the king of Arabia Petraea. Herodias was a much strongercharacter than he; and she remained at his side through life as hisevil genius. Better aspirations were not, however, wholly extinguishedin him even by this fall. When the Baptist began to fire the country, he took an interest in his preaching, and invited him to the palace, where he heard him gladly, till John said, "It is not lawful for theeto have her. " For this the great preacher was cast into prison; buteven then Herod frequently sent for him. Manifestly he was underreligious impression. He admired the character and the teaching ofJohn. It is said "he did many things. " Only he could not and wouldnot do the one thing needful: Herodias still retained her place. Naturally she feared and hated the man of God, who was seeking toremove her; and she plotted against him with implacable malignity. Shewas only too successful, making use of her own daughter--not Antipas', but her first husband's--for her purpose. On the king's birthdaySalome danced before Herod and so intoxicated him with her skill andbeauty, that, heated and overcome, he promised--the promise showing theman--to give her whatever she might ask, even to the half of hiskingdom; and when the young witch, well drilled by her mother in thecraft of hell, asked the head of the man of God, she was not refused. This awful crime filled his subjects with horror, and when, soonafterwards, King Aretas, the father of his discarded wife, invaded thecountry, to revenge his daughter's wrong, and inflicted on him anignominious defeat, this reverse was popularly regarded as a divinepunishment for what he had done. His own mind was haunted by thespectres of remorse, as we learn from the fact that, when he heard ofthe preaching of Jesus, his first thought was that this was John theBaptist risen from the dead. Indeed, from this point he seems to haverapidly deteriorated. Feeling the aversion of the minds of hissubjects, he turned more and more to foreign customs. His court becamedistinguished for Roman imitations and affectations. The purveyors ofpleasure, who in that age hawked their wares from one petty court toanother--singers, dancers, jugglers and the like--were welcome atTiberias. The fibre of his character was more and more relaxed, tillit became a mere mass of pulp, ready to receive every impression butable to retain none. His annual visits to Jerusalem even, at Passovertime, were inspired less by devotion than by the hope of amusement. Inso large a concourse there would at any rate be acquaintances to seeand news to hear; and who could tell what excitement might turn up? II. His reception of Jesus was thoroughly characteristic. Had he had theconscience even of a bad man, he might have been abashed to see theBaptist's Friend. Once he had been moved with terror at the mererumour of Jesus; but that was all past; these emotions had been wipedout by newer ones and forgotten. He was "exceeding glad" to see Him. First, it was an excitement; and this was something for such a man. Then, it was a compliment from the Roman; indeed, we are told thatPilate and he had aforetime been at enmity, but by this attention weremade friends again. His delight, however, arose chiefly from the hopethat he might see Jesus working a miracle. For two or three years hisown dominions had been ringing with the fame of the Miracle-worker, butHerod had never seen Him. Now was his chance; and no doubt entered hismind that Jesus would gratify his curiosity, or could count it anythingbut an honour to get the opportunity of displaying His skill. Such was Herod's estimate of Christ. He put Him on the level of a newdancer or singer; he looked on His miracles as a species of conjuringor magic; and he expected from Him the same entertainment as he mighthave obtained from any wandering professor of magical arts. At once he addressed Him in the friendliest manner and questioned Himin many words. Apparently he quite forgot the purpose for which Pilatehad sent Him. He did not even wait for any replies, but went ramblingon. He had thought much about religion, and he wished Jesus to knowit. He had theories to ventilate, puzzles to propound, remarks tomake. A man who has no religion may yet have a great deal to say aboutreligion; and there are people who like far better to hear themselvestalking than to listen to any speaker, however wise. No mouth is morevoluble than that of a characterless man of feeling. III. Herod at last exhausted himself, and then he waited for Christ tospeak. But Jesus uttered not a word. The silence lasted till thepause grew awkward and painful, and till Herod grew red and angry; butJesus would not break it with a single syllable. For one thing, the entire proceedings were irrelevant. Jesus had beensent to Herod to be tried; but this had never been touched upon. HadJesus, indeed, desired to deliver Himself at all hazards, this was arare opportunity; because, if He had yielded to Herod's wishes andwrought a miracle for his gratification, no doubt He would have beenacquitted and sent back loaded with gifts. But we cannot believe thatsuch an expedient was even a temptation to Him. Never had He wrought amiracle for His own behoof, and it is inconceivable that He should havestooped to offer any justification of the estimate of Himself whichthis man had formed. Jesus was Herod's subject; but it was impossiblefor Him to look upon him with respect. How could He help feelingdisdain for one who thought of Himself so basely and treated this greatcrisis so frivolously? To one who knew Herod's history, how loathsomemust it have been to hear religious talk from his lips! There was nomanliness or earnestness in the man. Religion was a mere diversion tohim. To such Christ will always be silent. Herod is the representative ofthose for whom there is no seriousness in life, but who live only forpleasure. There are many such. Not only has religion, in any high andserious sense, no attraction for them, but they dislike everything likedeep thought or earnest work in any sphere. As soon as they arereleased from the claims of business, they rush off to be excited andamused; and the one thing they dread is solitude, in which they mighthave to face themselves. In certain classes of society, where work isnot necessary to obtain a livelihood, this spirit is the predominantone: life is all a scene of gaiety; one amusement follows another; andthe utmost care is taken to avoid any intervals where reflection mightcome in. Religion itself may be dragged into this circle of dissipation. It ispossible to go to church with substantially the same object with whichone goes to a place of amusement--in the hope of being excited, ofhaving the feelings stirred and the aesthetic sense gratified or, atthe least, consuming an hour which might otherwise lie heavy on thehands. With shame be it said, there are churches enough and preachersenough ready to meet this state of mind half-way. With the fireworksof rhetoric or the witchery of music or the pomp of ritual theperformance is seasoned up to the due pitch; and the audience departwith precisely the same kind of feeling with which they might leave aconcert or a theatre. Very likely it is accounted a great success; butChrist has not spoken: He is resolutely mute to those who followreligion in this spirit. Sometimes the same spirit takes another direction; it becomesspeculative and sceptical and, like Herod, "questions in many words. "When I have heard some people propounding religious difficulties, theanswer which has risen to my lips has been, Why should you be able tobelieve in Christ? what have you ever done to render yourselves worthyof such a privilege? you are thinking of faith as a compliment to bepaid to Christ; in reality the power to believe in Him and His words isa great privilege and honour, that requires to be purchased withthought, humility and self-denial. We do not owe an answer to the religious objections of everyone. Religion is, indeed, a subject on which everyone takes the liberty ofspeaking; the most unholy and evil-living talk and write of it nothingdoubting; but in reality it is a subject on which very few are entitledto be heard. We may know beforehand, from their lives, what theopinions of many must be about it; and we know what their opinions areworth. It may be thought that Jesus ought to have spoken to Herod--that Hemissed an opportunity. Ought He not to have appealed to his conscienceand attempted to rouse him to a sense of his sin? To this I answerthat His silence was itself this appeal. Had there been a spark ofconscience left in Herod, those Eyes looking him through and through, and that divine dignity measuring and weighing him, would have causedhis sins to rise up out of the grave and overwhelm him. Jesus wassilent, that the voice of the dead Baptist might be heard. If we understood it, the silence of Christ is the most eloquent of allappeals. Can you remember when you used to hear Him--when the words ofthe Book and the preacher used to move you in church, when the singingawoke aspiration, when the Sabbath was holy ground, when the Spirit ofGod strove with you? And is that all passed of passing away? DoesChrist speak no more? If a man is lying ill, and perceives day by dayeverything about him becoming silent--his wife avoiding speech, visitors sinking their voices to a whisper, footsteps falling and doorsshutting noiselessly--he knows that his illness is becoming critical. When the traveller, battling with the snow-storm, sinks down at last torest, he feels cold and painful and miserable; but, if there stealsover him a soft, sweet sense of slumber and silence, then is the momentto rouse himself and fight off his peace, if he is ever to stir again. There is such a spiritual insensibility. It means that the Spirit isceasing to strive, and Christ to call. If it is creeping over you, itis time to be anxious; for it is for your life. IV. How far Herod understood the silence of Jesus we cannot tell. It istoo likely that he did not wish to understand. At all events he actedas if he did not; he treated it as if it were stupidity. He thoughtthat the reason why Jesus would not work a miracle was because He couldnot: a pretender's powers generally forsake him when he falls into thehands of the police. Jesus, he thought, was discredited; His Messianicclaims were exploded; even His followers must now be disillusioned. So he thought and so he said; and the satellites round his thronechimed in; for there is no place where a great man's word is echoedwith more parrot-like precision than in a petty court. And no doubtthey considered it a great stroke of wit, well worthy of applause, whenHerod, before sending Him back to Pilate, cast over His shoulders agorgeous robe--probably in imitation of the white robe worn at Rome bycandidates for office. The suggestion was that Jesus was a candidatefor the throne of the country, but one so ridiculous that it would be amistake to treat Him with anything but contempt. Thus amidst peals oflaughter was Jesus driven from the presence. [1] Josephus, "Ant. , " XVIII. , 3, 1. [2] It may be questioned whether it was for trial he sent Jesus toHerod or only for advice, as Festus caused St. Paul's case to be heardby Agrippa. [3] Called "die Gänge des Dulders, " in German devotional literature. CHAPTER VI. BACK TO PILATE The sending of Jesus to Herod had not, as Pilate had hoped, finishedthe case, and so the Prisoner was brought back to the imperial palace. Herod had affected to treat Jesus with disdain; but in reality, as weare now aware, he had himself been tried and exposed. And Jesusreturned to do the same thing for Pilate--to make manifest what mannerof spirit he was of; though Pilate had no conception that this wasgoing to happen: he was only annoyed that a case of which he thought hehad got rid was thrown on his hands again. He had reluctantly toresume it, and he carried it through to the end; but, before this pointwas reached, his character was revealed, down to its very foundations, in the light of Christ. Herod's spirit was that of frivolous worldliness--the worldliness whichtries to turn the whole of life into a pastime or a joke; Pilate's wasthat of strenuous worldliness--the worldliness which makes self its aimand subordinates everything to success. Of the two this is perhaps themore common; and, therefore, it will be both interesting andinstructive to watch its self-revelation under the search-light ofChrist's proximity. I. Pilate might perhaps have been justified in suspending the release ofJesus till after he received Him back from Herod; because, although hehad himself found no fault in Him, his ignorance of Jewish laws andcustoms might have made him hesitate about his own judgment and wish, before absolutely settling the case, to obtain the opinion of anexpert. When, however, he learned that the opinion of Herod coincidedwith his own, there was no further excuse for delay. Accordingly he plainly informed the Jews[1] that he had examined thePrisoner and found no fault in Him; he had also sent Him to Herod witha like result. "Therefore, " he continued. Therefore--what?"Therefore, " you expect to hear, "I dismiss Him from the bar acquitted, and I will protect Him, if need be, from all violence. " This wouldhave been the only conclusion in accordance with logic and justice. Pilate's conclusion was the extraordinary one: "Therefore I willchastise Him and release Him. " He would inflict the severe punishmentof scourging as a sop to their rage, and then release Him as a tributeto justice. Was a more unjust proposal ever made? Yet it was thoroughlycharacteristic of the man who made it as well as of the system which herepresented. The spirit of imperial Rome was the spirit of compromise, manoeuvre and expediency; as the spirit of government has too oftenbeen elsewhere, not only in the State but also in the Church. Pilatehad settled scores of cases on the same principle--or no principle;scores of officials were conducting their administration throughout thevast Roman empire in the same way at that very time. Only to Pilatefell the sinister distinction of putting the base system in operationin the case where its true character was exposed in the light ofhistory. But ought we not to believe that in all other cases, however obscurethe victims, the spirit manifested by Pilate has been equallydispleasing to God? In our Lord's picture of the Last Judgment onestriking trait is that all are astonished at the reasons assigned fortheir destiny. Those on the right hand are credited with feedingChrist when He was hungry, giving Him drink when He was thirsty, and soforth; and they ask in surprise, Lord, when saw we Thee hungry and fedThee, or thirsty and gave Thee drink? In like manner those on the leftare accused of seeing Christ hungry but neglecting to feed Him, ofseeing Him thirsty and refusing to give Him drink, and so forth; andthey ask, Lord, when saw we Thee hungry or thirsty and ministered notto Thee? You perhaps think they say so to conceal the sins of whichthey are conscious? Not at all. They are really astonished: theythink their identity has been mistaken and that they are about to bepunished for sins they have never committed. They are only aware ofhaving neglected a few children or old women not worth thinking about. But Christ says, Each of these stood for Me, and, when you neglected orinjured them, you were doing it unto Me. Thus may all life at the lastprove far more high and solemn than we now imagine. Take care how youtouch your brother man; you may be touching the apple of God's eye:take care how you do an injustice even to a child; you may find out atthe last that it is Christ you have been assailing. II. Pilate had cut himself loose from principle when he declared Jesus tobe innocent and yet ordered Him to be chastised. He thought, however, that he could guide his course safely enough to the point at which heaimed. We are to see how completely he failed and at last sufferedtotal shipwreck. Hands were stretched out towards him, as he advanced, some to save him, some to do the reverse; but the impulse of his ownfalse beginning carried him on to the fatal issue. The first hand stretched out to him was a loving and helpful one: itwas the hand of his wife. She sent to tell him of a dream she had hadabout his Prisoner and to warn him to have nothing to do with "thatjust man. " Difficulties have been made as to how she could know about Christ; butthere is no real difficulty. Probably, while Jesus was away atHerod's, Pilate had entered the palace and told his wife about thesingular trial and about the impression which Jesus had made upon hismind. When he left her, she had fallen asleep and dreamed about it;for, though our version makes her say, "This night I have dreamed aboutHim, " the literal translation is "this day"; and of course there mightbe many causes why a lady should fall asleep in the daytime. Her dreamhad been such as to fill her with a vague sense of alarm, and hermessage to her husband was the result. This incident has taken a strong hold of the Christian imagination andgiven rise to all kinds of guesses. Tradition has handed down the nameof Pilate's wife as Claudia Procula; and it is said that she was aproselyte of the Jewish religion; as high-toned heathen ladies in thatage not infrequently became when circumstances brought the OldTestament into their hands. The Greek Church has gone so far as tocanonise her, supposing that she became a Christian. Poets and artistshave tried to reproduce her dream. Many will remember the picture ofit in the Doré Gallery in London. The dreaming woman is representedstanding in a balcony and looking up an ascending valley, which iscrowded with figures. It is the vale of years or centuries, and thefigures are the generations of the Church of Christ yet to be. Immediately in front of her is the Saviour Himself, bearing His cross;behind and around Him are His twelve apostles and the crowds of theirconverts; behind these the Church of the early centuries, with thegreat fathers, Polycarp and Tertullian, Athanasius and Gregory, Chrysostom and Augustine; further back the Church of the Middle Ages, with the majestic forms and warlike accoutrements of the Crusadersrising from its midst; behind these the Church of modern times, withits heroes; then multitudes upon multitudes that no man can numberpressing forward in broadening ranks, till far aloft, in the white andshining heavens, lo, tier on tier and circle upon circle, with theangels of God hovering above them and on their flanks; and in themidst, transfigured to the brightness of a star, the cross, which inits rough reality He is bearing wearily below. Of course these are but fancies. In the woman's anxiety that no evilshould befall the Innocent we may, with greater certainty, trace thevestiges of the ancient Roman justice as it may have dwelt in the noblematrons, like Volumnia and Cornelia, whose names adorn the pristineannals of her race; while the wife's solicitude to save her husbandfrom a deed of sin associates her with the still nobler women of allages who have walked like guardian angels by the side of men immersedin the world and liable to be coarsened by its contact, to warn them ofthe higher laws and the unseen powers. We can hardly doubt that thehand of God was in this dream, or that it was outstretched to savePilate from the doom to which he was hastening. III. Another hand, however, was now stretched out to him; and he grasped iteagerly, thinking it was going to save him; when it suddenly pushed himdown towards the abyss. It was the hand of the mob of Jerusalem. Up to this point the actors assembled on the stage of Christ's trialwere comparatively few. It had been the express desire of the Jewishauthorities to hurry the case through before the populace of the cityand the crowds of Passover strangers got wind of it. The proceedingshad accordingly gone forward all night; and it was still early morning. As Jesus was led through the streets to Herod and back, accompanied byso many of the principal citizens, no doubt a considerable number musthave gathered. But now circumstances brought a great multitude on thescene. It was the custom of the Roman governor, on the Passover morning, torelease a prisoner to the people. As there were generally plenty ofpolitical prisoners on hand, rebels against the detested Roman yoke, but, for that very reason, favourites and heroes of the Jewishpopulace, this was a privilege not to be forgotten; and, while thetrial of Jesus was proceeding in the open air, the mob of the city camepouring through the palace gates and up the avenue, shouting for theirannual gift. For once their demand was welcome to Pilate, for he thought he saw init a way of escape from his own difficulty. He would offer them Jesus, who had a few days before been the hero of a popular demonstration, andas an aspirant to the Messiahship would, he imagined, be the veryperson they should want. It was an utterly unjust thing to do; because, first, it was treatingJesus as if He were already a condemned man, whereas Pilate had himselfa few minutes before declared Him innocent; and, secondly, it wasstaking the life of an innocent man on a guess, which might bemistaken, as to the fancy of the mob. No doubt, however, Pilateconsidered it kind, as he felt sure of the disposition of the populace;and, at all events, the chance of extricating himself was too good tolose. The minds of the mob it turned out, however, were pre-occupied with afavourite of their own. Singularly enough his name also appears tohave been Jesus: "Jesus Barabbas" is the name he bears in some of thebest manuscripts of the gospel of St. Matthew. [2] He was "a notableprisoner, " who had been guilty of insurrection in the city, in whichblood had been spilt, and was now lying in jail with the associateswhose ringleader he had been. A bandit, half robber halfinsurrectionary leader, is a figure which easily lays hold of thepopular imagination. They hesitated, however, when Pilate proposedJesus; and Pilate seems to have sent for the other prisoner, that theymight see the two side by side; for they could not, he thought, hesitate for a moment, if they had the opportunity of observing thecontrast. But this brief interval was utilised by the Sanhedrists to persuade themultitude. It must be remembered that this was not the Galilean crowdby which Jesus had been brought in triumph into the city a few daysbefore, but the mob of Jerusalem, with whom the ecclesiasticalauthorities had influence. [3] The priests and scribes, then, mingledamong them and used every artifice they could think of. Probably theirmost effective argument was to whisper that Jesus was obviously thechoice of Pilate, and therefore should not be theirs. If Pilate actually placed the two Jesuses side by side on his platform, what a sight it was! The political desperado, stained with murder, there; the Healer and Teacher, who had gone about continually doinggood, the Son of man, the Son of God, here. Now which will youhave--Jesus or Barabbas? And the cry came ringing from ten thousandthroats, "Barabbas!" To Jesus what must that have meant! These were the inhabitants ofJerusalem, whom He had longed to gather as a hen gathereth her chickensunder her wings; they were the hearers of His words, the subjects ofHis miracles, the objects of His love; and they prefer to Him amurderer and a robber. This scene has often been alleged as the self-condemnation ofdemocracy. _Vox populi vox Dei_, its flatterers have said; but lookyonder: when the multitude has to choose between Jesus and Barabbas, itchooses Barabbas. If this be so, the scene is equally decisive againstaristocracy. Did the priests, scribes and nobles behave better thanthe mob? It was by their advice that the mob chose. It is poor sport, on either side, to pelt opponents with suchreproaches. It is better far to learn holy fear from such a scene inreference to ourselves, to our own party and to our country. What arewe to admire? Whom are we to follow? In what are we to seeksalvation? Certainly there are great questions awaiting the democracy. Whom will it choose--the revolutionist or the regenerator? And to whatwill it trust--cleverness or character? What spirit will it adopt asits own--that of violence or that of love? Which means will itemploy--those which work from without inwards, or those which work fromwithin outwards? What end will it seek--the kingdom of meat and drink, or the kingdom which is righteousness and peace and joy in the HolyGhost? But such questions are not for the democracy alone. Allclasses, all parties, every generation and every country have, fromtime to time, to face them. And so has the individual. Perhaps allthe great choices of life ultimately resolve themselves into thisone--Jesus or Barabbas? IV. To Pilate the choice of Barabbas must have been not only a surprise, but a staggering blow. "What then, " he asked, "shall I do with Jesus?"Probably he expected the answer, Give us Him too; and there can belittle doubt that he would willingly have complied with such a request. But, instead of this, there came, quick as echo, the reply, "CrucifyHim!" and it was more a command than a request. He was now made sensible that what he had considered a loophole ofescape was a noose into which he had thrust his head. He might, indeed, have intimated that he had only given them the prerogative tosave one of the two lives, not to take either of them away. Butvirtually he had put both prisoners at their disposal. In this way, atall events, the mob interpreted the situation; and he did not ventureto contradict them. He was, however, deeply moved, and he did a very unusual thing: callingfor a basin of water, he washed his hands before them all and said, "Iam innocent from the blood of this just Person; see ye to it. " Thiswas an impressive act; yet its impressiveness was too theatrical. Hewashed his hands when he ought to have exerted them. And blood doesnot come off so easily. He could not abnegate his responsibility andcast it upon others. Public men frequently think they can do so: theysay that they bow to the force of public opinion, but wash their handsof the deed. But if their position, like Pilate's, demands that theyshould decide for themselves and take the consequences, the guilt ofsinful action clings to them and cannot be transferred. This wholescene, indeed, is a mirror for magistrates, to show them down what darkpaths they may be pushed if they resign themselves to be the mere toolsof the popular will. Pilate ought to have opposed the popular will atwhatever risk and refused to do the deed of which he disapproved. Butsuch a course would have involved loss to himself; and this was thereal reason for his conduct. The populace felt their triumph, and in reply to his solemndissociation of himself from Christ's death sent back the insultingcry, "His blood be on us and on our children. " Pilate was afraid ofthe guilt, but they were not. Well might the heavens have blackenedabove them at that word, and the earth shuddered beneath their feet!Profaner cry was never uttered. But they were mad with rage andreckless of everything but victory in the contest in which they wereengaged. Still, their words were not forgotten in the quarter to whichthey were directed; and it was not long before the curse which they hadinvoked descended on their city and their race. Meanwhile they gainedtheir end: the will of Pilate was breaking down before theirwell-directed persistency. [1] "On the return of Jesus from Herod, the Sanhedrists do not seem tohave been present. Pilate had to call them together, presumably fromthe temple. "--EDERSHEIM. [2] See Keim's note. Westcott and Hort reject it. Some have furtherseen an impressive coincidence in the name Barabbas, interpreting it"son of the father. " Jesus was by no means a rare name. [3] Hence the contrast, common in popular preaching, between themultitude crying "Hosanna" and the same multitude crying "Crucify" isincorrect. CHAPTER VII. THE CROWN OF THORNS. Pilate had failed in his attempt to save Jesus from the hands of Hisprosecutors, whose rage against their Victim was only intensified bythe struggle in which they had engaged; and there was no course nowopen to him but to hand Jesus over to the executioners for, at least, the preliminary tortures of crucifixion. It is not in accordance with modern Christian sentiment to dwell verymuch on the physical sufferings of Christ. Once the feeling on thissubject was very different: in old writers, like the mystic Tauler, forexample, every detail is enlarged upon and even exaggerated, till thepage seems to reek with blood and the mind of the reader grows sickwith horror. We rather incline to throw a veil over the ghastlydetails, or we uncover them only so far as may be necessary in order tounderstand the condition of His mind, in which we seek His realsufferings. The sacred body of our Lord was exposed to many shocks and crueltiesbefore the final and complicated horrors of the crucifixion. First, there was His agony in the garden. Then--not to speak of the chainslaid on Him when He was arrested--there was the blow on the face fromthe servant of the high priest. After His condemnation by theecclesiastical authorities in the middle of the night they "did spit inHis face and buffeted Him;" and others smote Him with the palms oftheir hands, saying, "Prophesy unto us, Thou Christ. Who is he thatsmote Thee?" The present is, therefore, the fourth access of physicalsuffering which He had to endure. First, they scourged Him. This was done by the Roman soldiers by orderof their master Pilate, though the governor, in all likelihood, retiredfrom the scene while it was being inflicted. It took place, it wouldappear, on the platform where the trial had been held, and in the eyesof all. The victim was stripped and stretched against a pillar, orbent over a low post, his hands being tied, so that he had no means ofdefending himself. The instrument of torture was a sort of knout orcat-o'-nine-tails, with bits of iron or bone attached to the ends ofthe thongs. Not only did the blows cut the skin and draw blood, butnot infrequently the victim died in the midst of the operation. Somehave supposed that Pilate, out of consideration for Jesus, may havemoderated either the number or the severity of the strokes; but, on theother hand, his plan of releasing Him depended on his being able toshow the Jews that He had suffered severely. The inability of Jesus tobear His own cross to the place of execution was no doubt chiefly dueto the exhaustion produced by this infliction; and this is a betterindication of the degree of severity than mere conjecture. After the scourging the soldiers took Him away with them to their ownquarters in the palace and called together the whole band to enjoy thespectacle. Evidently they thought that He was already condemned to becrucified; and anyone condemned to crucifixion seems, after beingscourged, to have been handed over to the soldiery to be handled asthey pleased, just as a hunted creature, when it is caught, is flung tothe dogs. And, indeed, this comparison is only too appropriate;because, as Luther has remarked, in those days men were treated as onlybrutes are treated now. To us it is incomprehensible how the wholeband should have been called together merely to gloat over thesufferings of a fellow-creature and to turn His pain and shame intobrutal mockery. This, however, was their purpose; and they enjoyed itas schoolboys enjoy the terror of a tortured animal. It must beremembered that these were men who on the field of battle were inuredto bloodshed and at Rome found their chief delight in watching thesports of the arena, where gladiators butchered one another to make aRoman holiday. Their horseplay took the form of a mock coronation. They had caughtthe drift of the trial sufficiently to know that the charge againstJesus was that He pretended to be a king; and lofty pretensions on thepart of one who appears to be mean and poor easily lend themselves toridicule. Besides, in their minds there was perhaps an amused scorn atthe thought of a Jew aiming at a sovereignty above that of Caesar. Foreign soldiers stationed in Palestine cannot have liked the Jews, whohated them so cordially; and this may have given an edge to their scornof a Jewish pretender. They treated Him as if they believed Him to be a king. A king mustwear the purple. And so they got hold of an old, cast-off officer'scloak of this colour and threw it over His shoulders. Then a king musthave a crown. So one of them ran out to the park in which the palacestood and pulled a few twigs from a tree or bush. These happened to bethorny; but this did not matter, it was all the better; they wereplaited into the rude semblance of a crown and crushed down on Hishead. To complete the outfit, a king must have a sceptre. And thisthey found without difficulty: a reed, probably used as awalking-stick, being thrust into His right hand. Thus was the mockking dressed up. And then, as on occasions of state they had seensubjects bow the knee to the emperor, saying, "_Ave, Caesar!_" so theyadvanced one after another to Jesus and, bending low, said, "Hail, Kingof the Jews!" But, after passing with mock solemnity, each turned and, with a burst of laughter, struck Him a blow, using for this purpose thereed which He had dropped. And, though I hardly dare to repeat it, they covered His face with spittle! What a spectacle! It might have been expected that those who werethemselves poor and lowly, and therefore subject to the oppression ofthe powerful, would have felt sympathy and compassion for one of theirown station when crushed by the foot of tyranny. But there is nocruelty like the cruelty of underlings. There is an instinct in all towish to see others cast down beneath themselves; and, especially, ifone who has aimed high is brought low, there is a sense of personalexultation at his downfall. Such are the base passions which lie atthe bottom of men's hearts; and the dregs of the dregs of human naturewere revealed on this occasion. What must it have been to Jesus to look on it--to have it thrust on Hissight and into contact with His very person, so that He could not getaway? What must it have been to Him, with His delicate bodily organismand sensitive mind, to be in the hands of those rude and ruthless men?It was, however, necessary, in order that He might fully accomplish thework which He had come to the world to perform. He had come to redeemhumanity--to go down to the very lowest depths to seek and to save thelost; and, therefore, He had to make close acquaintance with humannature in its worst specimens and its extremest degradation. He was tobe the Saviour of sinners as bad and degraded as even these soldiers;and, therefore, He had to come in contact with them and see what theywere. Thus have I passed as lightly as was possible over the details; norwould my readers wish me to dwell on them further. But it will beprofitable to linger on this spot a little longer, in order to learnthe lessons of the scene. First, notice in the conduct of the tormentors of Jesus the abuse ofone of the gifts of God. In the conduct of the Roman soldiers fromfirst to last the most striking feature is that at every point theyturned their work into horseplay and merriment. Now, laughter is agift of God. It is a kind of spice which the Creator has given to betaken along with the somewhat unpalatable food of ordinary life. It isa kind of sunshine to enliven the landscape, which is otherwise toodull and sombre. The power of seeing the amusing side of thingsimmensely lightens the load of life; and he who possesses the gift ofevoking hearty and innocent mirth may be a true benefactor of hisspecies. [1] But, while laughter is a gift of God, there is no other gift of Hiswhich is more frequently abused and converted from a blessing into acurse. When laughter is directed against sacred things and holypersons; when it is used to belittle and degrade what is great andreverend; when it is employed as a weapon with which to tortureweakness and cover innocence with ridicule--then, instead of being thefoam on the cup at the banquet of life, it becomes a deadly poison. Laughter guided these soldiers in their inhuman acts; it concealed fromthem the true nature of what they were doing; and it wounded Christmore deeply than even the scourge of Pilate. A second thing to be noticed is that it was against the kingly officeof the Redeemer that the opposition of men was directed on thisoccasion. It was different on a former occasion, when He was abused atthe close of the ecclesiastical trial. Then it was His propheticoffice that was turned into ridicule: "when they had blindfolded Him, they struck Him on the face and asked Him, saying, Prophesy who is itthat smote thee. " Here, on the other hand, the ridicule was directedagainst Him entirely on the ground of His claiming to be a king. Thesoldiers considered it an absurdity and a joke that one apparently somean, friendless and powerless should make any such pretensions. Many a time since then has the same derision been awakened by thisclaim of Christ. He is the King of nations. But earthly kings andstatesmen have ridiculed the idea that His will and His law shouldcontrol them in their schemes and ambitions. Even where His authorityis nominally acknowledged, both aristocracies and democracies are slowto recognise that their legislation and customs should be regulated byHis words. He is King of the Church. Andrew Melville told King James:"There are two kings and two kingdoms in Scotland; there is King James, the head of this commonwealth, and there is Christ Jesus, the King ofthe Church, whose subject James VI. Is, and of whose kingdom he is nota king, nor a lord, nor a head, but a member. " The entire history ofthe Scottish Church has been one long struggle to maintain this truth;but the struggle has frequently been carried on in the face ofopposition almost as scornful as that which assailed Jesus in Pilate'spalace. Most vital of all is the acknowledgment of Christ's kingshipin the realm of the individual life; but it is here that His will ismost resisted. In words we acknowledge allegiance to Him; but in whichof us has the victory over the flesh been so complete that His fullclaim has been conceded, to have the arrangement of our business andour leisure and to dictate what is to be done with our time, our meansand our services? A third lesson is to recognise that in what Jesus bore on this occasionHe was suffering for us. Of all the features of the scene the one that has most impressed theimagination of Christendom is the crown of thorns. It was somethingunusual, and brought out the ingenuity and wantonness of cruelty. Besides, as the wound of a thorn has been felt by everyone, it bringsthe pain of the Sufferer nearer to us than any other incident. But itis chiefly by its symbolism that it has laid hold of the Christianmind. When Adam and Eve were driven from the garden into the bleak andtoilsome world, their doom was that the ground should bring forth tothem thorns and thistles. Thorns were the sign of the curse; that is, of their banishment from God's presence and of all the sad and painfulconsequences following therefrom. And does not the thorn, staring fromthe naked bough of winter in threatening ugliness, lurking beneath theleaves or flowers of summer to wound the approaching hand, tearing theclothes or the flesh of the traveller who tries to make his way throughthe thicket, burning in the flesh where it has sunk, fitly stand forthat side of life which we associate with sin--the side of care, fret, pain, disappointment, disease and death? In a word, it symbolises thecurse. But it was the mission of Christ to bear the curse; and, as Helifted it on His own head, He took it off the world. He bore our sinsand carried our sorrows. Why is it that, when we think of the crown of thorns now, it is notonly with horror and pity, but with an exultation which cannot berepressed? Because, cruel as was the soldiers' jest, there was adivine fitness in their act; and wisdom was, even through their sin, fulfilling her own intention. There are some persons with faces sohandsome that the meanest dress, which would excite laughter or disgustif worn by others, looks well on them, and the merest shreds ofornament, stuck on them anyhow, are more attractive than the mostelaborate toilets of persons less favoured by nature. And so aboutChrist there was something which converted into ornaments even thethings flung at Him as insults. When they called Him the Friend ofpublicans and sinners, though they did it in derision, they were givingHim a title for which a hundred generations have loved Him; and so, when they put on His head the crown of thorns, they were unconsciouslybestowing the noblest wreath that man could weave Him. Down throughthe ages Jesus passes, still wearing the crown of thorns; and Hisfollowers and lovers desire for Him no other diadem. Fourthly, this scene teaches the lesson of patience in suffering. I remember a saint whom it was my privilege to visit in the beginningof my life as a minister. Though poor and uneducated, she was a personof very unusual natural powers; her ideas were singularly original, andshe had a charming pleasantness of wit. Though not very old, she knewthat she was doomed to die; and the disease from which she wassuffering was one of the most painful incident to humanity. Often, Iremember, she would tell me, that, when the torture was at the worst, she lay thinking of the sufferings of the Saviour, and said to herselfthat the shooting pains were not so bad as the spikes of the thorns. Christ's sufferings are a rebuke to our softness and self-pleasing. Itis not, indeed, wrong to enjoy the comforts and the pleasures of life. God sends these; and, if we receive them with gratitude, they may liftus nearer to Himself. But we are too terrified to be parted from themand too afraid of pain and poverty. Especially ought the sufferings ofChrist to brace us up to endure whatever of pain or reproach we mayhave to encounter for His sake. Many would like to be Christians, butare kept back from decision by dread of the laughter of profanecompanions or by the prospect of some worldly loss. But we cannot lookat the suffering Saviour without being ashamed of such cowardly fears. If the crown of thorns now becomes Christ so well as to be the prideand the song of men and angels, be assured that any twig from thatcrown which we may have to wear will one day turn out to be our mostdazzling ornament. [1] A ministerial friend told me that he once, in the hearing of Dr. Andrew Bonar, made reference to some things in the life of St. Paulwhich seemed to him to betray on the part of the apostle a sense ofhumour. He was not very sure how Dr. Bonar might take such a remark, and at the close he asked if he agreed with him. "Not only, " was thereply, "do I agree with you, but I go further: I think there aredistinct traces of humour in the sayings and the conduct of our Lord;"and he proceeded to quote examples. Everyone is aware how Dr. Bonarhimself knew how to combine with the profoundest reverence andsaintliness a strain of delightful mirth; and the absence of this isthe great defect of his otherwise charming autobiography. CHAPTER VIII. THE SHIPWRECK OF PILATE We have lingered long at the judgment-seat of Pilate. Far too long. Pilate has detained us. He knew perfectly well, the first glance hebestowed on the case, what it was his duty to do. But, instead ofacting at once on his conviction, he put off. Of such delay goodseldom comes. Pilate gave temptation time to assail him. He resistedit, indeed; he fought hard and long against it; but he ought never tohave given it the chance. And he miserably succumbed in the end. I. When Pilate delivered Jesus over to be scourged, it looked as if he hadsurrendered Him to the cross; and so in all probability the Jewsthought, because scourging was the usual preliminary to crucifixion. He, however, had not yet abandoned the hope of saving Jesus: he wasstill secretly adhering to the proposal he had made, to chastise Himand then let Him go. Perhaps, if he retired into the palace while thescourging was taking place, his wife may have urged him to make afurther effort on behalf of that Just Man. At all events he came out on the platform, round which the Jews werestill standing, and informed them that the case was not finished; and, as Jesus, whose scourging was now over, came forward, he turned roundand, pointing to Him, exclaimed with deep emotion, "Behold the Man. " It was an involuntary expression of commiseration, [1] an appeal to theJews to recognize the unreasonableness of proceeding further: Jesus wasso obviously not such an one as they had tried to make Him out to be;at all events He had suffered enough. But the Christian mind has in all ages felt in these words a sensedeeper than Pilate intended. As Caiaphas was uttering a greater truththan he knew when he said it was expedient that one should die for thewhole people, so in uttering this exclamation the governor was anunconscious prophet. Preachers in every subsequent age have adoptedhis words and, pointing to Jesus, cried, "Behold the Man!" Paintershave chosen this moment, when Jesus came forth, bleeding from the cruelstripes and wearing the purple robe and crown of thorns, as the one inwhich to portray the Man of Sorrows; and many a priceless canvas bearsthe title _Ecce Homo_. From Pilate's lips there fell two words which the world will neverforget--the question, "What is truth?" and this exclamation, "Beholdthe Man!" And the one may be taken as the answer to the other. Whenthe question, "What is truth?" is put with deep earnestness, what doesit mean but this?--Who will make God known to us? who will clear up themystery of existence? who will reveal to man his own destiny? And tothese questions is there any answer but this; "Behold the Man"? He hasshown to the sons of men what they ought to be; His is the perfectlife, after which every human life ought to be fashioned; He has openedthe gates of immortality and revealed the secrets of the other world. And, what is far more important, He has not only shown us what our lifehere and hereafter ought to be, but how the ideal may be realised. Heis not only the image of perfection but the Saviour from sin. Therefore ought the world to turn to Him and "behold the Man. " II. Pilate hoped that the sight of the sufferings of Jesus would move thehard hearts of His persecutors, as it had moved his own. But the onlyresponse to his appeal was, "Crucify Him, crucify Him. " It is to benoted, however, that these cruel words now came from "the chief priestsand officers. " Apparently the common people were moved: they mighthave yielded, if their superiors had allowed them. But nothing couldmove those hard hearts; indeed, the sight of blood only inflamed themthe more; and they felt certain that by sheer persistence they couldbreak down Pilate's opposition. He was at his wits' end and replied to them angrily, "Take ye Him andcrucify Him; for I find no fault in Him"; meaning probably, that he waswilling to yield the Prisoner up to their will, if they would take theresponsibility of executing Him; if, indeed, he had in his mind anyclear meaning and was not merely uttering an exclamation of annoyance. They perceived that the critical moment had arrived, and at last theylet out the true reason for which they desired His death: "We have alaw, and by our law He ought to die, because He made Himself the Son ofGod. " This was the ground on which they had condemned Him themselves, thoughup to this point they had kept it concealed. They had not mentionedit, because they thought that Pilate would jeer at it. It had on him, however, a very different effect. All the morning he had been feelinguneasy; and the more he saw of Jesus the more he disliked the part hewas playing. But now at length the mention of His claim to be the Sonof God caused his fears to take a definite and alarming shape. Itrevived in his mind the stories, with which his own pagan religion wasrife, of gods or sons of the gods who had sometimes appeared on earthin disguise. It was dangerous to have to do with them; for any injuryinflicted on them, even unconsciously, might be terribly avenged. Hehad discerned in Jesus something mysterious and inexplicable: what ifHe were the son of Jehovah, the native deity of Palestine, as Castorand Pollux were sons of Jupiter? and might not Jehovah, if He wereinjured, blast the man who wronged Him with a curse? Such was theterror that flashed through his mind; and, taking Jesus once moreinside the palace, he asked Him, with a mixture of awe and curiosity, "Whence art Thou?" Jesus gave him no answer, but again retired into the majestic silencewhich at three points already had marked His trial. In the wholeconduct of the Saviour in His sufferings there is nothing more sublimethan these pauses; but it is not easy at every point to gauge the stateof mind to which they were due. Why was Jesus silent at this point?Some have said, because it was impossible to answer the question. Hecould not have said either Yes or No; for, if He had said that God wasHis Father, Pilate would have understood the statement in a grosslypagan sense; and yet, to avoid this, He could not say that He was notthe Son of God. So it was best to say nothing. The true explanation, however, is simpler. Jesus would say nothingabout whether He was the Son of God or not, because He did not wish tobe released on this ground. Not as a son of God, but as an innocentman, which Pilate had again and again acknowledged Him to be, was Heentitled to be set free; and His silence called upon Pilate to act onthis acknowledgment. The judge was more than ever astonished; and he was irritated a littleat being thus treated. "Speakest Thou not unto me?" he asked, flushing; "knowest Thou not that I have power to crucify Thee and havepower to release Thee?" Poor man! it was to be seen before manyminutes had passed how much power he had. And what was this power ofwhich he boasted? He spoke as if he had arbitrary discretion to dowhatever he pleased. No just judge would make such a claim: justicetakes from him the power to follow his own inclination if it be unjust. It was of this Jesus reminded him when He now answered with quietdignity, "Thou couldest have no power at all against Me, unless it weregiven thee from above. " [2] He reminds him that the power he wields isdelegated by Heaven, and therefore not to be used according to his owncaprice, but according to the dictates of justice. Yet He added, "Therefore he that delivered Me unto thee hath the greater sin. " Heacknowledged that Pilate was in a position in which he was compelled totry the case: he had not taken it up at his own hand, as the Jewishauthorities had done. Thus Jesus recognised all the difficulties of His judge's position andwas willing to make for him every allowance. This was He whom Pilatehad, a few minutes before, given over to torture. Was there ever suchsublime and unselfish clemency? Could there have been a more completetriumph over resentment and irritation? If the silence of Christ wassublime, no less sublime, when He did speak, were His words. III. Pilate felt the greatness and the magnanimity of his Prisoner, and cameforth determined at all hazards to set Him free. The Jews saw it inhis face. And at length they brought out their last weapon, which theyhad been keeping in reserve and Pilate had been fearing all the time:they threatened to complain against him to the emperor; for this wasthe meaning of what they now cried: "If thou let this man go, thou artnot Caesar's friend: whosoever maketh himself a king speaketh againstCaesar. " There was nothing which a Roman provincial governor so much dreaded asa complaint lodged against him at Rome. And in Pilate's case such anaccusation, for more reasons than one, would have been speciallyperilous. The imperial throne was occupied at the time by one who wasa most suspicious master. Tiberius seemed to delight in humiliatingand disgracing his subordinates. Besides, at this very period he waspeculiarly dangerous. A diseased body, the punishment of vices longindulged, had made his mind gloomy and savage; in fact, he was littlebetter than a madman--morose, suspicious and malicious. Nor was anycharge so likely to inflame him as the one which they proposed to layagainst Pilate. It was well known at Rome that the hope of a Messiahwas spread throughout the East; and any provincial governor supposed tobe favouring or even conniving at the claims of such a pretender wouldcertainly be recalled, probably exiled, and possibly executed. _AmicusCaesaris_, "Caesar's friend, " was one of the most coveted titles of aman in Pilate's position; and to be accused of acting as no friend ofCaesar's could act was the most serious of all dangers. But there was something else which lent point to the threat of theJewish authorities: Pilate well knew that his administration could notbear the light of an investigation such as would inevitably follow acomplaint from his subjects. It is a curious thing that in a secularwriter of that age we find an account of another occasion on which thissame threat was held over Pilate; and the writer who mentions it adds:"He was afraid that if a Jewish embassy were sent to Rome, they mightdiscuss the many maladministrations of his government, his extortions, his unjust decrees, his inhuman punishments. " [3] Such had been thecharacter of Pilate's past life; and now, when he was going to do ahumane and righteous act, it stayed his hand. There is nothing whichso frustrates good resolutions and paralyzes noble efforts as the deadweight of past sins. Those who are acquainted with secret anddiscreditable chapters of a man's history are able, wielding thisknowledge over his head, to say, Thou shalt not do this good act whichthou wishest to do, or, Thou shalt do this evil and shameful thingwhich we bid thee. There are companies in which men cannot utter thefine, high-sounding things they would say elsewhere, because there arepresent those who know how their lives have contradicted them. What isit that mocks the generous thought rising in our minds, that silencesthe noble word on our lips, that paralyzes the forming energy of ouractions? Is it not the internal whisper, Remember how you have failedbefore? This is the curse of past sin: it will not let us do the goodwe would. But, if a man has thus committed himself by an evil past, what is he todo? What ought Pilate to have done? There is only one course. It isto summon together the resources of his manhood, defy consequences, anddo the right forthwith, come what may. One step taken in loyalty toconscience, one word of confession spoken, and in a moment the power ofthe tyranny is broken, and the spellbound man is free to issue forthfrom the inglorious prison of the past. Alas, Pilate was not equal to any such effort. For the sake ofrighteousness, for the sake of this impressive and innocent but obscureand friendless Galilean, to face a complaint at Rome and run the riskof exile and poverty--the man of the world's philosophy could not riseto any such height. He belonged to the world, whose fashion andfavour, pleasures and comforts were the breath of his nostrils; and, when he heard the menace of his subjects, he surrendered at discretion. Thus Jewish passion and persistency triumphed. Pilate resisted, but hewas forced to yield inch by inch. He wished to do right; he felt thespell of Jesus; and it irritated him to have to go against hisconscience, but his subjects compelled him to obey their wicked will. Yet the true reason of his failure was in himself--in the shallownessand worldliness of his own character, which this occasion laid bare tothe very foundations. [4] IV. There was little more to do. The mind of Pilate was very savage andhis heart very sore. He had been beaten and humiliated; and he wouldgladly inflict some humiliation on his opponents, if he could find away. He ascended the judgment-seat, "in a place that is called thePavement, but in the Hebrew Gabbatha"--an act similar in significance, I suppose, with our judges' habit, before pronouncing a death sentence, of putting on the black cap. Pointing to Jesus, he exclaimed, "Beholdyour King!" It was as much as to say that he believed this really tobe their Messiah--this poor, bleeding, mishandled Man. He was tryingto cut them with a taunt. And he succeeded: smarting with pain theyshouted, "Away with Him! away with Him! crucify Him!" "What, " heproceeded, "shall I crucify your King?" And, borne away with fury, they responded, "We have no king but Caesar. " What a word to come fromthe representatives of a nation to which pertained "the adoption andthe glory and the covenants and the giving of the law and the serviceof God and the promises!" It was the renouncement of their birthright, the abandonment of their destiny. Pilate well knew what it had costtheir proud hearts thus to forswear the hopes of their fathers andacknowledge the right of their conqueror; but to compel them to swallowthis bitter draught was some compensation for the cup of humiliationthey had compelled him to drink. And he took them at their word. [1] Perhaps also of admiration. Pilate had never before seen soimpressive a specimen of humanity; and the contrast between thesweetness and majesty of His appearance and the indignities which Hehad suffered drew from him this involuntary exclamation. One recallsShakespeare's words about Brutus: "His life was gentle, and the elements So mixed in him, that nature might stand up And say to all the world, This was a Man!" [2] We are much tempted on account of the "therefore" to explain "fromabove" as referring to the Jewish tribunal. [3] Philo. [4] It is a striking illustration of the irony of history that Pilatewas overtaken by the very fate to escape which he abandoned Jesus. Soon after the Crucifixion his subjects lodged a complaint against himat Rome. He was recalled from his province and never returned. Ultimately, it is said, he terminated his existence with his own hand, "wearied out with miseries. " Many legends in subsequent centuriesclustered about his name. Several spots were supposed to be haunted byhis restless and despairing spirit, notably a spring in Switzerland onthe top of Mount Pilatus, which was thought to have derived its namefrom him; but this is more than doubtful. CHAPTER IX. JUDAS ISCARIOT To the civil trial of our Lord there is a sad appendix, as we havealready had one to the ecclesiastical trial. Christ's great confessionin the palace of the high priest was accompanied by the great denial ofPeter outside; and the proceedings in the court of Pontius Pilate wereaccompanied by the final act of the treachery of Judas. Only in thelatter case we are not able with the same accuracy to fix thecircumstances of time and place. I. Judas is one of the darkest riddles of human history. In the Vision ofHell the poet Dante, after traversing the circles of the universe ofwoe, in which each separate kind of wickedness receives its peculiarpunishment, arrives at last, in the company of his guide, at thenethermost circle of all, in the very bottom of the pit, where theworst of all sinners and the basest of all sins are undergoingretribution. It is a lake not of fire but of ice, beneath whosetransparent surface are visible, fixed in painful postures, the figuresof those who have betrayed their benefactors; because this, in Dante'sestimation, is the worst of sins. In the midst of them stands out, vast and hideous, "the emperor who sways the realm of woe"--Satanhimself; for this was the crime which lost him Paradise. And the nextmost conspicuous figure is Judas Iscariot. He is in the mouth ofSatan, being champed and torn by his teeth as in a ponderous engine. Such was the mediaeval view of this man and his crime. But in moderntimes opinion has swung round to the opposite extreme. Ours is an ageof toleration, and one of its favourite occupations is therehabilitation of evil reputations. Men and women who have stood forcenturies in the pillory of history are being taken down; their casesare retried; and they are set up on pedestals of admiration. Sometimesthis is done with justice, but is other cases it has been carried toabsurdity. Nobody, it would appear, has ever been very bad; thecriminals and scoundrels have been men whose motives have beenmisunderstood. Among those on whose behalf the attempt has thus beenmade to reverse the verdict of history is Judas Iscariot. Eighteencenturies had agreed to regard him as the meanest of mankind, but inour century he has been transmuted into a kind of hero. The theory isof German origin; but it was presented to the English public by DeQuincey, who adorned it with all the persuasiveness of his meretriciousgenius. It is held that the motive of Judas was totally different from the onehitherto supposed: it was not filthy lucre. The smallness of the pricefor which he sold his Master--it was less than four pounds of ourmoney, though the value of this sum was much greater then--proves thatthere must have been another motive. The traditional conception isinconsistent with Christ's choice of him to be a disciple; and it isirreconcilable with the tragic greatness of his repentance. His viewof Christ's enterprise was no doubt of a material cast: he expectedChrist to be a king, and hoped to hold a high place in His court: butthese ideas were common to all the disciples, who to the very end werewaiting to see their Master throw off the cloak of His humble conditionand take to Himself His great power and reign; only they left the timeand the means in their Master's hands, not venturing to criticise Hisproceedings. Judas was not so patient. He was a man of energy andpracticality, and he allowed himself to believe that he had discerned adefect in the character of his Master. Jesus was too spiritual andunworldly for the enterprise on which he had embarked--too muchoccupied with healing, preaching and speculating. These would be wellenough when once the kingdom was established; but He was losing Hisopportunities. His delay had turned against Him the authoritativeclasses. One vast force, indeed, was still on His side--the enthusiasmof the populace--but even of it He was not taking advantage. When, onPalm Sunday, He was borne into the capital by a crowd throbbing withMessianic expectation, He seemed to have in His hand what Judassupposed to be the object of His life; but He did nothing, and thecrowd dispersed, disappointed and disheartened. What Jesus requiredwas to be precipitated into a situation where He would be compelled toact. He lacked energy and decision; but, if He were delivered into thehands of the authorities, who were known to be seeking His life, Hecould hesitate no longer. When they laid hands on Him, He would ofcourse liberate Himself from them, and His miraculous power wouldexhibit itself in forms so irresistible as to awaken universalenthusiasm. Thus would His kingdom be set up in magnificence; and theman whom the king would delight to honour would surely be the humblefollower by whose shrewdness and audacity the crisis had been broughtabout. II. Even if this were the true history of Judas, his conduct would not, perhaps, be as innocent as it looks. In the course of His life ourLord had frequently to deal with persons who attempted, from whatappeared to themselves to be good motives, to interfere with Hisplans--to precipitate Him into action before His time or to restrainHim when His time had come--and He always resented such interferencewith indignation. Even His own mother was not spared when she playedthis part. To do God's will exactly, neither more nor less, neitheranticipating it nor lagging behind it, was the inner-most principle ofthe life of Jesus; and He treated any interference with it as asuggestion of the Evil One. Still the theory will not hold water. The Scriptures know nothing ofit, and it is inconsistent with the tone of moral repulsion in whichthey speak of Judas. Besides, they assign a totally different motive. They affirm that Judas was a thief and stole out of the bag from whichJesus gave to the poor and supplied His own wants--a sacrilege whichmost thieves would have scorned. It is in entire accordance with thisthat the word with which he approached the Sanhedrim was, "How muchwill ye give me?" That he was willing to accept so little proves howstrong his passion was. It is altogether impossible that a character of this kind can have beencombined with the generous although mistaken enthusiasm which thetheory attributes to him. [1] But, on the other hand, the passion ofavarice may easily have been nourished by brooding with disappointmenton Messianic visions; and the theory of De Quincey may supply importanthints for unravelling the mystery of his career. There can be no doubt that at one time the life of Judas seemed full ofpromise. Jesus, who was so strict about permitting any to follow Him, would not have chosen him into the apostolic circle unless he hadexhibited enthusiasm for His person and His cause. He well knew, indeed, that in his motives there was a selfish alloy; but this was thecase with all His followers; and fellowship with Himself was the firein which the alloy was to be purged out. In the other apostles this process actually took place: they wererefined by fellowship with Him. Their worldliness, indeed, remained tothe end of His earthly career, but it was growing less and less; andother ties, stronger than their hopes of earthly glory, were slowly butsurely binding them indissolubly to His cause. In Judas, on thecontrary, the reverse process took place: what was good in him grewless and less, and at last the sole bond which held him to Christ waswhat he could make out of the connection. When the suspicion first dawned on him that the hope of a Messianickingdom was not to be fulfilled, the inner man of Judas underwent acritical change. This happened a year before the end, on the occasionwhen Christ resisted the attempt of His followers to take Him by forceand make Him a king, and when many of His disciples went back andwalked no more with Him. At that time Jesus warned Judas against theevil spirit which he was allowing to take possession of his mind by thestrong saying, "Have I not chosen you twelve? and one of you is adevil. " But the disciple did not heed the warning. Perhaps it was atthis stage that he commenced to steal from the bag which he carried. He felt that he must have some tangible reward for following Christ, and he justified his peculation by saying to himself that what he wastaking was infinitely less than he had been led to expect. He regardedhimself as an ill-used man. Under the practice of this secret sin his character could not butrapidly deteriorate. Jesus dropped a word of warning now and then; butit had the reverse of the desired effect. Judas knew that Jesus knew;and he grew to hate Him. This was by far the worst aspect of the case. The other disciples were becoming more and more attached to theirMaster, because they felt increasingly how much they owed Him; butJudas did not feel that he owed Him anything: on the contrary, hisfeeling was that he had been betrayed. Why should he not betray inturn? There may even have been an element of scorn in selling Christfor so little. More than one of the Evangelists seem to connect the treachery of Judasdirectly with the scene at Bethany in which Mary anointed Jesus withcostly ointment. Apparently this beautiful act brought all the evil inhis heart to such a head that an outbreak could no longer be deferred. His spite found vent in the angry contention that the money ought tohave been given to the poor. It was a large sum, off which he couldhave taken an unusually large slice of booty. But probably there wasmore in the occasion to incense Judas. To him this feasting andanointing, at the moment when the crisis of Christ's fortunes hadobviously come, appeared sheer folly; as a practical man he despisedit. It was manifest that the game was up; a leader loitering anddreaming in this fashion at the crisis of his fate was doomed. It wastime to get out of the ship, for it was clearly sinking; but he woulddo so in such a way as to gratify his resentment, his scorn and hislove of money all at once. Thus the master-passion of Judas was nourished from potent springs. But, indeed, avarice in itself is one of the most powerful of motives. In the teaching of the pulpit it may seldom be noticed, but both inScripture and in history it occupies a prominent place. It isquestionable if anything else makes so many ill deeds to be done. Avarice breaks all the commandments. Often has it put the weapon intothe hand of the murderer; in most countries of the world it has inevery age made the ordinary business of the market-place a warfare offalsehood; the bodies of men and the hearts of women have been sold forgold. Why is it that gigantic wrongs flourish from age to age, andpractices utterly indefensible are continued with the overwhelmingsanction of society? It is because there is money in them. Avarice isa passion of demonic strength; but it may help us to keep it out of ourhearts to remember that it was the sin of Judas. III. The repentance of Judas is alleged as the sign of a superior spirit. Certainly it is an indication of the goodness which he once possessed, because it is only by the light of a spark of goodness that thedarkness of sin can be perceived; and the more the conscience has beenenlightened the severer is the reaction when it is outraged. Those whohave in any degree shared the company of Christ can never afterwards beas if they had not enjoyed this privilege; and religion, if it does notsave, will be the cruellest element in the soul's perdition. It is not certain at what point the reaction in the mind of Judas setin. [2] There were many incidents of the trial well calculated toawaken in him a revulsion of feeling. At length, however, theretributive powers of conscience were thoroughly aroused--those powerswhich in all literature have formed the theme of the deepest tragedy;which in the Bible are typified by Cain, escaping as a fugitive and avagabond from the cry of his brother's blood; which in Greek literatureare shadowed forth by the terrible figures of the Eumenides, withgorgon faces and blood-dropping eyes, following silently butremorselessly those upon whose track they have been set; and which inShakespeare are represented in the soul-curdling scenes of Macbeth andRichard III. He was seized with an uncontrollable desire to undo whathe had done. The money, on which his heart had been set, was now likea spectre to his excited fancy. Every coin seemed to be an eye throughwhich eternal justice was gazing at his crime or to have a tonguecrying out for vengeance. As the murderer is irresistibly drawn backto the spot where his victim lies, he returned to the place where hisdeed of treachery had been transacted and, confronting those by whom hehad been employed, handed back the money with the passionateconfession, "I have betrayed innocent blood. " But he had come tomiserable comforters. With cynical disdain they asked, "What is thatto us? See thou to that. " They had been cordial enough to him when hehad come before, but now, after the instrument has served their turn, they fling it contemptuously aside. The miserable man had to turn awayfrom the scorn of the partners of his guilt; but he could keep themoney no longer--it was burning in his hands--and, before escaping fromthe precincts, he flung it down. This is said to have happened in thatpart of the temple which could be entered only by the priests;[3] andhe must either have made a rush across the forbidden threshold oravailed himself of an open door to fling it in. Not only did he desireto be rid of it, but a passionate impulse urged him to leave with thepriests their own share of the guilt. Then he rushed away from the temple. But where was he going? Oh thatit had been in him to flee to Christ--that, breaking through allobstacles and rules, he had rushed to Him wherever He was to be foundand cast himself at His feet! What if the soldiers had cut him down?Then he would have been the martyr of penitence, and that very day hewould have been with Christ in Paradise. Judas repented of his sin; heconfessed it; he cast from him the reward of iniquity; but hispenitence lacked the element which is most essential of all--he did notturn to God. True repentance is not the mere horror and excitement ofa terrified conscience: it is the call of God; it is letting go theevil because the good has prevailed; it includes faith as well as fear. IV. The manner of his end is also used as an argument in favour of the morehonourable view of Judas. The act of suicide is one which has notinfrequently been invested with a glamour of romance, and to go out oflife the Roman way, as it is called, has been considered, even byChristians, an evidence of unusual strength of mind. The very reverseis, however, the true character of suicide: except in those melancholycases where the reason is impaired, it must be pronounced the mostcontemptible act of which a human being is capable. It is an escapefrom the burdens and responsibilities of existence; but these burdensand responsibilities are left to be borne by others, and along withthem is left an intolerable heritage of shame. From a religious pointof view it appears in a still worse light. Not only does the suicide, as even heathen writers have argued, desert the post of duty whereProvidence has placed him, but he virtually denies the character andeven the existence of God. He denies His character, for, if hebelieved in His mercy and love, he would flee to instead of from Him;and he denies His existence, for no one who believed that he was tomeet God on the other side of the veil would dare in this disorderlyway to rush into His presence. The mode of Judas' suicide was characteristically base. Hanging doesnot appear to have been at all usual among the Jews. In the entire OldTestament there is said to occur only a single case; and, strange tosay, it is that of the man who, in the principal act of his life also, was the prototype of Judas. Ahithophel, the counsellor and friend ofDavid, betrayed his master, as Judas betrayed Christ; and he came tothe same ignominious end. It would seem, further, that the hanging of Judas was accompanied withcircumstances of unusual horror. This we gather from the account inthe beginning of Acts. [4] The terms employed are obscure; but theyprobably signify that the suicidal act was attended by a clumsyaccident, in consequence of which the body, being suspended over aprecipice and suddenly dropped by the snapping of the rope, was mangledin a shocking manner, which made a profound impression on all who heardof it. [5] And this sense of his end being accursed was further accentuated in theminds of the early Christians by the circumstance that the money forwhich he had sold Christ was eventually used for the purchase of agraveyard for burying strangers in. The priests, though they picked upthe coins from the floor over which Judas had strewn them, did not, scrupulous men, consider them good enough to be put in the sacredtreasury; so they applied them to this purpose. The public wit, hearing of it, dubbed the place the Field of Blood; and thus thecemetery became a kind of monument to the traitor, of which he tookpossession as the first of the outcasts for whom it was designed. The world has agreed to regard Judas as the chief of sinners; but, inso judging, it has exceeded its prerogative. Man is not competent tojudge his brother. The master-passion of Judas was a base one; Dantemay be right in considering treachery the worst of crimes; and thesupreme excellence of Christ affixes an unparalleled stigma to theinjury inflicted on Him. But the motives of action are too hidden, andthe history of every deed is too complicated, to justify us in sayingwho is the worst of men. It is not at all likely that those whom humanopinion would rank highest in merit or saintliness will be assigned thesame positions in the rewards of the last day; and it is just asunlikely that human estimates are right when they venture to assign thedegrees of final condemnation. Two things it is our duty to do inregard to Judas: first, not so to palliate his sin as to blunt thehealthy, natural abhorrence of it; and, secondly, not to think of himas a sinner apart and alone, with a nature so different from our ownthat to us he can be no example. But for the rest, there is only oneverdict which is at once righteous, dignified and safe; and it iscontained in the declaration of St. Peter, that he "went to his ownplace. " [1] Hanna, in _The Last Day of Our Lord's Passion_, attempts to combineboth motives, but without being able really to unite them; they remainas distinct as oil and water. [2] If, as St. Matthew seems to indicate, Judas disappeared from thescene long before the end of the trial, this is strongly against thetheory of De Quincey, according to which he must have stayed to thelast moment, hoping to see Jesus assert Himself. [3] _En to nao_. [4] St. Matthew knows best the beginning, St. Luke the end of the story. [5] De Quincey's interpretation of the words as a description of mentalanguish must be felt by every reader of the brilliant essay to beforced and unnatural. CHAPTER X. VIA DOLOROSA We have finished the first part of our theme--the Trial of Jesus--andturn now to the second and more solemn part of it--His Death. Thetrial had been little better than a mockery of justice: on the part ofthe ecclesiastical authority it was a foregone conclusion, and on thepart of the civil authority it was the surrender of a life acknowledgedto be innocent to the ends of selfishness and policy. But at last itwas over, and nothing remained but to carry the unjust sentence intoexecution. So the tribunal of Pilate was closed for the day; theprecincts of the palace were deserted by the multitude; and theprocession of death was formed. I. Persons condemned to death in modern times are allowed a few weeks, orat least days, to prepare for eternity; but Jesus was crucified thesame day on which He was condemned. There was a merciful law of Romein existence at the time, ordaining that ten days should intervenebetween the passing of a capital sentence and its execution; but eitherthis was not intended for use in the provinces or Jesus was judged tobe outside the scope of its mercy, because He had made Himself a king. At all events He was hurried straight from the judgment-seat to theplace of execution, without opportunity for preparation or farewells. Of course the sentence was carried out by the soldiers of Pilate. St. John, indeed, speaks as if Pilate had simply surrendered Him into thehands of the Jews, and they had seen to the execution. But this onlymeans that the moral responsibility was theirs. They did everything intheir power to identify themselves with the deed. So intent were theyon the death of Jesus, that they could not leave the work to the properparties, but followed the executioners and superintended theiroperations. The actual work, however, was performed by the hands ofRoman soldiers with a centurion at their head. In this country executions are now carried out in private, inside thewalls of the prison in which the criminal has been confined. Not manyyears ago, however, they took place in public; and not many generationsago the procession of death made a tour of the public streets, that thecondemned man might come under the observation and maledictions of asmany of the public as possible. This also was the manner of Christ'sdeath. Both among the Jews and the Romans executions took placeoutside the gate of the city. The traditional scene of Christ's death, over which the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is built, is inside thepresent walls, but those who believe in its authenticity maintain thatit was outside the wall of that date. This, however, is extremelydoubtful; and, indeed, it is quite uncertain outside which gate of thecity the execution took place. The name Calvary or Golgotha probablyindicates that the spot was a skull-like knoll; but there is no reasonto think that it was a hill of the size supposed by designating itMount Calvary. Indeed, there is no hill near any gate corresponding tothe image in the popular imagination. In modern Jerusalem there is astreet pointed out as the veritable _Via Dolorosa_ along which theprocession passed; but this also is more than doubtful. Like ancientRome, ancient Jerusalem is buried beneath the rubbish of centuries. [1]From the scene of the trial to the supposed site of the execution isnearly a mile. And it is quite possible that Jesus may have had totravel as far or farther, while an ever-increasing multitude ofspectators gathered round the advancing procession. One special indignity connected with the punishment of crucifixion wasthat the condemned man had to carry on his back through the streets thecross upon which he was about to suffer. In pictures the cross ofJesus is generally represented as a lofty structure, such as a numberof men would have been needed to carry; but the reality was somethingtotally different: it was not much above the height of a man, [2] andthere was just enough of wood to support the body. But the weight wasconsiderable, and to carry it on the back which had been torn withscourging must have been excessively painful. Another source of intense pain was the crown of thorns, if, indeed, Hestill wore it. We are told that before the procession set out towardsGolgotha the robes of mockery were taken off and His own garments puton; but it is not said that the crown of thorns was removed. Most cruel of all, however, was the shame. There was a kind of savageirony in making the man carry the implement on which he was to suffer;and, in point of fact, throughout classical literature this mode ofpunishment is a constant theme of savage banter and derision. [3] There is evidence that the imagination of Jesus had occupied itselfspecially beforehand with this portion of His sufferings. Long beforethe end He had predicted the kind of death He should die; but evenbefore these predictions had commenced He had described the sacrificeswhich would have to be made by those who became His disciples ascross-bearing--as if this were the last extreme of suffering andindignity. Did He so call it simply because His knowledge of the worldinformed Him of this as one of the greatest indignities of human life?or was it the foreknowledge that He Himself was to be one day in thisposition which coloured His language? We can hardly doubt that thelatter was the case. And now the hour on which His imagination haddwelt was come, and in weakness and helplessness He had to bear thecross in the sight of thousands who regarded Him with scorn. To anoble spirit there is no trial more severe than shame--to be the objectof cruel mirth and insolent triumph. Jesus had the lofty and refinedself-consciousness of one who never once had needed to cringe or stoop. He loved and honoured men too much not to wish to be loved and honouredby them; He had enjoyed days of unbounded popularity, but now His soulwas filled with reproach to the uttermost; and He could haveappropriated the words of the Psalm, "I am a worm and no man; areproach of men and despised of the people. " The reproach of Christ is all turned into glory now; and it is verydifficult to realise how abject the reality was. Nothing perhapsbrings this out so well as the fact that two robbers were sent away tobe executed with Him. This has been regarded as a special insultoffered to the Jews by Pilate, who wished to show how contemptuously hecould treat One whom he affected to believe their king. But morelikely it is an indication of how little more Christ was to the Romanofficials than any one of the prisoners whom they put through theirhands day by day. Pilate, no doubt, had been interested and puzzledmore than usual; but, after all, Jesus was only one of many; Hisexecution could be made part of the same job with that of the otherprisoners on hand. And so the three, bearing their crosses, issuedfrom the gates of the palace together and took the Dolorous Way. II. Though He bore His own cross out of the palace of Pilate, He was notable to carry it far. Either He sank beneath it on the road or He wasproceeding with such slow and faltering steps that the soldiers, impatient of the delay, recognised that the burden must be removed fromHis shoulders. The severity of the scourging was in itself sufficientto account for this breakdown; but, besides, we are to consider thesleepless night through which He had passed, with its anxiety andabuse; and before it there had been the agony of Gethsemane. No wonderHis exhaustion had reached a point at which it was absolutelyimpossible for Him to proceed farther with such a burden. One or two of the soldiers might have relieved Him; but, in the spiritof horseplay and mischief which had characterised their part of theproceedings from the moment when Christ fell into their hands, they layhold of a casual passer-by and requisitioned his services for thepurpose. He was coming in from the region beyond the gate as they weregoing out, and they acted under the sanction of military law or custom. To the man it must have been an extreme annoyance and indignity. Doubtless he was bent on business of his own, which had to be deferred. His family or his friends might be waiting for him, but he was turnedthe opposite way. To touch the instrument of death was as revolting tohim as it would be to us to handle the hangman's rope; perhaps more so, because it was Passover time, and this would make him ceremoniallyunclean. It was a jest of the soldiers, and he was theirlaughing-stock. As he walked by the side of the robbers, it looked asif he were on the way to execution himself. This is a lively image of the cross-bearing to which the followers ofChrist are called. We are wont to speak of trouble of any kind as across; and doubtless any kind of trouble may be borne bravely in thename of Christ. But, properly speaking, the cross of Christ is what isborne in the act of confessing Him or for the sake of His work. Whenanyone makes a stand for principle, because he is a Christian, andtakes the consequences in the shape of scorn or loss, this is the crossof Christ. The pain you may feel in speaking to another in Christ'sname, the sacrifice of comfort or time you may make in engaging inChristian work, the self-denial you exercise in giving of your meansthat the cause of Christ may spread at home or abroad, the reproach youmay have to bear by identifying yourself with militant causes or withdespised persons, because you believe they are on Christ's side--insuch conduct lies the cross of Christ. It involves trouble, discomfortand sacrifice. One may fret under it, as Simon did; one may sink underit, as Jesus did Himself; it is ugly, painful, shameful often; but nodisciple is without it. Our Master said, "He that taketh not his crossand followeth after Me is not worthy of Me. " III. The one thing which makes Simon an imperfect type of the cross-beareris that we are uncertain whether or not he bore the burden voluntarily. The Roman soldiers forced it on him; but was it force-work and nothingelse? Some have supposed that he was an adherent of Christ; but it isextremely improbable that, just at the moment when the soldiers neededsomeone for their purpose, one of the very few followers of Jesusshould have appeared. The tone of the narrative seems rather toindicate that he was one who happened to be there by mere chance andhad nothing to do with the proceedings till, against his will, he wasmade an actor in the drama. He is said by the Evangelist to have been a Cyrenian, that is, aninhabitant of Cyrene, a city in North Africa. Strangers from thisplace are mentioned among those who were present soon after at theFeast of Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit descended on the Church intongues of fire. And the probability is that Simon had, in a similarway, come from his distant home to the Passover. [4] He had come on pilgrimage. Perhaps he was a devout soul, waiting forthe consolation of Israel. In far Cyrene he may have been praying forthe coming of the Messiah and, before setting out on this journey, pleading for a season of unusual blessing. God had heard and was goingto answer his prayers, but in a way totally different from hisexpectations. For apparently this _rencontre_ issued in his salvation and in thesalvation of his house. The Evangelist calls him familiarly "thefather of Alexander and Rufus. " Evidently the two sons were well knownto those for whom St. Mark was writing; that is, they were members ofthe Christian circle. And there can be little doubt that theconnection of his family with the Church was the result of thisincident in the father's life. St. Mark wrote his Gospel for theChristians of Rome; and in the Epistle to the Romans one Rufus ismentioned as resident there along with his mother. This may be one ofthe sons of Simon. And in Acts xiii. 1 one Simeon--the same name asSimon--is mentioned along with a Lucius of Cyrene as a conspicuousChristian at Antioch: he is called Niger, or Black, a name notsurprising for one who had been tanned by the hot sun of Africa. Thereare Alexanders mentioned elsewhere in the New Testament; but the namewas common, and there is not much probability that any of them is to beidentified with Simon's son. Still putting the details aside, we havesufficiently clear indications that in consequence of this incidentSimon became a Christian. Is it not a significant fact, proving that nothing happens by chance?Had Simon entered the city one hour sooner, or one hour later, hisafter history might have been entirely different. On the smallestcircumstances the greatest results may hinge. A chance meeting maydetermine the weal or woe of a life. Doubtless to Simon this encounterseemed at the moment the most unfortunate incident that could havebefallen him--an interruption, an annoyance and a humiliation; yet itturned out to be the gateway of life. Thus do blessings sometimes comein disguise, and out of an apparition, at the sight of which we cry outfor fear, may suddenly issue the form of the Son of Man. But it wasnot Simon's own salvation only that was involved in this singularexperience, but that of his family as well. How much may follow whenChrist is revealed to any human soul! The salvation of those yetunborn may be involved in it--of children and children's children. But think how blessed to Simon would appear in after days thecross-bearing which was at the time so bitter! No doubt it became theromance of his life. And to this day who can help envying him forbeing allowed to give his strength to the fainting Saviour and toremove the burden from that bleeding and smarting back? So for all menthere is a day coming when any service they have done to Christ will bethe memory of which they will be most proud. It will not be therecollection of the prizes we have won, the pleasures we have enjoyed, the discomforts we have escaped, that will come back to us with delightas we review life from its close; but, if we have denied ourselves andborne the cross for Christ's sake, the memory of that will be a pillowsoft and satisfying for a dying head. In that day we shall wish thatthe minutes given to Christ's service had been years, and the pencepounds; and every cup of cold water and every word of sympathy andevery act of self denial will be so pleasant to remember that we shallwish they had been multiplied a thousandfold. [1] Interesting details in Ross's _Cradle of Christianity_. [2] A soldier was able to reach up to the lips of Christ on the crosswith a sponge on a reed. [3] See Horace, S. Ii. 7, 47; E. I. 16, 48. [4] Many Jews, indeed, who had once been inhabitants of Cyrene lived inJerusalem--old people, probably, who had come to lay their bones inholy ground; for we learn from an incidental notice in the Acts thatthey had a synagogue of their own in the city; and Simon may have beenone of these. But the other is the more likely case. CHAPTER XI. THE DAUGHTERS OF JERUSALEM There are many legends clustering round this portion of our Lord'shistory. It is narrated, for example, that, when the divine Sufferer, burdenedwith the cross, was creeping along feebly and slowly, He leaned againstthe door of a house which stood in the way, when the occupier, strikinga blow, commanded Him to hurry on; to which the Lord, turning to Hisassailant, replied, "Thou shall go on and never stop till I comeagain;" and to this day, unable to find either rest or death, themiserable man still posts over the earth, and shall continue doing sountil the Lord's return. This is the legend of the Wandering Jew, which assumed many forms in the lore of other days and still plays asomewhat prominent part in literature. It is, I suppose, a fantasticrepresentation, in the person of an individual, of the tragic fate ofthe Jewish race, which, since the day when it laid violent hands on theSon of God, has had no rest for the sole of its foot. To another story of the _Via Dolorosa_ as distinguished a place hasbeen given in art as to the legend of the Wandering Jew in literature. Veronica, a lady in Jerusalem, seeing Christ, as He passed by, sinkingbeneath His burden, came out of her house and with a towel washed awaythe blood and perspiration from His face. And lo! when she examinedthe napkin with which the charitable act had been performed, it bore aperfect likeness of the Man of Sorrows. Some of the greatest paintershave reproduced this scene, and it may be understood as teaching thelesson that even the commonest things in life, when employed in acts ofmercy, are stamped with the image and superscription of Christ. In Roman Catholic churches there may generally be seen round the wallsa series of about a dozen pictures, taken from this part of our Lord'slife. They are denominated the Stations of the Cross, because theworshippers, going round, stop to look and meditate on the differentscenes. In Catholic countries the same idea is sometimes carried outon a more imposing scale. On a knoll or hill in the neighbourhood of atown three lofty crosses stand; the road to them through the town iscalled _Via Calvarii_, and at intervals along the way the scenes of ourLord's sad journey are represented by large frescoes or bas-reliefs. But we really know for certain of only two incidents of the _ViaDolorosa_--that in which our Lord was relieved of His cross by Simonthe Cyrenian and that, which we are now to consider, of the sympatheticdaughters of Jerusalem. I. The reader of the history of our Lord in its last stages is sated withhorrors. In some of the scenes through which we have recentlyaccompanied Him we have seemed to be among demons rather than men. Themind longs for something to relieve the monstrous spectacles of fanatichate and cold-blooded cruelty. Hence this scene is most welcome, inwhich a blink of sunshine falls on the path of woe, and we are assuredthat we need not lose faith in the human heart. It was, indeed, a surprising demonstration. It would hardly have beencredited, had it not there been made manifest, that Jesus had so stronga hold upon any section of the population of Jerusalem. In the capitalHe had always found the soil very unreceptive. Jerusalem was theheadquarters of rabbinic learning and priestly arrogance--the home ofthe Pharisee and the Sadducee, who guided public opinion; and there, from first to last, He had made few adherents. It was in theprovinces, especially in Galilee, that He had been the idol of thepopulace. It was by the Galilean pilgrims to the Passover that He wasconvoyed into the capital with shouts of Hosanna; but the inhabitantsof the city stood coldly aloof, and before Pilate's judgment-seat theycried out, "Crucify Him, crucify Him!" Yet now it turns out that He has touched the heart of one section atleast even of this community: "There followed Him a great company ofpeople and of women, which[1] also bewailed and lamented Him. " Somehave considered this so extraordinary that they have held these womento be Galileans; but Jesus addressed them as "daughters of Jerusalem. "The Galilean men who had surrounded Him in His hour of triumph put inno appearance now in His hour of despair; but the women of Jerusalembroke away from the example of the men and paid the tribute of tears toHis youth, character and sufferings. It is said that there was aJewish law forbidding the showing of any sympathy to a condemned man;but, if so, this demonstration was all the more creditable to those whotook part in it. The upwelling of their emotion was too sincere to bedammed back by barriers of law and custom. It is said there is no instance in the Gospels of a woman being anenemy of Jesus. No woman deserted or betrayed, persecuted or opposedHim. But women followed Him, they ministered to Him of theirsubstance, they washed His feet with tears, they anointed His head withspikenard; and now, when their husbands and brothers were hounding Himto death, they accompanied Him with weeping and wailing to the scene ofmartyrdom. [2] It is a great testimony to the character of Christ on the one hand andto that of woman on the other. Woman's instinct told her, howeverdimly she at first apprehended the truth, that this was the Delivererfor her. Because, while Christ is the Saviour of all, He has beenspecially the Saviour of woman. At His advent, her degradation beingfar deeper than that of men, she needed Him more; and, wherever Hisgospel has travelled since then, it has been the signal for heremancipation and redemption. His presence evokes all the tender andbeautiful qualities which are latent in her nature; and under Hisinfluence her character experiences a transfiguration. [3] It has, indeed, been contended that there was no great depth in theemotion of the daughters of Jerusalem; and we need not deny the fact. Their emotion was no outburst of faith and repentance, carrying with itrevolutionary effects, as tears may sometimes be. It was an overflowof natural feeling, such as might have been caused by any patheticinstance of misfortune. It was not unlike the tears which may be stillmade to flow from the eyes of the tender-hearted by a moving account ofthe sufferings of Christ; and we know that such emotions are sometimesfar from lasting. Our nature consists of several strata, of whichemotion is the most superficial; and it is not enough that religionshould operate in this uppermost region; it must be thrust down, through emotion, into the deeper regions, such as the conscience andthe will, and catch hold and kindle there, before it can achieve themastery of the entire being. But this response of womanhood to Christ was a beginning; and thereinlay its significance. It was to Him a foretaste of the splendiddevotion which He was yet to receive from the womanhood of the world. It was as welcome to Him in that hour of desertion and reproach as isthe sight of a tuft of grass to the thirsty traveller in the desert. The sounds of sympathy flowed over His soul as gratefully as the giftof Mary's love enveloped His senses when the house was filled with theodour of the ointment. Thus in the _Via Dolorosa_ Jesus experienced two alleviations of Hissuffering: the strength of a man relieved His body of the burden of thecross, and the pain of His soul was cooled by the sympathy of women. Is it not a parable--a parable of what men and women can do for Himstill? Christ needs the strength of men--the strong arm, the vigoroushand, the shoulders that can bear the burden of His cause; He seeksfrom men the mind whose originality can plan what needs to be done, theresolute will that pushes the work on in spite of opposition, theliberal hand that gives ungrudgingly what is required for the progressand success of the Christian enterprise. From women he seeks sympathyand tears. They can give the sensibility which keeps the heart of theworld from hardening; the secret knowledge which finds out the objectsof Christian compassion and wins their confidence; the enthusiasm whichburns like a fire at the heart of religious work. The influence ofwomen is subtle and remote; but it is on this account all the morepowerful; for they sit at the very fountains, where the river of humanlife is springing, and where a touch may determine its entiresubsequent course. II. It has been allowed to condemned men in all ages to speak to the crowdsassembled to witness their death. The dying speech used in thiscountry to be a regular feature of executions. Even in ages ofpersecution the martyrs were usually allowed, as they ascended theladder, to address the multitude; and these testimonies, some of whichwere of singular power and beauty, were treasured by the religioussection of the community. It is nothing surprising, therefore, thatJesus should have addressed those who followed Him or should have beenpermitted to do so. No doubt He was at the last point of exhaustion, but, when He was relieved of the weight of the cross, He was able torally strength sufficient for this effort. Pausing in the road andturning to the women, whose weeping and wailing were filling His ears, He addressed Himself to them. His words are, in the first place, a revelation of Himself. They showwhat was demonstrated again and again during the crucifixion--howcompletely He could forget His own sufferings in care and anxiety forothers. His sufferings had already been extreme; His soul had beenfilled with injustice and insult; at this very moment His body wasquivering with pain and His mind darkened with the approach of stillmore atrocious agonies. Yet, when He heard behind Him the sobs of thedaughters of Jerusalem, there rushed over His soul a wave of compassionin which for the moment His own troubles were submerged. We see in His words, too, the depth and fervour of His patriotism. When He saw the tears of the women, the spectacle raised in His mind animage of the doom impending over the city whose daughters they were. Jerusalem, as has been already said, had always been extremelyunresponsive to Him; she had played to Him an unmotherly part. Nonethe less, however, did He feel for her the love of a loyal son. He hadshown this a few days before, when, in the midst of His triumph, Hepaused on the brow of Olivet, where the city came into view, and burstinto a flood of tears, accompanied with such a lyric cry of affectionas has never been addressed to any other city on earth. Subsequently, sitting with His disciples over against the temple, He showed how wellHe foreknew the terrible fate which hung over the capital of Hiscountry, and how poignantly He felt it. The city's doom was nigh athand: less than half a century distant: and it was to be unparalleledin its horror. The secular historian of it, himself a Jew, says in hisnarrative: "There has never been a race on earth, and there never willbe one, whose sufferings can be matched with those of Jerusalem in thedays of the siege. " It was the foresight of this which made Jesus nowsay, "Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for Me, but weep for yourselvesand for your children. " His words, still further, reveal His consideration for women andchildren. The tears of the women displayed an appreciation andsympathy for Him such as the men were incapable of; but well did Hedeserve them, for His words show that He had a comprehension of womenand a sympathy with them such as had never before existed in the world. With the force of the imagination and the heart He realised how, in theapproaching siege, the heaviest end of the misery would fall on thefemale portion of the population, and how the mothers would be woundedthrough their children. In that country, where children were regardedas the crown and glory of womanhood, the currents of nature would be socompletely reversed by the madness of hunger and pain that barrennesswould be esteemed fortunate; and in a country where length of days hadbeen considered the supreme blessing of life they would long and cryfor sudden and early death. So it actually turned out. An outstanding feature of the siege ofJerusalem, according to the secular historian, was the suffering of thewomen and children. Besides using every other device of warfare, theRomans deliberately resorted to starvation, and the inhabitants enduredthe uttermost extremities of hunger. So frenzied did the men become atlast that every extra mouth requiring to be filled became an object ofdelirious suspicion, and the last morsels were snatched from the lipsof the women and children. One is tempted to quote some of the storiesof Josephus about this, but they are so awful that it would be scarcelydecent to repeat them. This was what the quick sympathy of Jesus enabled Him to divine; andHis compassion gushed forth towards those who were to be the chiefsufferers. Women and children--how irreverently they have been thoughtof, how callously and brutally treated, since history began! Yet theyare always the majority of the human race. Praise be to Him who liftedthem, and is still lifting them, out of the dust of degradation andill-usage, and who put in on their behalf the plea of justice and mercy! Finally, there was in the words addressed to the daughters of Jerusaleman exhortation to repentance. When Jesus said, "Weep for yourselvesand for your children, " He was referring not merely to the approachingcalamities of the city, but to its guilt. This was indicated mostclearly in the closing words of His address to them--"For if they dothese things in a green tree, what shall be done in the dry?" He could speak of Himself as a green tree. He was young and He wasinnocent; to this the tears of the women testified; there was no reasonwhy He should die; yet God permitted all these things to happen to Him. The Jewish nation ought also to have been a green tree. God hadplanted and tended it; it had enjoyed every advantage; but, when Hecame seeking fruit on it, He found none. It was withered; the sap ofvirtue and godliness had gone out of it; it was dry and ready for theburning; and, when the enemy came to apply the firebrand, why shouldGod interpose? Thus did Jesus attempt once more to awaken repentance. He wished to thrust the impressions of the daughters of Jerusalem downfrom the region of feeling into a deeper place. They had given Himtears of emotion; He desired, besides these, tears of contrition; forin religion nothing is accomplished till impression touches theconscience. Whether any of them responded in earnest we cannot tell. Not many, itis to be feared. Nor can we tell whether by repentance the destructionof the Jewish state might still have been averted. At all events, thefire of invasion soon fell on the dry tree, and it was burnt up. Andsince then those who would not weep for their sins before the stroke ofpunishment fell have had to weep without ceasing. Visitors toJerusalem at the present day are conducted to a spot called the Placeof Wailing, where every Friday representatives of the race weep for thedestruction of their city and temple. [4] This has gone on forcenturies; and it is only a symbol of the cup of astonishment, filledto the brim, which has during many centuries been held to the lips ofIsrael. Sin must be wept for some time--if not before punishment hasfallen, then after; if not in time, then in eternity. This is a lessonfor all. And has not that final word of Jesus a meaning for us evenmore solemn than it had for those to whom it was first addressed--"Ifthese things be done in a green tree, what shall be done in the dry?"If woe and anguish fell, as they did, even on the Son of God, when Hewas bearing the sins of the world, what will be the portion of thosewho have to bear their own? [1] The participle refers to the women alone. [2] "How slow we have been to ask our _sister_ members to helpus!--although we read of deaconesses in the early Church, and althoughwe do not read of a single woman who was unkind and unfaithful to theSaviour while here upon earth. Men were diabolic in their cruelty toHim, but never did a woman betray Him, mock Him, desert Him, nor spitin His face. Many of them cheered Him on His way to the Cross, washingHis feet with tears before men pierced them with nails, anointing Hishead with precious perfume in anticipation of the thorns with which mencrowned Him. They wept with Him on the way to Calvary, and were trueto Him to the very end. And are they not devoted and true to Himstill? Why, then, have we been so long in calling for theirservices?"--E. HERBERT EVANS, D. D. [3] Brace, _Gesta Christi_. [4] Striking description in Baring-Gould, _The Passion of Jesus_, p. 75. CHAPTER XII. CALVARY Anyone writing on the life of our Lord must many a time pause in secretand exclaim to himself, "It is high as heaven, what canst thou do?deeper than hell, what canst thou know?" But we have now arrived atthe point where this sense of inadequacy falls most oppressively on theheart. To-day we are to see Christ crucified. But who is worthy tolook at this sight? Who is able to speak of it? "Such knowledge istoo wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain unto it. " In thepresence of such a subject one feels one's mind to be like some tinycreature at the bottom of the sea--as incapable of comprehending it allas is the crustacean of scooping up the Atlantic in its shell. This spot to which we have come is the centre of all things. Here twoeternities meet. The streams of ancient history converge here, andhere the river of modern history takes its rise. The eyes ofpatriarchs and prophets strained forward to Calvary, and now the eyesof all generations and of all races look back to it. This is the endof all roads. The seeker after truth, who has explored the realms ofknowledge, comes to Calvary and finds at last that he has reached thecentre. The weary heart of man, that has wandered the world over insearch of perfect sympathy and love, at last arrives here and findsrest. Think how many souls every Lord's Day, assembled in church andchapel and meeting-house, are thinking of Golgotha! how many eyes areturned thither every day from beds of sickness and chambers of death!"Lord, to whom can we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life. " Though, therefore, the theme is too high for us, yet we will ventureforward. It is too high for human thought; yet nowhere else is themind so exalted and ennobled. At Calvary poets have sung theirsweetest strains, and artists seen their sublimest visions, andthinkers excogitated their noblest ideas. The crustacean lies at thebottom of the ocean, and the world of waters rolls above it; it cannotin its tiny shell comprehend these leagues upon leagues of solidtranslucent vastness; and yet the ocean fills its shell and causes itslittle body to throb with perfect happiness. And so, though we cannottake in all the meaning of the scene before which we stand, yet we canfill mind and heart with it to the brim, and, as it sends through ourbeing the pulsations of a life divine, rejoice that it has a breadthand length, a height and depth, which pass understanding. I. The long journey through the streets to the place of execution was atlength ended, and thereby the weary journeyings of the Sufferer came toa close. The soldiers set about their preparations for the last act. But meanwhile a little incident occurred which the behaviour of Jesusfilled with significance. The wealthy ladies of Jerusalem had the practice of providing for thosecondemned to the awful punishment of crucifixion a soporific draught, composed of wine mixed with some narcotic like gall or myrrh, [1] todull the senses and deaden the pain. It was a benevolent custom; andthe cup was offered to all criminals, irrespective of their crimes. Itwas administered immediately before the frightful work of nailing theculprit to the tree commenced. This draught was handed to Jesus on Hisarrival at Golgotha. Exhausted with fatigue and burning with thirst, He grasped the cup eagerly and lifted it without suspicion to His lips. But, as soon as He tasted it and felt the fumes of the stupefyingingredient, He laid it down and would not drink. It was a simple act, yet full of heroism. He was in that extremity ofthirst when a person will drink almost anything; and He was face toface with outrageous torture. In subsequent times many of His ownfaithful martyrs, on their way to execution, gladly availed themselvesof this merciful provision. But He would not allow His intellect to beclouded. His obedience was not yet complete; His plan was not fullywrought out; He would keep His taste for death pure. I have heard of awoman dying of a frightful malady, who, when she was pressed by thosewitnessing her agony to take an intoxicating draught, refused, saying, "No, I want to die sober. " She had caught, I think, the spirit ofChrist. This is a very strange place in which to alight on the problem of theuse and abuse of those products of nature or art which induceintoxication or stupefaction. Roots or juices with such propertieshave been known to nearly all races, the savage as well as thecivilised; and they have played a great part in the life of mankind. Their history is one of the most curious. They are associated with themysteries of false religions and with the phenomena of heathen prophecyand witchcraft; acting on the mind through the senses, they open up init a region of mystery, horror and gloomy magnificence of which thenormal man is unconscious. They have always been a favourite resourceof the medical art, and in modern times, in such forms as opium andother better-known intoxicants, they have created some of the gravestmoral problems. On the wide question of the use of such substances as stimulants weneed not at present enter; it is to their use for the opposite purposeof lowering consciousness that this incident draws attention. That insome cases this use is both merciful and permissible will not bedenied. The discovery in our own day, by one of our own countrymen, ofthe use of chloroform is justly regarded as among the greatest benefitsever conferred on the human race. When the unconsciousness thusproduced enables the surgeon to perform an operation which might not bepossible at all without it, or when in the crisis of a fever the sleepinduced by a narcotic gives the exhausted system power to continue thecombat and saves the life, we can only be thankful that the science ofto-day has such resources in its treasury. On the other hand, however, there are grave offsets to theseadvantages. Millions of men and women resort to such substances inorder to dull the nerves and cloud the brain during pain and sorrowwhich God intended them to face and bear with sober courage, as Jesusendured His on the cross. On the medical profession rests theresponsibility of so using the power placed in their hands as not todestroy the dignity of the most solemn passages of life. [2] It willfor ever remain true that pain and trial are the discipline of thesoul; but to reel through these crises in the drowsy forgetfulness ofintoxication is to miss the best chances of moral and spiritualdevelopment. Men and women are made perfect through suffering; butthat suffering may do its work it must be felt. There is no greatermisfortune than to bear too easily the strokes of God. A bereavement, for example, is sent to sanctify a home; but it may fail of its missionbecause the household is too busy, or because too many are coming andgoing, or because tongues, mistakenly kind and garrulous, chatter God'smessenger out of doors. It is natural that physicians and kind friendsshould try to make sufferers forget their grief. But they may be toosuccessful. Though the practice of the ladies of Jerusalem was abenevolent one, the gift mixed by their charitable hands appeared toour Lord a cup of temptation, and He resolutely put it aside. II All was now ready for the last act, and the soldiers started theirghastly work. It is not my intention to harrow up the feelings of my readers withminute descriptions of the horrors of crucifixion. [3] Nothing would beeasier, for it was an unspeakably awful form of death. Cicero, who waswell acquainted with it, says: "It was the most cruel and shameful ofall punishments. " "Let it never, " he adds, "come near the body of aRoman citizen; nay, not even near his thoughts or eyes or ears. " Itwas the punishment reserved for slaves and for revolutionaries, whoseend was intended to be marked by special infamy. The cross was most probably of the form in which it is usuallyrepresented--an upright post crossed by a bar near the top. There wereother two forms--that of the letter T and that of the letter X--but, asthe accusation of Jesus is said to have been put up over His head, there must have been a projection above the bar on which His arms wereoutstretched. The arms were probably bound to the cross-beam, aswithout this the hands would have been torn through by the weight. Andfor a similar reason there was a piece of wood projecting from themiddle of the upright beam, on which the body sat. The feet wereeither nailed separately or crossed the one over the other, with a nailthrough both. It is doubtful whether the body was affixed before orafter the cross was elevated and planted in the ground. The head hungfree, so that the dying man could both see and speak to those about thecross. In modern executions the greatest pains are taken to make death asnearly as possible instantaneous, and any bungling which prolongs theagony excites indignation and horror in the public mind. But the mostrevolting feature of death by crucifixion was that the torture wasdeliberately prolonged. The victim usually lingered a whole day, sometimes two or three days, still retaining consciousness; while theburning of the wounds in the hands and feet, the uneasiness of theunnatural position, the oppression of overcharged veins and, above all, the intolerable thirst were constantly increasing. Jesus did notsuffer so long; but He lingered for four or five hours. I will not, however, proceed further in describing the sickeningdetails. How far all these horrors may have been essential elements inHis sufferings it would be difficult to say. Apart from the propheciesgoing before which had to be fulfilled, was it a matter of indifferencewhat death He died? Would it have served equally well if He had beenhanged or beheaded or stoned? We cannot tell. Only, when we know thesecret of what His soul suffered, we can discern the fitness of thechoice of the most shameful and painful of all forms of death for Hisbody. [4] The true sufferings of Christ were not physical, but internal. Lookingon that Face, we see the shadow of a deeper woe than smarting woundsand raging thirst and a racking frame--the woe of slighted love, of aheart longing for fellowship but overwhelmed with hatred; the woe ofinsult and wrong, and of unspeakable sorrow for the fate of those whowould not be saved. Nor is even this the deepest shadow. There wasthen in the heart of the Redeemer a woe to which no human words areadequate. He was dying for the sin of the world. He had taken onHimself the guilt of mankind, and was now engaged in the final struggleto put it away and annihilate it. On the cross was hanging not onlythe body of flesh and blood of the Man Christ Jesus, but at the sametime His mystical body--that body of which He is the head and Hispeople are the members. Through this body also the nails were driven, and on it death took its revenge. His people died with Him unto sin, that they might live for evermore. This is the mystery, but it is also the glory of the scene. Till Hehung on it, the cross was the symbol of slavery and vulgar wickedness;but He converted it into the symbol of heroism, self-sacrifice andsalvation. It was only a wretched framework of coarse andblood-clotted beams, which it was a shame to touch; but since then theworld has gloried in it; it has been carved in every form of beauty andevery substance of price; it has been emblazoned on the flags ofnations and engraved on the sceptres and diadems of kings. [5] Thecross was planted on Golgotha a dry, dead tree; but lo! it hasblossomed like Aaron's rod; it has struck its roots deep down to theheart of the world, and sent its branches upwards, till to-day it fillsthe earth, and the nations rest beneath its shadow and eat of itspleasant fruits. [6] III. At length the ghastly preparations were completed; and in the greedyeyes of Jewish hatred the Saviour, whom they had hunted to death withthe ferocity of bloodhounds, was exposed to full view. But the firsttriumphant glance of priests, Pharisees and populace met with a violentcheck; for above the Victim's head they saw something which cut them tothe heart. The practice of affixing to the apparatus of execution a description ofthe crime prevails in some countries to this day. In the Life ofGilmour of Mongolia there is a description of an execution which hewitnessed in China; and in the cart which conveyed the condemned man tothe scene of death a board was exhibited describing his misdeeds. Thecustom was a Roman one; and, besides, there was generally an officialwho walked in front of the procession of death and proclaimed thecrimes of the condemned. No mention, however, of such a functionaryappears in the Gospels; nor does the inscription appear to have beenvisible to all till it was affixed to the cross. It was fastened tothe top of the upright beam; and Pilate made use of this opportunity topay out the Jews for the annoyance they had caused him. He had partedfrom them in anger, for they had humiliated him; but he sent after themthat which should be a drop of bitterness in their cup of triumph. When they were still at his judgment-seat, his last blow in hisencounter with them had been to pretend to be convinced that Jesusreally was their king. This insult he now prolonged by wording theinscription thus: "This is Jesus, the King of the Jews. " It was asmuch as to say, This is what becomes of a Jewish king; this is what theRomans do with him; the king of this nation is a slave, a crucifiedcriminal; and, if such be the king, what must the nation be whose kinghe is? So enraged were the Jews that they sent a deputation to the governor toentreat him to alter the words. No doubt he was delighted to see them;for their coming proved how thoroughly his sarcasm had gone home. Heonly laughed at their petition and, assuming the grand air of authoritywhich became no man so well as a Roman, dismissed them with the words, "What I have written I have written. " This looked like strength of will and character; but it was in realityonly a covering for weakness. He had his will about the inscription--atrifle; but they had their will about the crucifixion. He was strongenough to browbeat them, but he was not strong enough to deny himself. Yet, though the inscription of Pilate was in his own mind little morethan a revengeful jest, there was in it a Divine purpose. "What I havewritten I have written, " he said; but, had he known, he might almosthave said, "What I have written God has written. " Sometimes and atsome places the atmosphere is so charged and electric with the Divinethat inspiration alights and burns on everything; and never was thismore true than at the cross. Pilate had already unconsciously beenalmost a prophet when, pointing to Jesus, he said, "Behold the Man"--aword which still preaches to the centuries. And now, after being aspeaking prophet, he becomes, as has been quaintly remarked, a writingone too; for his pen was guided by a supernatural hand to indite thewords, "This is Jesus, the King of the Jews. " It added greatly to the significance of the inscription that it waswritten in Hebrew and Greek and Latin. What Pilate intended therebywas to heighten the insult; he wished all the strangers present at thePassover to be able to read the inscription; for all of them who couldread at all would know one of these three languages. But Providenceintended something else. These are the three great languages of theancient world--the representative languages. Hebrew is the tongue ofreligion, Greek that of culture, Latin the language of law andgovernment; and Christ was declared King in them all. On His head aremany crowns. He is King in the religious sphere--the King ofsalvation, holiness and love; He is King in the realm of culture--thetreasures of art, of song, of literature, of philosophy belong to Him, and shall yet be all poured at His feet; He is King in the politicalsphere--King of kings and Lord of lords, entitled to rule in the socialrelationships, in trade and commerce, in all the activities of men. Wesee not yet, indeed, all things put under Him; but every day we seethem more and more in the process of being put under Him. The name ofJesus is travelling everywhere over the earth; thousands are learningto pronounce it; millions are ready to die for it. And thus is theunconscious prophecy of Pilate still being fulfilled. [1] One Evangelist says gall, another myrrh, and on this differenceharmonists and their antagonists have spent their time; but surely itis not worth while. [2] The distinction between the legitimate and the illegitimate use isnot very easy to draw; but there is an obvious difference betweendestroying pain for an ulterior purpose and destroying it merely tosave the feeling of the sufferer. [3] On the details of crucifixion there is an extremely interesting andlearned excursus in Zöckler's _Das Kreus Christi_ (Beilage III. ). Cicero's Verrine Orations contain a good deal that is valuable to astudent of the Passion, especially in regard to scourging andcrucifixion. Crucifixion was an extremely common form of punishment inthe ancient world; but "the cross of the God-Man has put an end to thepunishment of the crow. " [4] Zöckler maintains that crucifixion, while the most shameful, wasnot absolutely the most painful form of death. [5] The appreciation of the significance of the Cross has gone on intwo lines--the Artistic and the Doctrinal--both of which arc followedout with varied learning in Zöckler's _Kreus Christi_. The English reader may with great satisfaction trace the artisticdevelopment in Mrs. Jameson's _History of our Lord as exemplified inWorks of Art_, where the following scheme is given of the varieties oftreatment:-- "_Symbolical_, when the abstract personifications of the sun and moon, earth and ocean, are present. "_Sacrificially symbolical_, when the Eucharistic cup is seen below theCross, or the pelican feeding her young is placed above it. "_Simply doctrinal_, when the Virgin and St. John stand on each side, as solemn witnesses; or our Lord is drinking the cup, sometimesliterally so represented, given Him of the Father, while the lanceopens the sacramental font. "_Historically ideal_, as when the thieves are joined to the scene, andsorrowing angels throng the air. "_Historically devotional_, as when the real features of the scene arepreserved, and saints and devotees are introduced. "_Legendary_, as when we see the Virgin fainting. "_Allegorical and fantastic_, as when the tree is made the principalobject, with its branches terminating in patriarchs and prophets, virtues and graces. "_Realistic_, as when the mere event is rendered as through the eyes ofan unenlightened looker-on. "These and many other modes of conception account for the greatdiversity in the treatment of this subject; a further variety beinggiven by the combination of two or more of these modes of treatmenttogether; for instance, the pelican may be seen above the Cross givingher life's blood for her offspring; angels in attitudes of despair, bewailing the Second Person of the Trinity; or, in an ideal sacramentalsense, catching the blood from His wounds--the Jews below looking on, as they really did, with contemptuous gestures and hardened hearts; thecenturion acknowledging that this was really the Son of God, while thegroup of the fainting Virgin, supported by the Marys and St. John, addslegend to symbolism, ideality, and history. " In the study of the doctrinal development nothing is so important asthe exegesis of the New Testament statements about the Cross; and thishas been done in a masterly way by Dr. Dale in his work on theAtonement. What may be called the Philosophy of the Cross (to borrow ahappy phrase of McCheyne Edgar's) came late. It is usually reckoned tohave commenced with Anselm; and since the Reformation every greattheologian has added his contribution. Yet the work is by no meanscompleted. Indeed, at the present day there is no greater desideratumin theology than a philosophy of the Cross which would thoroughlysatisfy the religious mind. Shallow theories abound; but the Church ofChrist will never be able to rest in any theory which does not dojustice, on the one hand, to the tremendously strong statements ofScripture on the subject and, on the other, to her own consciousness ofunique and infinite obligation to the dying Saviour. Perhaps the mostsatisfactory expression of the Christian consciousness on the subjectis to be found in the hymns of the Church, from the Te Deum downthrough Scotua Erigena and Fulbert of Chartres to Gerhardt and Toplady. See Schaff's _Christ in Song_. A third line of development might be traced--the Practical--inmartyrology, the history of missions, asceticism, and the like; and thespokesman of this branch of the truth is à Kempis, who, as Zöcklersays, teaches his disciples to know poverty and humility as the rootsof the tree of the Cross, labour and penitence as its bark, righteousness and mercy as its two principal branches, truth anddoctrine as its precious leaves, chastity and obedience as itsblossoms, temperance and discipline as its fragrance, and salvation andeternal life as its glorious fruit. [6] When the Northern nations became Christian they transferred to theCross the nobler ideas embodied in the mystic tree Igdrasil; and one ofthe commonest ideas of the mystical writers of the Middle Ages is theidentification of the Cross as both the true tree of life and the truetree of knowledge. CHAPTER XIII. THE GROUPS ROUND THE CROSS In the last chapter we saw the Son of Man nailed to the cursed tree. There He hung for hours, exposed, helpless, but conscious, looking outon the sea of faces assembled to behold His end. On the occasion of anexecution a crowd gathers outside our jails merely to see the blackflag run up which signals that the deed is done; and in the old days ofpublic executions such an event always attracted an enormous crowd. Nodoubt it was the same in Jerusalem. When Jesus was put to death, itwas Passover time, and the city was filled with multitudes ofstrangers, to whom any excitement was welcome. Besides, the case ofJesus had stirred both the capital and the entire country. [1] The sight which the crowd had come to see was, we now know, thegreatest ever witnessed in the universe. Angels and archangels wereabsorbed in it; millions of men and women are looking back to it to-dayand every day. But what impressions did it make on those who saw it atthe time? To ascertain this, let us look at three characteristicgroups near the cross, whose feelings were shared in varying degrees bymany around them. I. Look, first, at the group nearest the cross--that of the Roman soldiers. In the Roman army it seems to have been a rule that, when executionswere carried out by soldiers, the effects of the criminals fell asperquisites to those who did the work. Though many more soldiers wereprobably present on this occasion, the actual details of fixing thebeam, handling the hammer and nails, hoisting the apparatus, and soforth, in the case of Jesus, fell to a quaternion of them. To thesefour, therefore, belonged all that was on Him; and they could at onceproceed to divide the spoil, because in crucifixion the victim wasstripped before being affixed to the cross--a trait of revoltingshame. [2] A large, loose upper garment, a head-dress perhaps, a girdleand a pair of sandals, and, last of all, an under garment, such asGalilean peasants were wont to wear, which was all of a piece and hadperhaps been knitted for Him by the loving fingers of His mother--thesearticles became the booty of the soldiers. They formed the entireproperty which Jesus had to leave, and the four soldiers were Hisheirs. Yet this was He who bequeathed the vastest legacy that ever hasbeen left by any human being--a legacy ample enough to enrich the wholeworld. Only it was a spiritual legacy--of wisdom, of influence, ofexample. The soldiers, their ghastly task over, sat down at the foot of thecross to divide their booty. They obtained from it not only profit butamusement; for, after dividing the articles as well as they could, theyhad to cast lots about the last, which they could not divide. One ofthem fetched some dice out of his pocket--gambling was a favouritepastime of Roman soldiers--and they settled the difficulty by a game. Look at them--chaffering, chattering, laughing; and, above their heads, not a yard away, that Figure. What a picture! The Son of God atoningfor the sins of the world, whilst angels and glorified spirits crowdthe walls of the celestial city to look down at the spectacle; and, within a yard of His sacred Person, the soldiers, in absolute apathy, gambling for these poor shreds of clothing! So much, and no more, didthey perceive of the stupendous drama they were within touch of. Forit is not only necessary to have a great sight to make an impression;quite as necessary is the seeing eye. There are those to whom thisearth is sacred because Jesus Christ has trodden it; the sky is sacredbecause it has bent above Him; history is sacred because His name isinscribed on it; the daily tasks of life are all sacred because theycan be done in His name. But are there not multitudes, even inChristian lands, who live as if Christ had never lived, and to whom thequestion has never occurred, What difference does it make to us thatJesus died in this world of which we are inhabitants? II. Look now at a second group, much more numerous than the first, consisting of the members of the Sanhedrim. After condemning Jesus in their own court, they had accompanied Himthrough stage after stage of His civil trial, until at last theysecured His condemnation at the tribunal of Pilate. When at last Hewas handed over to the executioners, it might have been expected thatthey would have been tired of the lengthy proceedings and glad toescape from the scene. But their passions had been thoroughly aroused, and their thirst for revenge was so deep that they could not allow thesoldiers to do their own work, but, forgetful of dignity, accompaniedthe crowd to the place of execution and stayed to glut their eyes withthe spectacle of their Victim's sufferings. Even after He was liftedup on the tree, they could not keep their tongues off Him or give Himthe dying man's privilege of peace; but, losing all sense of propriety, they made insulting gestures and poured on Him insulting cries. Naturally the crowd followed their example, till not only the soldierstook it up, but even the thieves who were crucified with Him joined in. So that the crowd under His eyes became a sea of scorn, whose angrywaves dashed up about His cross. The line taken was to recall all the great names which He had claimed, or which had been applied to Him, and to contrast them with theposition in which He now was. "The Son of God, " "The Chosen of God, ""The King of Israel, " "The Christ, " "The King of the Jews, " "Thou thatdestroyest the temple and buildest it in three days"--with theseepithets they pelted Him in every tone of mockery. They challenged Himto come down from the cross and they would believe Him. This was theirmost persistent cry--He had saved others, but Himself He could notsave. They had always maintained that it was by the power of devils Hewrought His miracles; but these evil powers are dangerous to palterwith; they may lend their virtue for a time, but at last they appear todemand their price; at the most critical moment they leave him who hastrusted them in the lurch. This was what had happened to Jesus; now atlast the wizard's wand was broken and He could charm no more. As they thus poured out the gall which had long been accumulating intheir hearts, they did not notice that, in the multitude of theirwords, they were using the very terms attributed in the twenty-secondPsalm to the enemies of the holy Sufferer: "He trusted in God; let Himdeliver Him now, if He will have Him; for He said, I am the Son ofGod. " Cold-blooded historians have doubted whether they could havemade such a slip without noticing it; but, strange to say, there is anexact modern parallel. When one of the Swiss reformers was pleadingbefore the papal court, the president interrupted him with the verywords of Caiaphas to the Sanhedrim: "He hath spoken blasphemy: whatfurther need have we of witnesses? What think ye?" and they allanswered, "He is worthy of death"; without noticing, till he remindedthem, that they were quoting Scripture. [3] Jesus might have answered the cries of His enemies; because to onehanging on the cross it was possible not only to hear and see, but alsoto speak. However, He answered never a word--"when He was reviled, Hereviled not again, " "as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so Heopened not His mouth. " This was not, however, because He did not feel. More painful than the nails which pierced His body were these missilesof malice shot at His mind. The human heart laid bare its basest andblackest depths under His very eyes; and all its foul scum was pouredover Him. Was it a temptation to Him, one wonders, when so often from every sidethe invitation was given Him to come down from the cross? This wassubstantially the same temptation as was addressed to Him at theopening of His career, when Satan urged Him to cast Himself from thepinnacle of the temple. It had haunted Him in various forms all Hislife through. And now it assails Him once more at the crisis of Hisfate. They thought His patience was impotence and His silence aconfession of defeat. Why should He not let His glory blaze forth andconfound them? How easily He could have done it! Yet no; He couldnot. They were quite right when they said, "He saved others, HimselfHe cannot save. " Had He saved Himself, He would not have been theSaviour. Yet the power that kept Him on the cross was a far mightierone than would have been necessary to leave it. It was not by thenails through His hands and feet that He was held, nor by the ropeswith which His arms were bound, nor by the soldiers watching Him; no, but by invisible bands--by the cords of redeeming love and by theconstraint of a Divine design. Of this, however, His enemies had no inkling. They were judging Him bythe most heathenish standard. They had no idea of power but a materialone, or of glory but a selfish one. The Saviour of their fancy was apolitical deliverer, not One who could save from sin. And to this dayChrist hears the cry from more sides than one, "Come down from thecross, and we will believe Thee. " It comes from the spirituallyshallow, who have no sense of their own unworthiness or of the majestyand the rights of a holy God. They do not understand a theology of sinand punishment, of atonement and redemption; and all the deepsignificance of His death has to be taken out of Christianity beforethey will believe it. It comes, too, from the morally cowardly and theworldly-minded, who desire a religion without the cross. IfChristianity were only a creed to believe, or a worship in whosecelebration the aesthetic faculty might take delight, or a private pathby which a man might pilgrim to heaven unnoticed, they would bedelighted to believe it; but, because it means confessing Christ andbearing His reproach, mingling with His despised people and supportingHis cause, they will have none of it. None can honour the cross ofChrist who have not felt the humiliation of guilt and entered into thesecret of humility. III. Let our attention now be directed to a third group. And again it is acomparatively small one. As the eyes of Jesus wandered to and fro over the sea of faces upturnedto His own--faces charged with every form and degree of hatred andcontempt--was there no point on which they could linger withsatisfaction? Yes, among the thorns there was one lily. On theoutskirts of the crowd there stood a group of His acquaintances and ofthe women who followed Him from Galilee and ministered unto Him. Letus enumerate their honoured names, as far as they have beenpreserved--"Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James and Joses[Transcriber's note: Joseph?], and the mother of Zebedee's children. " Their position, "afar off, " probably indicates that they were in astate of fear. It was not safe to be too closely identified with Oneagainst whom the authorities cherished such implacable feelings; andthey may have been quite right not to make themselves too conspicuous. Apart from the danger to which they might be exposed, they had a wholetempest of trouble in their hearts. As yet they knew not theScriptures that He must rise again from the dead; and this collapse ofthe cause in which they had embarked their all for time and foreternity was a bewildering calamity. They had trusted that it had beenHe who should have redeemed Israel, and that He would live and reignover the redeemed race forever. And there He was, perishing beforetheir eyes in defeat and shame. Their faith was at the very last ebb. Or say, rather, it survived only in the form of love. Bewildered aswere their ideas, He had as firm a hold as ever on their hearts. Theyloved Him; they suffered with Him; they could have died for Him. May we not believe that the eyes of Jesus, as long as they were able tosee, turned often away from the brutal soldiers beneath His feet, andfrom the sea of distorted faces, to this distant group? In somerespects, indeed, their aspect might be more trying to Him than eventhe hateful faces of His enemies; for sympathy will sometimes breakdown a strong heart that is proof against opposition. Yet thisneighbourly sympathy and womanly love must, on the whole, have been aprofound comfort and support. He was sustained all through Hissufferings by the thought of the multitudes without number who wouldbenefit from what He was enduring; but here before His eyes was anearnest of His reward; and in them He saw of the travail of His souland was satisfied. In these three groups, then, we see three predominant states ofmind--in the soldiers apathy, in the Sanhedrim antipathy, in theGalileans sympathy. Has it ever occurred to you to ask in which group you would have beenhad you been there? This is a searching question. Of course it iseasy now to say which were right and which were wrong. It is alwayseasy to admire the heroes and the causes of bygone days; but it ispossible to do so and yet be apathetic or antipathetic to those of ourown. Even the Roman soldiers at the foot of the cross admired Romulusand Cincinnatus and Brutus, though they had no feeling for One at theirside greater than these. The Jews who were mocking Christ admiredMoses and Samuel and Isaiah. Christ is still bearing His cross throughthe streets of the world, and is hanging exposed to contempt andill-treatment; and it is possible to admire the Christ of the Bible andyet be persecuting and opposing the Christ of our own century. TheChrist of to-day signifies the truth, the cause, the principles ofChrist, and the men and women in whom these are embodied. We areeither helping or hindering those movements on which Christ has set Hisheart; often, without being aware of it, men choose their sides andplan and speak and act either for or against Christ. This is thePassion of our own day, the Golgotha of our own city. But it comes nearer than this. The living Christ Himself is still inthe world: He comes to every door; His Spirit strives with every soul. And He still meets with these three kinds of treatment--apathy, antipathy, sympathy. As a magnet, passing over a heap of objects, causes those to move and spring out of the heap which are akin toitself, so redeeming love, as revealed in Christ, passing over thesurface of mankind century after century, has the power so to movehuman hearts to the very depths that, kindling with admiration anddesire, they spring up and attach themselves to Him. This response maybe called faith, or love, or spirituality, or what you please; but itis the very test and touchstone of eternity, for it is separating menand women from the mass and making them one for ever with the life andthe love of God. [1] Keim strangely surmises that there was no great crowd; but this isimpossible. [2] As, however, the Jews would have objected to this, Edersheimargues--but not convincingly--that there must have been at least aslight covering. [3] Süskind, _Passionsschule_, _in loc_. CHAPTER XIV. THE FIRST WORD FROM THE CROSS[1] In the last chapter we saw the impressions made by the crucifixion onthe different groups round the cross. On the soldiers, who did thedeed, it made no impression at all; they were absolutely blind to thewonder and glory of the scene in which they were taking part. On themembers of the Sanhedrim, and the others who thought with them, it hadan extraordinary effect: the perfect revelation of goodness andspiritual beauty threw them into convulsions of angry opposition. Eventhe group of the friends of Jesus, standing afar off, saw only a verylittle way into the meaning of what was taking place before their eyes:the victory of their Master over sin, death and the world appeared tothem a tragic defeat. So true is it, as I said, that, when somethinggrand is to be seen, there is required not only the object but theseeing eye. The image in a mirror depends not only on the objectreflected but on the quality and the configuration of the glass. We wish, however, to see the scene enacted on Calvary in its trueshape; and where shall we look? There was one mind there in which itwas mirrored with perfect fidelity. If we could see the image of thecrucifixion in the mind of Jesus Himself, this would reveal its truemeaning. But in what way can we ascertain how it appeared to Him, as from Hispainful station He looked forth upon the scene? The answer is to befound in the sentences which he uttered, as He hung, before His senseswere stifled by the mists of death. These are like windows throughwhich we can see what was passing in His mind. They are merefragments, of course; yet they are charged with eternal significance. Words are always photographs, more or less true, of the mind whichutters them; these were the truest words ever uttered, and He whouttered them stamped on them the image of Himself. They are seven in number, and it will be to our advantage to linger onthem; they are too precious to be taken summarily. The sayings of thedying are always impressive. We never forget the deathbed utterancesof a parent or a bosom friend; the last words of famous men aretreasured for ever. In Scripture Jacob, Joseph, Moses, and otherpatriarchal men are represented as having risen on their deathbeds farabove themselves and spoken in the tones of a higher world; and in allnations a prophetic importance has been attached to the words of thedying. Now, these are the dying words of Christ; and, as all His wordsare like gold to silver in comparison with those of other men, sothese, in comparison with the rest of His words, are as diamonds togold. In the First Word three things are noticeable--the Invocation, thePetition, and the Argument. I. It was not unusual for crucified persons to speak on the cross; buttheir words usually consisted of wild expressions of pain or bootlessentreaties for release, curses against God or imprecations on those whohad inflicted their sufferings. When Jesus had recovered from theswooning shock occasioned by the driving of the nails into His handsand feet, His first utterance was a prayer, and His first word "Father. " Was it not an unintentional condemnation of those who had affixed Himthere? It was in the name of religion they had acted and in the nameof God; but which of them was thus impregnated through and through withreligion? which of them could pretend to a communion with God so closeand habitual? Evidently it was because prayer was the natural languageof Jesus that at this moment it leapt to His lips. It is a suspiciouscase when in any trial, especially an ecclesiastical one, the condemnedis obviously a better man than the judges. The word "Father, " further, proved that the faith of Jesus was unshakenby all through which He had passed and by that which He was nowenduring. When righteousness is trampled underfoot and wrong istriumphant, faith is tempted to ask if there is really a God, lovingand wise, seated on the throne of the universe, or whether, on thecontrary, all is the play of chance. When prosperity is turnedsuddenly into adversity and the structure of the plans and hopes of alife is tumbled in confusion to the ground, even the child of God isapt to kick against the Divine will. Great saints have been driven, bythe pressure of pain and disappointment, to challenge God'srighteousness in words which it is not lawful for a man to utter. But, when the fortunes of Jesus were at the blackest, when He was baited bya raging pack of wolf-like enemies, and when He was sinking intounplumbed abysses of pain and desertion, He still said "Father. " It was the apotheosis of faith, and to all time it will serve as anexample; because it was gloriously vindicated. If ever the hand of theCreator seemed to be withdrawn from the rudder of the universe, and thecourse of human affairs to be driving down headlong into the gulf ofconfusion, it was when He who was the embodiment of moral beauty andworth had to die a shameful death as a malefactor. Could good by anypossibility rise out of such an abyss of wrong? The salvation of theworld came out of it; all that is noblest in history came out of it. This is the supreme lesson to God's children never to despair. All maybe dark; everything may seem going to rack and ruin; evil may seem tobe enthroned on the seat of God; yet God liveth; He sits above thetumult of the present; and He will bring forth the dawn from the wombof the darkness. II. The prayer which followed this invocation was still more remarkable: itwas a prayer for the pardon of His enemies. In the foregoing pages we have seen to what kind of treatment He wassubjected from the arrest onwards--how the minions of authority struckand insulted Him, how the high priests twisted the forms of law toensnare Him, how Herod disdained Him, how Pilate played fast and loosewith His interests, how the mob howled at Him. Our hearts have burnedwith indignation as one depth of baseness has opened beneath another;and we have been unable to refrain from using hard language. Thecomment of Jesus on it all was, "Father, forgive them. " Long ago, indeed, He had taught men, "Love your enemies, bless themthat curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them whichdespitefully use you and persecute you. " But this morality of theSermon on the Mount had been considered, as the world still inclines toconsider it, a beautiful dream. There have been many teachers who havesaid such beautiful things; but what a difference there is betweenpreaching and practice! When you have been delighted with thesentiments of an author, it is frequently well that you know no moreabout him; because, if you chance to become acquainted with the factsof his own life, you experience a painful disillusionment. Have notstudents even of our own English literature in very recent timeslearned to be afraid to read the biographies of literary men, lest thebeautiful structure of sentiments which they have gathered from theirwritings should be shattered by the truth about themselves? But Jesuspractised what He taught. He is the one teacher of mankind in whom thesentiment and the act completely coincide. His doctrine was the veryhighest: too high it often seems for this world. But how much morepractical it appears when we see it in action. He proved that it canbe realised on earth when on the cross He prayed, "Father, forgivethem. " Few of us, perhaps, know what it is to forgive. We have never beendeeply wronged; very likely many of us have not a single enemy in theworld. But those who have are aware how difficult it is; perhapsnothing else is more difficult. Revenge is one of the sweetestsatisfactions to the natural heart. The law of the ancient world was, at least in practice, "Thou shalt love thy neighbour and hate thineenemy. " Even saints, in the Old Testament, curse those who havepersecuted and wronged them in terms of uncompromising severity. HadJesus followed these and, as soon as He was able to speak, uttered toHis Father a complaint in which the conduct of His enemies was brandedin the terms it deserved, who would have ventured to find fault withHim? Even in that there might have been a revelation of God; becausein the Divine nature there is a fire of wrath against sin. But howpoor would such a revelation have been in comparison with the one whichHe now made. All His life He was revealing God; but now His time wasshort; and it was the very highest in God He had to make known. In this word Christ revealed Himself; but at the same time He revealedthe Father. All His life long the Father was in Him, but on the crossthe divine life and character flamed in His human nature like the firein the burning bush. It uttered itself in the word; "Father, forgivethem"; and what did it tell? It told that God is love. III. The expiring Saviour backed up His prayer for the forgiveness of Hisenemies with the argument--"For they know not what they do. " This allows us to see further still into the divine depths of His love. The injured are generally alive only to their own side of the case; andthey see only those circumstances which tend to place the conduct ofthe opposite party in the worst light. But at the moment when the paininflicted by His enemies was at the worst Jesus was seeking excuses fortheir conduct. The question has been raised how far the excuse which He made on theirbehalf applied. Could it be said of them all that they knew not whatthey were doing? Did not Judas know? did not the high priests know?did not Herod know? Apparently it was primarily to the soldiers whodid the actual work of crucifixion that Jesus referred; because it wasin the very midst of their work that the words were uttered, as may beseen in the narrative of St. Luke. The soldiers, the rude uninstructedinstruments of the government, were the least guilty among theassailants of Jesus. Next to them, perhaps, came Pilate; and therewere different stages and degrees down, through Herod and theSanhedrim, to the unspeakable baseness of Judas. But St. Peter, in thebeginning of Acts, expressly extends the plea of ignorance so far as tocover even the Sanhedrists--"And now, brethren, I wot that throughignorance ye did it, as did also your rulers"--and who will believethat the heart of the Saviour was less comprehensive than that of thedisciple? Let us not be putting limits to the divine mercy. It is true of everysinner, in some measure, that he knows not what he does. And to a truepenitent, as he approaches the throne of mercy, it is a greatconsolation to be assured that this plea will be allowed. Penitent St. Paul was comforted with it: "God had mercy on me, because I did itignorantly in unbelief. " God knows all our weakness and blindness; menwill not make allowance for it or even understand it; but He willunderstand it all, if we come to hide our guilty head in His bosom. Of course this blessed truth may be perverted by an impenitent heart toits own undoing. There is no falser notion than that expressed in theFrench proverb, _Tout comprendre est tout pardonner_ (To understandeverything is to pardon everything), for it means that man is the merecreature of circumstances and has no real responsibility for hisactions. How far our Lord was from this way of thinking is shown bythe fact that He said, "Forgive them. " He knew that they neededforgiveness; which implies that they were guilty. Indeed, it was Hisvivid apprehension of the danger to which their guilt exposed them thatmade Him forget His own sufferings and fling Himself between them andtheir fate. It has been asked, Was this prayer answered? were the crucifiers ofJesus forgiven? To this it may be replied that a prayer forforgiveness cannot be answered without the co-operation of those prayedfor. Unless they repent and seek pardon for themselves, how can Godforgive them? The prayer of Jesus, therefore, meant that time shouldbe granted them for repentance, and that they should be plied withprovidences and with preaching, to awaken their consciences. To punishso appalling a crime as the crucifixion of His Son, God might havecaused the earth to open on the spot and swallow the sinners up. Butno judgment of the kind took place. As Jesus had predicted, Jerusalemperished in indescribable throes of agony; but not till forty yearsafter His death; and in this interval the pouring out of the Spirit atPentecost took place, and the apostles began their preaching of thekingdom at Jerusalem, urgently calling the nation to repentance. Norwas their work in vain; for thousands believed. Even before the sceneof the crucifixion terminated, one of the two thieves crucified alongwith Jesus, who had taken part in reviling Him, was converted; and thecenturion who superintended the execution confessed Him as the Son ofGod. After all was over, multitudes who had beheld the sight went awaysmiting their breasts. [2] We have no reason to doubt, therefore, thateven in this direct sense the prayer received an abundant answer. But this was a prayer of a kind which may also be answered indirectly. Besides the effect which prayer has in procuring specific petitions, itacts reflexly on the spirit of the person who offers it, calming, sweetening, invigorating. Although some erroneously regard this as theonly real answer that prayer can receive, denying that God can be movedby our petitions, yet we, who believe that more things are wrought byprayer, ought not to overlook this. By praying that His enemies mightbe forgiven, Jesus was enabled to drive back the spirits of anger andrevenge which tried to force their way into His bosom, and preservedundisturbed the serenity of His soul. To ask God to forgive them wasthe triumphant ending of His own effort to forgive; and it isimpossible to forgive without a delicious sense of deliverance andpeace being shed abroad in the forgiving heart. May we not add that part of the answer to this prayer has been itsrepetition age after age by the persecuted and wronged? St. Stephenled the way, in the article of death praying meekly after the fashionof his Master, "Lord, lay not this sin to their charge. " Hundreds havefollowed. And day by day this prayer is diminishing the sum ofbitterness and increasing the amount of love in the world. [1] "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do. " [2] Luke xxiii. 48. CHAPTER XV. THE SECOND WORD FROM THE CROSS[1] I. It is not said by whose arrangement it was that Jesus was hung betweenthe two thieves. It may have been done by order of Pilate, who wishedin this way to add point to the witticism which he had put into theinscription above the cross; or the arrangement may have been due tothe Jewish officials, who followed their Victim to Golgotha and mayhave persuaded the soldiers to give Him this place, as an additionalinsult; or the soldiers may have done it of their own accord, simplybecause He was obviously the most notable of their prisoners. The likelihood is that there was malice in it. Yet there was a divinepurpose behind the wrath of man. Again and again one has to remarkhow, in these last scenes, every shred of action and every random wordaimed at Jesus for the purpose of injuring and dishonouring Him soturned, instead, to honour, that in our eyes, now looking back, itshines on Him like a star. As a fire catches the lump of dirty coal orclot of filth that is flung into it, and converts it into a mass oflight, so at this time there was that about Christ which transmuted thevery insults hurled at Him into honours and charged even the incidentsof His crucifixion which were most trivial in themselves withunspeakable meaning. The crown of thorns, the purple robe, Pilate'sEcce Homo, the inscription on the cross, the savage cries of thepassers-by and other similar incidents, full at the time of malice, arenow memories treasured by all who love the Saviour. So His position between the thieves was ordained by God as well as bymen. It was His right position. They had called Him long before "afriend of publicans and sinners;" and now, by crucifying Him betweenthe thieves, they put the same idea into action. As, however, thatnickname has become a title of everlasting honour, so has thisinsulting deed. Jesus came to the world to identify Himself withsinners; their cause was His, and He wrapped up His fate with theirs;He had lived among them, and it was meet that He should die among them. To this day He is in the midst of them; and the strange behaviour ofthe two between whom He hung that day was a prefigurement of what hasbeen happening every day since: some sinners have believed on Him andbeen saved, while others have believed not: to the one His gospel is asavour of life unto life, to the other it is a savour of death untodeath. So it is to be till the end; and on the great day when thewhole history of this world shall be wound up He will still be in themidst; and the penitent will be on the one hand and the impenitent onthe other. But it was not in one way only that the divine wisdom overruled forhigh ends of its own the humiliating circumstance that Jesus was thusreckoned with the transgressors. It gave Him an opportunity ofillustrating, at the very last moment, both the magnanimity of His owncharacter and the nature of His mission; and at the moment when Heneeded it most it supplied Him with a cup of what had always been toHim the supreme joy of living--the bliss of doing good. As the parableof the Prodigal Son is an epitome of the whole teaching of Christ, sois the salvation of the thief on the cross the life of Christ inminiature. II. Both thieves appear to have joined in taunting Jesus, in imitation ofthe Sanhedrists. This has, indeed, been doubted or denied by those, ofwhom there have been many, who have experienced difficulty inunderstanding how so complete a revolution as the conversion of thepenitent thief could take place in so short a time. Two of theEvangelists say that those crucified with Him reviled Him; but it isjust possible grammatically to explain this as referring only to one ofthem; because sometimes an action is attributed to a class, though onlyone person of the class has done it. [2] The natural interpretation, however, is that both did it. It is likely enough, indeed, that theone who did not repent began it, and that the other joined in, less ofhis own accord than in imitation of his reckless associate. Veryprobably this was not the first time that he had been dragged into sinby the same attraction. His companion may have been his evil genius, who had ruined his life and brought him at last to this shameful end. It was an awful extreme of wickedness to be engaged, so near their ownend, in hurling opprobrious words at a fellow-sufferer. Of course, thevery excess of pain made crucified persons reckless; and to be engageddoing anything, especially anything violent, helped to make them forgettheir agony. It mattered not who or what was the object of attack;they were reduced to the condition of tortured animals; and the trappedbrute bites at anything which approaches it. This was the state of theimpenitent thief. But the other drew back from his companion withhorror. The very excess of sin overleaped itself; and for the firsttime he saw how vile a wretch he was. This was brought home to him bythe contrast of the patience and peace of Jesus. His brutal companionhad hitherto been his ideal; but now he perceives how base is hisferocious courage in comparison with the strength of Christ's sereneendurance. The desire to explain away the suddenness of the conversion has led toall sorts of conjectures as to the possibility of previous meetingsbetween the thief and Christ. It is quite legitimate to dwell on whathe had seen of the behaviour of Jesus from the moment when they werebrought into contact in the crucifixion. He had heard Him pray for theforgiveness of His enemies; he had witnessed His demeanour on the wayto Calvary and heard His words to the daughters of Jerusalem; the verycries of His enemies round the cross, when they cast in His teeth thetitles which He had claimed or which had been attributed to Him, informed him what were the pretensions of Jesus; perhaps he may havewitnessed and heard the trial before Pilate. But, when we attempt togo further back, we have nothing solid to found upon. Had he everheard Jesus preach? Had he witnessed any of His miracles? How muchdid he know of the nature of His Kingdom, of which he spoke? Guessesmay be made in answer to such questions, but they cannot beauthenticated. I should be inclined with more confidence to lookfurther back still. He may have come out of a pious home; he may havebeen a prodigal led astray by companions, and especially by the strongcompanion with whom he was now associated. As there was a weepingmother at the foot of the cross of Jesus, there may have been aheart-broken parent at the foot of that other cross also, whose prayerswere yet going to be answered in a way surpassing her wildest hopes. The question of the possibility of sudden conversion is generallyargued with too much excitement on both sides to allow the facts to berecognised. Among us there may, in one sense, be said to be no suchthing. Suppose anyone reading this page, who may know that he has notyet with his whole heart and soul turned to God, were to do so beforeturning the next leaf, would this be a sudden conversion? Why, thepreparation for it has been going on for years. What has been theintention of all the religious instruction which you have received fromyour childhood, of the prayers offered on your behalf of the appealswhich have moved you, of the strivings of God's Spirit, but to lead upto this result? Though your conversion were to take place this veryhour, it would only be the last moment of a process which has gone onfor years. Yet in a sense it would be sudden. And why should it not?What reason is there why your return to God should be furtherpostponed? There are two experiences in religion which require to becarefully distinguished: there is the making of religious impressionson us by others from the outside--through instruction, example, appealand the like; and there is the rise of religion within ourselves, whenwe turn round upon our impressions and make them our own. The formerexperience is long and slow, but the latter may be very sudden; and avery little thing may bring it about. Another way in which it is possible to minimise the greatness of thisconversion is by questioning the guilt of the man. [3] When he iscalled a thief, the name suggests a very common and degraded sinner;but it is pointed out that "robber" would be the correct name, and thatprobably he and his companion may have been revolutionaries, whoseopposition to the Roman rule had driven them outside the pale ofsociety, where, to win a subsistence, they had to resort to the tradeof highwaymen; but in that country, tyrannised over by a despoticforeign power, those who attempted to raise the standard of revolt weresometimes far from ignoble characters, though the necessities of theirposition betrayed them into acts of violence. There is truth in this;and the penitent thief may not have been a sinner above all men. Buthis own words to his companion, "We receive the due reward of ourdeeds, " point the other way. His memory was stained with acts forwhich he acknowledged that death was the lawful penalty. In short, there is no reason to doubt either that he was a great sinner or thathe was suddenly changed. And therefore his example will always be anencouragement to the worst of sinners when they repent. It is commonfor penitents to be afraid to come to God, because their sins have beentoo great to be forgiven; but those who are encouraging them can pointto cases like Manasseh, and Mary Magdalene, and the thief on the cross, and assure them that the mercy which sufficed for these is sufficientfor all: "The blood of Jesus Christ, God's Son, cleanseth us from allsin. " The fear of those who endeavour to minimise the wonderfulness of thisconversion is lest, if it be allowed that a man of the worst charactercould undergo so complete a change in so short a time on the very vergeof the other world, men may be induced to put off their own salvationin the hope of availing themselves of a death-bed repentance. This isa just fear; and the grace of God has undoubtedly been sometimes thusabused. But it is an utter abuse. Those who allow themselves to bedeceived with this reasoning believe that they can at any momentcommand penitence and faith, and that all the other feelings ofreligion will come to them whenever they choose to summon them. Butdoes experience lead us to believe this? Are not the occasions, on thecontrary, very rare when religion really moves irreligious men "We cannot kindle when we will The fire that in the soul resides: The spirit breatheth and is still-- In mystery the soul abides. " Nor is it by any means a uniform experience that the approach of deathawakens religious anxiety. The other thief is a solemn warning. Though face to face with death and in such close proximity to Jesus, hewas only hardened and rendered more reckless than ever. And this isfar more likely to be the fate of anyone who deliberately quenches theSpirit because he is trusting to a death-bed repentance. Yet we will not allow the possible abuse of the truth to rob us of theglorious testimony contained in this incident to the grace of God. Weset no limits to the invitation of the Saviour, "Him that cometh untoMe I will in no wise cast out. " However late a sinner may be incoming, and however little time he may have in which to come, let himonly come and he will not be cast out. There is no more critical testof theologies and theologians than the question what message they haveto a dying person whose sins are unforgiven. If the salvation which apreacher has to offer is only a course of moral improvement, what canhe have to say in such a place? We may be sure that our gospel is notthe gospel of Him who comforted the penitent thief, unless we are ableto offer even to a dying sinner a salvation immediate, joyful andcomplete. How complete the revolution was in the penitent thief is shown by hisown words. St. Paul in one place sums up Christianity in twothings--repentance towards God and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Andboth of these we see in this penitent's words. His repentance towardsGod is brought out by what he said to his companion. "Dost thou notfear God?" he asked. He had himself forgotten God, no doubt, and putHim far away in the sinful past. But now God was near, and in thelight of God he saw his own sinfulness. He confessed it, doing so notonly in his secret mind but audibly. Thus he separated himself fromit, as he did also from the companion who had led him astray, when hewould not come with him on the path of penitence. Not less distinctlydo His words to the Saviour manifest his faith in the Lord JesusChrist. They are simple and humble: all he dared to expect was that, when Christ came into His kingdom, He would remember him. But theyrecognised the glory of Christ and expressed trust in Him. At themoment when the religious teachers of the nations thought that they hadfor ever destroyed Christ's claims, and even His own disciples hadforsaken Him, this poor dying sinner believed in Him. "How clear, "exclaims Calvin, "was the vision of the eyes which could thus see indeath life, in ruin majesty, in shame glory, in defeat victory, inslavery royalty. I question if ever since the world began there hasbeen so bright an example of faith. " Luther is no less laudatory. "This, " says he, "was for Christ a comfort like that supplied to Him bythe angel in the garden. God could not allow His Son to be destituteof subjects, and now His Church survived in this one man. Where thefaith of St. Peter broke off, the faith of the penitent thiefcommenced. " And another[4] asks, "Did ever the new birth take place inso strange a cradle?" III. It is worth noting that it was not by words that Jesus converted thisman. He did not address the penitent thief at all till the thief spoketo Him. The work of conviction was done before He uttered a word. Yetit was His work; and how did He do it? As St. Peter exhorted godlywives to convert their heathen husbands, when he wrote to them, "Likewise, ye wives, be in subjection to your own husbands, that, ifany obey not the Word, they also may, without the Word, be won by theconversation (_i. E. _, behaviour) of the wives, while they behold yourchaste conversation coupled with fear. " It was by the impression ofHis patience, His innocence, His peace, and His magnanimity, that Jesusconverted the man; and herein He has left us an example that we shouldfollow in His steps. But His words, when He did speak, added immensely to the impression. They were few, but every one of them expressed the Saviour. The robber was thinking of some date far off when Christ mightintervene in his behalf, but Christ says, "To-day. " This was aprophecy that he would die that day, and not be allowed to linger fordays, as crucified persons often were; and this was fulfilled. But itwas, besides, a promise that as soon as death launched him out of timeinto eternity, Christ would be waiting there to receive him. "To-daythou shalt be with Me. " All heaven is in these two last words. Whatdo we really know of heaven, what do we wish to know, except that it isto be "with Christ"? Yet a little more was added--"in Paradise. " Somehave thought that in this phrase Christ was stooping to the conceptionsof the penitent thief by using a popular expression for some happyplace in the other world. [5] At least the word, which means a gardenor park and was applied to the abode of our first parents in Eden, could not but call up in the consciousness of the dying man a scene ofbeauty, innocence and peace, where, washed clean from the defilement ofhis past errors, he would begin to exist again as a new creature. EvenChristians have believed that the utmost that can be expected in thenext world by a soul with a history like the robber's is, at least tobegin with, to be consigned to the fires of purgatory. But fardifferent is the grace of Christ: great and perfect is His work, andtherefore ours is a full salvation. This second word from the cross affords a rare glimpse into the divineglory of the Saviour; and it is all the more impressive that it isindirect. The thief, in the most solemn circumstances, spoke to Him asto a King and prayed to Him as to a God. [6] And how did He respond?Did He say, "Pray not to Me; I am a man like yourself, and I know aslittle of the unknown country into which we are both about to enter asyou do"? This is what He ought to have answered, if He was no morethan some make Him out to be. But He accepted the homage of Hispetitioner; He spoke of the world unseen as of a place native andfamiliar. He gave him to understand that He possessed as muchinfluence there as he attributed to Him. This great sinner laid onChrist the weight of his soul, the weight of his sins, the weight ofhis eternity; and Christ accepted the burden. [1] "To-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise. " [2] So Augustin and many. [3] Schleiermacher makes much of this; and, indeed, does everything inhis power to minimise the moral miracle. The whole sermon is aspecimen of his worst manner, when he rides away on some side issue andfails to expound the great central lessons of a subject. [4] Tholuck. [5] "In Biblical Hebrew the word is used for a choice garden but in theLXX. And the Apocalypse it is already used in our sense ofParadise. "--EDERSHEIM. [6] The word "Lord" in the robber's speech is, however, unauthentic. CHAPTER XVI. THE THIRD WORD FROM THE CROSS[1] In the life of our Lord from first to last there is a strange blendingof the majestic and the lowly. When a beam of His divine dignity isallowed to shine out and dazzle us, it is never long before thereensues some incident which reminds us that He is bone of our bone andflesh of our flesh; and, contrariwise, when He does anything whichimpressively brings home to us His humanity, there always followssomething to remind us that He was greater than the sons of men. Thusat His birth He was laid in a manger; yet out on the pastures ofBethlehem angels sang His praise. Long afterwards He was asleep in theend of the boat, and so overcome with fatigue that He needed to beawakened to realise His danger; but immediately He rebuked the windsand the waves, and there was a great calm. When He saw the grief ofMartha and Mary, "Jesus wept"; but only a few minutes afterwards Hecried, "Lazarus, come forth, " and He was obeyed. So it was to the verylast. In studying the Second Word from the cross we saw Him openingthe gates of Paradise to the penitent thief; to-day the Third Word willshow Him to us as the Son of a woman, concerned in His dying hour forher bodily sustenance. I. The eye of Jesus, roving over the multitude whose component parts havebeen already described, lighted on His mother standing at the foot ofthe cross. In the words of the great mediaeval hymn, which is known toall by its opening words, _Stabat mater_, and from the fact that it hasbeen set to music by such masters as Palestrina, Haydn and Rossini, "Beside the cross in tears The woeful mother stood, Bent 'neath the weight of years, And viewed His flowing blood; Her mind with grief was torn, Her strength was ebbing fast, And through her heart forlorn The sword of anguish passed. " When she carried her Infant into the temple in the pride of youngmotherhood, the venerable Simeon foretold that a sword would piercethrough her own soul also. Often perhaps had she wondered, in happydays, what this mysterious prediction might mean. But now she knew, for the sword was smiting her, stab after stab. It is always hard for a mother to see her son die. She naturallyexpects him to lay her head in the grave. Especially is this the casewith the first-born, the son of her strength. Jesus was onlythirty-three, and Mary must have reached the age when a mother most ofall leans for support on a strong and loving son. Far worse, however, was the death He was dying--the death of acriminal. Many mothers have had to suffer from the kind of death theirchildren have died, when it has been in great agony or in otherwisedistressing circumstances. But what mother's sufferings were everequal to Mary's? There He hung before her eyes; but she was helpless. His wounds bled, but she dared not stanch them; His mouth was parched, but she could not moisten it. These outstretched arms used to claspher neck; she used to fondle these pierced hands and feet. Ah! thenails pierced her as well as Him; the thorns round His brow were acircle of flame about her heart; the taunts flung at Him wounded herlikewise. But there was worse still--the sword cut deeper. Had not the angeltold her before His birth, "He shall be great, and shall be called theSon of the Highest, and the Lord God shall give unto Him the throne ofHis father David; and He shall reign over the house of Jacob for ever;and of His kingdom there shall be no end"? This greatness, thisthrone, this crown, this kingdom--where were they? Once she hadbelieved that she really was what the angel had called her--the mostblessed of women--when she saw Him lying in her lap in His beautifulinfancy, when the Shepherds and the Magi came to adore Him, and whenSimeon and Anna recognised Him as the Messiah. After that ensued thelong period of His obscurity in Nazareth. He was only the villagecarpenter; but she did not weary, for He was with her in their home;and she was confident that the greatness, the throne, the crown, thekingdom would all come in good time. At last His hour struck; and, casting down His tools and bidding her farewell, He went forth out ofthe little valley into the great world. It is all coming now, shesaid. Soon the news arrived of the words of grace and power He wasspeaking, of the multitudes following Him, of the nation being roused, and of the blind, the lame, the diseased, the bereaved who blessed Himfor giving joy back to their lives, and blessed her who had borne Him. It is all coming to pass, she said. But then followed other news--ofreaction, of opposition, of persecution. Her heart sank within her. She could not stay where she was. She left Nazareth and went awaytrembling to see what had happened. And now she stands at the foot ofHis cross. He is dying; and the greatness, the glory, and the kingdomhave never come. What could it mean? Had the angel been a deceiver, and God's word alie, and all the wonders of His childhood a dream? We know theexplanation now: Jesus was about to climb a far loftier throne thanMary had ever imagined, and the cross was the only road to it. Beforemany weeks were over Mary was to understand this too; but meantime itmust have been dark as Egypt to her, and her heart must have beensorrowful even unto death. The sword had pierced very deep. II. There were other women with Mary beneath the cross--two of them Marys, like herself. [2] As an ancient father[3] has said, the weaker sex onthis occasion proved itself the stronger. When the apostles hadforsaken their Master and fled, these women were true to the last. Perhaps, indeed, their sex protected them. Women can venture into someplaces where men dare not go; and this is a talent which many womenhave used for rendering services to the Saviour which men could nothave performed. But there was one there who had not this protection, and who inventuring so near must have taken his life in his hand. St. John, Isuppose, is included with the rest of the apostles in the sad statementthat they all forsook their Master and fled. But, if so, his panic canonly have lasted a moment. He was present at the very commencement ofthe trial; and here he still is with his Master at the last--the onlyone of all the Twelve. Perhaps, indeed, the acquaintance with thehigh-priest, which availed him to get into the palace where the trialtook place, may still have operated in his favour. But it was most ofall his greater devotion that brought him to his Master's side. He whohad leaned on His breast could not stay away, whatever might be thedanger. And he had his reward; for he was permitted to render a lastservice to Jesus amidst His agony, and he received from Him a token ofconfidence which by a heart like his must have been felt to be anunspeakable privilege and honour. III. It is most of all, however, with the impression made by the situationon Jesus Himself that we wish to acquaint ourselves. He looked on His mother; and it was with an unpreoccupied eye, that wasable to disengage its attention from every other object by which it wassolicited. He was suffering at the time an extremity of pain whichmight have made Him insensible to everything beyond Himself. Or, if Hehad composure enough to think, a dying man has many things to reflectupon within his own mind. Christ, we know, had a whole world ofinterests to attend to; for now He was engaged in a final wrestle withthe problem to which His whole life had been devoted. The prayer onbehalf of His enemies does not surprise us so much, for it may be saidto have been part of His office to intercede for sinners; nor Hisaddress to the penitent thief, for this also was quite in harmony withHis work as the Saviour. But we do wonder that in such an hour He hadleisure to attend to a domestic detail of ordinary life. Men who havebeen engaged in philanthropic and reformatory schemes have notinfrequently been unmindful of the claims of their own families; andthey have excused themselves, or excuse has been made for them, on theground that the public interest predominated over the rights of theirrelatives. Now and then Jesus Himself spoke as if He took this view:He would not allow His plans to be interfered with even by His mother. But now He showed that, though He could not but refuse her unjustinterference, He had never for a moment forgotten her just claims orher true interests. In spite of His greatness and in spite of Hiswork, He still remained Mary's Son and bore to her an undying affection. The words He spoke were, indeed, few; but they completely covered thecase. Every word He uttered in that position was with great pain;therefore He could not say much. Besides, their very fewness impartedto them a kind of judicial dignity; as has been said, this was Christ'slast will and testament. To His mother He said, "Woman, behold thyson, " [4] indicating St. John with His eyes; and to the disciple Hemerely said, "Behold thy mother. " It was simple, yet comprehensive; aplain, almost legal direction, and yet overflowing with love to bothMary and John. It is supposed that Joseph, the husband of the Virgin, had died beforeour Lord's public career began, and that in Nazareth the weight of thehousehold had fallen on the shoulders of Jesus. No doubt, during Hisyears of preaching, He would tenderly care for His mother. But now Hetoo was leaving her, and the widow would be without support. It wasfor this He had to provide. He had no money to leave her; His earthly all, when He was crucified, consisted of the clothes He wore; and these fell to the soldiers. Butit is one of the privileges of those who, though they may be poorthemselves, make many rich with the gifts of truth, that they therebywin friends who are proud and eager to serve them or theirs. Incommitting His mother to St. John Jesus knew that the charge would beaccepted not as a burden but a gift. Why she did not go to the home of one of her other sons it isimpossible to say. They were not yet believers, though soon afterwardsthey became so; but there may have been other reasons also, to usunknown. At all events, it is easy to see how kind and considerate was theselection of St. John for this office. There are indications in theGospels that St. John was wealthier, or at least more comfortable inhis circumstances, than the rest of the Apostles; and this may haveweighed with Jesus: He would not send His mother where she would feelherself to be a burden. It is highly probable also that St. John wasunmarried. But there were deeper reasons. There was no arm on whichHis mother could lean so confidently as that of him who had leaned onher Son's breast. St. Peter, with his hot temper and rough fisherman'sways, would not have been nearly so eligible a choice. John and Marywere kindred spirits. They were especially one in their intenseaffection for Jesus. They would never tire of speaking to one anotherabout Him. He honoured both of them in each other's eyes by givingthem to one another in this way. If He gave Mary a great gift ingiving her St. John for a son, He gave him no less a gift by giving himsuch a mother; for Mary could not but be an ornament to any home. Besides, did He not make St. John in a quite peculiar sense His ownbrother by substituting him in His own stead as the son of Mary? The Evangelist says that from that hour John took her to his own home. Many have understood this to mean that he at once gently withdrew herfrom the spot, that she should not be agitated by seeing thedeath-throes of her Son, though he himself returned to Calvary. It issaid by tradition that they lived together twelve years in Jerusalem, and that he refused to leave the city, even for the purpose ofpreaching the gospel, as long as Mary survived. Only after her deathdid he depart on those missionary travels which landed him in Ephesusand its neighbourhood, with which his later history is connected. IV. It is not difficult to read the lesson of this touching scene. Fromthe pulpit of His cross Jesus preaches to all ages a sermon on thefifth commandment. The heart of the mother of Jesus was pierced with a sword on account ofHis sufferings. It was a sharp weapon; but Mary had one thing on whichto steady up her soul; it kept her calm even in the wildest moment ofher grief--she knew He was innocent. He had always been pure, nobleand good; she could be proud of Him even when they were crucifying Him. Many a mother's heart is pierced with anguish on account of a son'sillness, or misfortunes, or early death; but she can bear it if she isnot pierced with the poisoned sword. What is that? It is when she hasto be ashamed of her child--when he is brought to ruin by his ownmisdeeds. This is a sorrow far worse than death. How beautiful it is to see a mother wearing as her chief ornament thegood name and the honourable success of a son! You who still have amother or a father, let this be to you both a spur to exertion and atalisman against temptation. To some is accorded the rarer privilegeof being able to support their parents in old age. And surely there isno sweeter memory in the world than the recollection of having beenallowed to do this. "If any widow have children or nephews, let themlearn first to show piety at home and to requite their parents; forthat is good and acceptable before God. . . . But if any provide notfor his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath deniedthe faith, and is worse than an infidel. " [5] But this sermon, delivered from the pulpit of the cross, has a widerrange. It informs us that our Saviour has a concern for our temporalas well as for our eternal interests. Even on the cross, where He wasexpiating the sin of the world, He was thinking of the comfort of Hiswidowed mother. Let the needy and the deserted take courage from this, and cast all their care upon Him, for He careth for them. It is oftenan astonishment to see how widows especially are helped through. Whenthey are left, with perhaps a number of little children, it seemsincomprehensible how they can get on. Yet not infrequently theirfamilies turn out better than those where the father has been spared. One reason is, perhaps, that their children feel from the first thatthey must take a share of the responsibility, and this makes men andwomen of them. But the chief reason undoubtedly is that God fulfilsHis own promise to be a Father to the fatherless and a Husband to thewidow, and that they have not been forgotten by Him who in the hour ofHis absorbing agony remembered Mary. [1] "Woman, behold thy son . . . Behold thy mother. " [2] It is not certain whether John xix. 25 describes three women orfour. Is the second Salome, John's mother? [3] Chrysostom. [4] "Woman" may mean sadly (proleptically), "Thou hast no son now. " [5] 1 Tim. V. 6, 8. CHAPTER XVII. THE FOURTH WORD FROM THE CROSS[1] The Seven Words from the Cross may be divided into two groups. In thefirst three--namely, the prayer for His crucifiers, the word to thepenitent thief, and the directions about His mother--our Lord wasdealing with the interests of others; in the last four, to which we nowpass, He was absorbed in His own concerns. This division is natural. Many a dying man, after arranging his affairs and saying his farewells, turns his face to the wall, to encounter death and be alone with God. It was highly characteristic of Jesus, however, before turning to Hisown things, first to mind the things of others. Between these two groups of sayings there seems to have elapsed a longinterval. From the sixth hour to the ninth Jesus was silent. Andduring this interval there was darkness over all the land. Of whatprecise nature this atmospheric effect may have been it is impossibleat this distance to say. But the Evangelists, three of whom mentionit, evidently consider it to have indicated in some sense the sympathyof nature with her Lord. It was as if the sun refused to look on sucha deed of shame. It may be supposed that by this weird phenomenon thenoises round the cross were in some degree hushed. At length thesilence was broken by Christ Himself, who, in a loud voice, gaveutterance to the Fourth Word from the cross. This was a word ofastonishment and agony, yet also of victory. I. Of what nature had been the meditations of our Lord during the threehours of silence? Had He been in an ecstasy of communion with Hisheavenly Father? Not infrequently has this been vouchsafed to dyingsaints. And it has sometimes enabled them completely to overcomephysical suffering. Martyrs have occasionally been so exalted at thelast as to be able even to sing in the flames. It is with awe andastonishment we learn that the very opposite of this was the state ofmind of Jesus. The word with which He burst out of the trance ofsilence may be taken as the index of what was going on in His mindduring the preceding hours; and it is a cry out of the lowest depths ofdespair. Indeed, it is the most appalling sound that ever pierced theatmosphere of this earth. Familiar as it is to us, it cannot be heardby a sensitive ear even at this day without causing a cold shudder ofterror. In the entire Bible there is no other sentence so difficult toexplain. The first thought of a preacher, on coming to it, is to findsome excuse for passing it by; and, after doing his utmost to expoundit, he must still confess that it is quite beyond him. Yet there is agreat reward in grappling with such difficult passages; for never doesthe truth impress us so profoundly as when we are made to feel that allthe length which we are able to go is only into the shallows of theshore, while beyond our reach lies the great ocean. Even in Christ's own mind the uppermost thought, when He uttered thiscry, was one of astonishment. In Gethsemane, we are told, "He was soreamazed. " And this is obviously the tone of this utterance also. Wealmost detect an accentuation of the "Thou" like that in the word withwhich the murdered Caesar fell. All His life Jesus had been accustomedto find Himself forsaken. The members of His own household earlyrejected Him. So did His fellow-townsmen in Nazareth. Ultimately thenation at large followed the same course. The multitudes that at onetime followed Him wherever He went and hung upon His lips eventuallytook offence and went away. At last, in the crisis of His fate, one ofHis nearest followers betrayed Him and the rest forsook Him and fled. But in these disappointments, though He felt them keenly, He had alwayshad one resource: He was always able, when rejected of men, to turnaway from them and cast Himself with confidence on the breast of God. Disappointed of human love, He drank the more deeply of the lovedivine. He always knew that what He was doing or suffering was inaccord with the will of God; His feelings kept constant time with theDivine heart; God's thoughts were His thoughts; He could clearlydiscern the divine intention leading through all the contradictions ofHis career to a sublime result. Therefore He could calmly say, even atthe Last Supper, with reference to the impending desertion of theTwelve, "Behold, the hour cometh, yea, is now come, that ye shall bescattered, every man to his own, and shall leave Me alone; and yet I amnot alone, because the Father is with Me. " Now, however, the hour hadcome; and was this expectation fulfilled? They were scattered, as Hehad predicted, and He was left alone; but was He not alone? was theFather still with Him? His own words supply the answer: "My God, MyGod, why hast Thou forsaken Me?" II. Although the state of mind of our Lord on this occasion was sodifferent from what we know to have been His habitual mood, yet it doesnot stand absolutely isolated in His history. We know of at least twoexperiences somewhat resembling it, and these may in some degree helpus to its explanation. The first overtook Him on the occasion of thevisit of certain Greeks at the beginning of the last week of His life. They had desired to see Him; but, when they were introduced by Andrewand Philip, Jesus, instead of being exhilarated, as might have beenexpected, was overcome with a spasm of pain, and groaned, "Now is Mysoul troubled, and what shall I say? Father, save Me from this hour. "The sight of these visitors from the outside world made Him feel howgrand and how congenial to Himself would have been a worldwide missionto the heathen, such as He might have undertaken had His life beenprolonged; but this was impossible, because in the flower of His age Hewas to die. The other occasion was the Agony of Gethsemane. A carefuland reverent study will reveal that this incident was the effort bywhich the will of Christ rose into unity with the will of His Father. It belongs to the very essence of human nature that it must grow fromstage to stage; and the perfection of our Lord, just because it washuman, had to realise itself on every step of a ladder of development. He was always both perfect on the stage which He had reached, and atthe same time rising to a higher stage of perfection. Sometimes thestep might be more easy, at other times more difficult; the step whichHe had to take in Gethsemane was supremely difficult; hence the effortand the pain which it cost. It seemed, however, in Gethsemane as if Hehad finally conquered, and it might have been expected that the mood ofweakness and darkness could not come back. Yet it was to be permittedto return once more; and on the cross the attack was far more violentand prolonged than on either of the preceding occasions. Keeping inmind the light which these two previous accesses of the same mood maycast on this one, let us draw near reverently and see how far we may beable to penetrate into the mystery. There can be little doubt that there was a physical element in it. Hehad now been a considerable time on the cross; and every minute theagony was increasing. The wounds in His hands and feet, exposed to theatmosphere and the sun, grew barked and hardened; the blood, impeded inits circulation, swelled in heart and brain, till these organs werelike to burst; and the slightest attempt to move the body from the oneintolerable posture caused pains to shoot along the quivering nerves. Bodily suffering clouds the brain and distorts the images formed on themirror of the mind. Even the face of God, reflected there, may beturned to a shape of terror by the fumes of physical trouble. The horror of mortal suffering may have been greater to Jesus than toother men, because of the fineness and sensitiveness of His physicalorganization. His body had never been coarsened with sin, andtherefore death was utterly alien to it. The stream of physical life, which is one of the precious gifts of God, had poured through His framein abundant and sunny tides. But now it was being withdrawn, and thecounterflow had set in. The unity of a perfect nature was beingviolently torn asunder; and He felt Himself drifting away from theliving world, which to Him had been so full of God's presence andgoodness, into the pale, cold regions of inanity. [2] He did not belongto death; yet He was falling into death's grasp. No angel came torescue Him; God interposed with no miracle to arrest the issue; He wasabandoned to His fate. There was more, however, it is easy to see, in the agony which promptedthis cry than the merely physical. If in Gethsemane we have the effortof the will of Jesus, as it raised itself into unity with the will ofthe Father, we here see the effort of His mind as, amidst the confusionand contradictions of the cross, it finally rose into unity with themind of God. This intellectual character of His pain is indicated bythe word "Why. " It is always painful when the creature has to say Whyto the Creator. We believe that He is Sovereign of the world and Guideof our destiny, and that He urges forward the course of things in thereins of infinite wisdom and love. But, while this is the habitual andhealthy sense of the human mind, especially when it is truly religious, there are crises, both in the great and in the little world, when faithfails. The world is out of joint; everything appears to have gonewrong; the reins seem to have slipped out of the hands of God and thechariot to be plunging forward uncontrolled; the course of things seemsno more to be presided over by reason, but by a blind, if not a cruelfate. It is then that the poor human mind cries out Why. The entirebook of Job is such a cry. Jeremiah cried Why to God in terms ofstartling boldness. In mortal pain, in bewildering disappointments, inbereavements which empty the heart and empty the world, millions havethus cried Why in every age. It seems an irreligious word. WhenJeremiah says, "O Lord, Thou hast deceived me and I was deceived, " orwhen Job demands, "Why did I not from the womb? why did I not give upthe ghost when I came out of the belly?" it sounds like the voice of ablasphemer. But indeed it is into the most earnest and delicate soulsthat this despair is likeliest to slip. The ignorant, the frivolousand the time-serving are safe from it; for they are well enoughsatisfied with things as they are. Callous minds learn to be contentwithout explanations. But the more deeply pious a mind is, the morejealous must it be for justice and the glory of God; the appearance ofunwisdom in the government of the world shocks it; to be able to tracethe footsteps of God's care is a necessity of its existence. Hence itspain when these evidences disappear. Now, all the contradictions andconfusions of the world were focussed on Golgotha. Injustice wastriumphant; innocence was scorned and crushed; everything was exactlythe reverse of what it ought to have been. And all the millions ofWhys which have risen from agonized souls, jealous for the honour ofGod but perplexed by His providence, were concentrated in the Why ofChrist. How near to us He is! Never perhaps in His whole life did He socompletely identify Himself with His poor brethren of mankind. Forhere He comes down to stand by our side not only when we have toencounter pain and misfortune, bereavement and death, but when we areenduring that pain which is beyond all pains, that horror in whosepresence the brain reels, and faith and love, the eyes of life, are putout--the horror of a universe without God, a universe which is onehideous, tumbling, crashing mass of confusion, with no reason to guideand no love to sustain it. Can we advance a step farther into the mystery? The deepest questionof all is whether the desertion of Jesus was subjective orobjective--that is, whether He had only, on account of bodily weaknessand a temporary obscuration of the inward vision, a sense of beingabandoned, or whether, in any real sense, God had actually forsakenHim. Of course we are certain that God was infinitely well pleasedwith Him--never more so, surely, than when He was sacrificing Himselfto the uttermost on behalf of others. But was there, at the same time, any outflashing against Him of the reverse side of the Divinenature--the lightning of the Divine wrath? Calvary was an awfulrevelation of the human heart, whose enmity was directed straightagainst the perfect revelation of the love of God in Christ. There thesin of man reached its climax and did its worst. What was done thereagainst Christ, and against God in Him, was a kind of embodiment andquintessence of the sin of the whole world. And undoubtedly it wasthis which was pressing on Jesus; this was "the travail of His soul. "He was looking close at sin's utmost hideousness; He was sickened withits contact; He was crushed with its brutality--crushed to death. Yetthis human nature was His own; He was identified with it--bone of itsbone, flesh of its flesh; and, as in a reprobate family an exquisitelydelicate and refined sister may feel the whole weight of the debt andshame of the household to lie on herself, so He felt the unworthinessand hopelessness of the race as if they were His own; and, like thescapegoat on whose head the sins of the community were laid in the olddispensation, He went out into the land of forsakenness. Thus far we may proceed, feeling that we have solid ground beneath ourfeet. But many have ventured farther. Even Luther and Calvin allowedthemselves to say that in the hours which preceded this cry our Lordendured the torments of the damned. And Rambach, whose _Meditations onthe Sufferings of Christ_ have fed the piety of Germany for a hundredyears, says: "God was now dealing with Him not as a loving and mercifulfather with his child, but as an offended and righteous judge with anevildoer. The heavenly Father now regards His Son as the greatestsinner to be found beneath the sun, and discharges on Him the wholeweight of His wrath. " But, if we were to make use of such language, weshould be venturing beyond our depth. Much to be preferred is themodest comment of the holy and learned Bengel on our text: "In thisfourth word from the cross our Saviour not only says that He has beendelivered up into the hands of men, but that He has suffered at thehands of God something unutterable. " Certainly there is here somethingunutterable. We have ventured into the mystery as far as we are able;but we know that we are yet only in the shallows near the shore; theunplumbed ocean lies beyond. III. It may appear an affectation to speak of this as in any sense a cry ofvictory. Yet, if what has just been said be true, this, which was theextreme moment of suffering, was also the supreme moment ofachievement. As the flower, by being crushed, yields up its fragrantessence, so He, by taking into His heart the sin of the world, broughtsalvation to the world. In point of fact, all history since has shown that it was in this veryhour that Christ conquered the heart of mankind. Long before He hadsaid, "I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto Me. "And the correctness of this anticipation is matter of history. Christon the cross has ever since then been the most fascinating object inthe eyes of mankind. The mind and heart of humanity have beenirresistibly attracted to Him, never weary of studying Him. And theutterance of this cry is the culminating moment to which the inquiringmind specially turns. Theology has its centre in the cross. Sometimes, indeed, it has been shy of it, and has divagated from it inwide circles; but, as soon as it becomes profound and humble again, italways returns. Yes, when it becomes humble! Penitent souls are drawn to the cross, and the deeper their penitence the more are they at home. They standbeside the dying Saviour and say, This is what we ought to havesuffered; our life was forfeited by our guilt; thus our blood deservedto flow; we might justly have been banished forever into the desert offorsakenness. But, as they thus make confession, their forfeited lifeis given back to them for Christ's sake, the peace of God is shedabroad in their hearts, and the new life of love and service begins. The supreme Christian rite brings us to this very spot and to this verymoment: "This is My blood of the New Testament, shed for many for theremission of sins. " It was not, however, merely in this profound sense that this fourthword of the dying Saviour was a cry of victory. It was so, also, because it liberated Him from His depression. It has been said thatwhen, at His encounter with the Greeks, He groaned, "Father, save Mefrom this hour, " He immediately checked Himself with "Father, glorifyThy name"; likewise that in Gethsemane, when He prayed, "If it bepossible, let this cup pass from Me, " He hastened to add, "Nevertheless, not My will, but Thine be done"; but that on thisoccasion the cry of despair was followed by no word of resignation. This, however, is a mistake. The cry itself, though an utterance ofdespair, yet involved the strongest faith. See how He lays hold of theEternal with both hands: "My God, My God!" It is a prayer: a thousandtimes He had turned to this resource In days of trial; and He does soin this supreme trouble. To do so cures despair. No one is forsakenwho can pray, "My God. " As one in deep water, feeling no bottom, makesa despairing plunge forward and lands on solid ground, so Jesus, in thevery act of uttering His despair, overcame it. Feeling forsaken ofGod, He rushed into the arms of God; and these arms closed round Him inloving protection. Accordingly, as the darkness, which had broodedover all the land, disappeared at the ninth hour, so His mind emergedfrom eclipse; and, as we shall see, His last words were uttered in Hisusual mood of serenity. [1] "My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?" [2] Some of the Fathers thought of the separation of the divine fromthe human nature as taking place now. CHAPTER XVIII. THE FIFTH WORD FROM THE CROSS[1] The fourth word from the cross we looked upon both as the climax of thestruggle which had gone on in the mind of the divine Sufferer duringthe three hours of silence and darkness which preceded its utteranceand as the liberation of His mind from that struggle. This view seemsto be confirmed by the terms in which St. John introduces the FifthWord--"After this, Jesus, knowing that all things were nowaccomplished, [2] that the Scripture might be fulfilled, saith, Ithirst. " The phrase, "that the Scripture might be fulfilled, " is usuallyconnected with the words, "I thirst, " as if the meaning were that Hehad said this fifth word in fulfilment of some prediction that He woulddo so; and the Old Testament is ransacked, without much result, for theprophetic words which may be supposed to be alluded to. It is better, however, to connect the phrase with what goes before--"Jesus, knowingthat all things were now accomplished. " It was only when His work, appointed by God and prescribed in Scripture, was completed, that Hebecame sufficiently conscious of His bodily condition to say, "Ithirst. " Intense mental preoccupation has a tendency to cause theoblivion of bodily wants. Even the excitement of reading a fascinatingbook may keep at a distance for hours the sense of requiring sleep orfood; and it is only when the reader comes out of the trance ofabsorption that he realises how spent he is. During the temptation inthe wilderness Jesus was too absorbed to be aware of His bodilynecessities; but, when the spiritual strain was removed, He "wasafterward an hungered. " In the present instance, when He came out of His spiritual trance, itwas thirst He became conscious of. I remember once talking with aGerman student who had served in the Franco-Prussian War. He waswounded in an engagement near Paris, and lay on the field unable tostir. He did not know exactly what was the nature of his wound, and hethought that he might be dying. The pain was intense; the wounded anddying were groaning round about him; the battle was still raging; andshots were falling and tearing up the ground in all directions. Butafter a time one agony, he told me, began to swallow up all the rest, and soon made him forget his wound, his danger and his neighbours. Itwas the agony of thirst. He would have given the world for a draughtof water. This was the supreme distress of crucifixion. The agoniesof the horrible punishment were of the most excruciating andcomplicated order; but, after a time, they all gathered into onecentral current, in which they were lost and swallowed up--that ofdevouring thirst; and it was this that drew from our Lord the fifthword. [3] I. This was the only cry of physical pain uttered by our Lord on thecross. As was remarked in a previous chapter, it was not uncommon forthe victims of crucifixion, when the ghastly operation of nailing themto the tree began, to writhe and resist, and to indulge either inabject entreaties to be saved from the inevitable or in wild defianceof their fate. But at this stage Jesus uttered never a word ofcomplaint. Afterwards also, in spite of the ever-increasing pain, Hepreserved absolute self-control. He was absorbed either in caring forothers or in prayer to God. It is a sublime example of patience. It rebukes our softness andintolerance of pain. How easily we are made to cry out; how peevishand ill-tempered we become under slight annoyances! A headache, atoothache, a cold, or some other slight affair, is supposed to be asufficient justification for losing all self-control and making a wholehousehold uncomfortable. Suffering does not always sanctify. It sourssome tempers and makes them selfish and exacting. This is thebesetting sin of invalids--to become absorbed in their own miseries andto make all about them the slaves of their caprices. But many triumphnobly over their temptation; and in this they are following the exampleof the suffering Saviour. There are sick-rooms which it is a privilegeto visit. You may know that the place is a scene of excruciating pain;but on the pillow there lies a sweet, patient face; the voice ischeerful and thankful; and, instead of being self-absorbed, the mind isfull of unselfish thoughts for others. I recall the description givenby a friend of one such invalid's chamber, which used to be filled withthe most beautiful cheerfulness and activity. At a certain time ofyear you might see in it quite an exhibition of stockings, pinafores, dresses and other pretty things, prepared for the children of amission-school in India. By thinking of the needs of those childrenfar away the invalid not only kept her own sufferings at bay, butcreated for herself delightful connections with God's work and God'speople. Yet she was one who might easily have asserted the right to donothing, and have taxed the patience and the services of those by whomshe was surrounded. But there is another lesson besides patience in this word of Christ. He only uttered one word of physical pain; but He did utter one. Hisself-control was not proud or sullen. There is a silence in sufferingthat is mere doggedness, when we screw our courage to thesticking-place and resolve that nobody shall hear any complaint fromus. We succeed in being silent, but it is with a bad grace: there isno love or patience in our hearts, but only selfish determination. This is especially a temptation when anyone has injured us and we donot wish to let him see how much we have suffered, lest he should begratified. Jesus was surrounded by those who had wantonly wronged Him;not only had they inflicted pain, but they had laughed and mocked atHis sufferings. He might have resolved not on any account to show Hisfeelings or at least to ask any kindness. It is sometimes moredifficult to ask a favour than to grant one; it requires more of thespirit of forgiveness. [4] But not only did Jesus ask a favour: Heexpected to receive it. Shamefully as He had been treated by those towhom He had to appeal, He believed that there might still be someremains of goodness at the bottom of their hearts. All His life He hadbeen wont to discover more good in the worst than others believed toexist, and to the last He remained true to His own faith. The maxim ofthe world is to take all men for rogues till the reverse has beenproved. Especially when people have enemies, they believe the own veryworst of them and paint their characters without a single streak of anycolour but black. To those from whom we differ in opinion we attributethe basest motives and refuse to hear any good of them. But this isnot the way of Christ: He believed there were some drops of the milk ofhuman kindness even in the hard-hearted Roman soldiers; and He was notdisappointed. [5] II. It is impossible to hear this pathetic cry, so expressive ofhelplessness and dependence, without recalling other words of our Lordto which it stands in marked contrast. Can this be He who, standing inJerusalem not long before, surrounded with a great multitude, lifted upHis voice and cried, "If any man thirst, let him come unto Me anddrink"? Can it be He who, standing at the well of Jacob with theSamaritan woman and pointing to the springing fountain at their feet, said, "Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again; butwhosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall neverthirst; but the water that I shall give shall be in him a well of waterspringing up into everlasting life"? Can He who in words like theseoffered to quench the thirst of the world be the same who now whispersin mortal exhaustion, "I thirst"? It is the same; and this is a contrast which runs through His wholelife, the contrast between inward wealth and outward poverty. He wasable to enrich the whole world, yet He had to be supported by thecontributions of the women who followed Him; He could say, "I am thebread of life, " yet He sometimes hungered for a meal; He could promisethrones and many mansions to those who believed on Him, yet He saidHimself, "Foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, yetthe Son of man hath not where to lay His head. " In a materialistic age, when in so many circles money is the measure ofthe man, and when people are so excessively concerned about what theyshall eat and what they shall drink and wherewithal they shall beclothed, it is worth while to bear this contrast in mind. Seldom havethe noblest specimens of humanity been those who have been able towallow in luxury; and the men who have enriched the world with thetreasures of the mind have not infrequently been hardly able to procuredaily bread. Our older boys may have seen on some of theirschool-books the name of Heyne. His is an immortal name in classicalscholarship; but when he was a student, and even when he was enrichingthe literature of his country with splendid editions of the ancientwriters, he was literally starving, and had sometimes to subsist onskins of apples and other offal picked up from the streets. Our ownSamuel Johnson, to whose wisdom the whole globe is now a debtor, whenengaged on some of his greatest works, had not shoes in which to goout, and did not know where his dinner was to come from. It would beeasy from history to multiply instances of those who, though poor, yethave made many rich. The inference is not, that one must be poor externally if one desiresto be inwardly rich. The materially poor are not all spiritually richby any means; multitudes of them, alas, are as poverty-stricken in mindand character as in physical condition. Perhaps one might even go sofar as to say that as a rule the inwardly rich enjoy at least acompetent portion of the good things of this life; for intelligence andcharacter have even a market value, Money, too, can be made subservientto the highest aims of the soul. But what it is essential to rememberis, that the inward is the true wealth, and that we must seek andobtain it, even, if necessary, at the sacrifice of the outward. Iflife is not to be impoverished and materialised, some in every age mustmake the choice between the inward and the outward wealth; and no oneis worthy to be the servant of scholarship, art or religion who is notprepared for the choice should it fall to him. It is by the possessionof intelligence, generosity and spiritual power that we enter into thehigher ranks of manhood; and the most Christlike trait of all is tohave the will and the ability to overflow in influences and activitieswhich sweeten and elevate the lives of others. III. It would appear that some of those round the cross were opposed togranting the request of Jesus. Misunderstanding the fourth word, [6]they supposed He was calling for Elijah; and they proposed not to helpHim even with a drink of water, in order to see whether or not Elijahwould come to the rescue. But in one man the impulse of humanity wastoo strong, and he gave Jesus what He desired. We almost love the manfor it, and we envy his office. But the Saviour is still saying, "I thirst. " How and where? Listen!"I was thirsty, and ye gave Me drink. " "Lord, when saw we Thee athirstand gave Thee drink?" "Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least ofthese My brethren, ye did it unto Me. " Wherever the brothers andsisters of Jesus are suffering, sitting in lonely rooms and wishingthat somebody would come and visit them, or lying on beds of pain andneeding somebody to come and ease the pillow or to reach the cup to thedry lips, there Christ is saying, "I thirst. " Perhaps He is saying it in vain. There are multitudes of professingChristians who never from end to end of the year visit any poor person. They never thread the obscure streets or ascend the grimy stairs insearch of God's hidden ones. They have never acquired the art ofcheering a dark home with a flower, or a hymn, or a diet, or the touchof a sympathetic hand and the smile of a healthy face. It wouldcompletely alter the Christianity of many if they could begin to dothese lowly services; it would put reality into it, and it would bringinto the heart a joy and exhilaration hitherto unknown. For Christsees to it that none who thus serve Him lose their reward. An Americanfriend told me that once, when travelling on the continent of Europe, he fell in with a fellow-countryman on board a Rhine steamer. Theytalked about America and soon confided to each other from which partsof the country they came, with other fragments of personal detail. They continued to travel for some days together, and my informant wasso overwhelmed with kindness by his companion that at last he venturedto ask the reason. "Well, " rejoined the other, "when the War was goingon, I was serving in your native state; and one day our march laythrough the town in which you have told me you were born. The marchhad been very prolonged; it was a day of intense heat; I was utterlyfatigued and felt on the point of dying for thirst, when a kind womancame out of one of the houses and gave me a glass of cold water. And Ihave been trying to repay through you, her fellow-townsman, thekindness she showed to me. " Does it not remind us of the great word ofthe Son of God, "Whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these littleones a cup of cold water only in the name of a disciple, verily I sayunto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward"? But is this not enough? Does anyone wish to get still nearer to Christand hold the cup not only to Him in the person of His members but toHis own very lips? Well, this is possible too. Jesus still says, "Ithirst. " He thirsts for love. He thirsts for prayer. He thirsts forservice. He thirsts for holiness. Whenever the heart of a human beingturns to Him with a genuine impulse of penitence, affection orconsecration, the Saviour sees of the travail of His soul and issatisfied. [1] "I thirst. " [2] _tetelestai_--the very word of Jesus Himself--"It is finished--"which may possibly have been fourth. [3] He had by this time been on the cross for four hours or more. Thearrest took place about midnight; the ecclesiastical trial terminatedabout sunrise; the proceedings before Pilate occupied perhaps from sixto nine, or rather more; the crucifixion took place towards noon; fromnoon till three o'clock darkness prevailed; and between this and sunsetthe death and burial took place. See Matt. Xxvii. 1; Mark xv. 25, 33, 34, 42. St. John's statement of time, xix. 14, is a difficulty. Heappears to reckon from a different starting-point. See Andrews' _Lifeof Our Lord_ (new edition), pp. 545 ff. In the same passage St. Johnsays, "It was the preparation of the passover"; does this mean the daybefore the feast commenced, or the day before the Sabbath of PassoverWeek? There are held to be other indications that St. John representsthe crucifixion as having taken place the day before the Passoverbegan, whereas the Synoptists place it the day after (especially Johnxviii. 28, where the question is whether "the passover" means thePaschal Lamb or the Chagigah, a portion of the feast belonging to thesecond day). On this question there is an extensive literature. SeeAndrews, 452-81, and Keim, vol. Vi. , pp. 195-219. [4] "To be in too great a hurry to discharge an obligation is itself akind of ingratitude. "--LA ROCHEFOUCAULD. [5] Hoffmann says that Jesus refused the intoxicating draught, beforethe crucifixion began, that His senses might be kept clear; and thatnow He accepted the refreshing draught for the same purpose. [6] "Eli, Eli, " etc. CHAPTER XIX. THE SIXTH WORD FROM THE CROSS[1] Like the Fifth, the Sixth Word from the Cross is, in the Greek, literally a single word; and it has been often affirmed to be thegreatest single word ever uttered. It may be said to comprehend initself the salvation of the world; and thousands of human souls, in theagony of conviction or in the crisis of death, have laid hold of it asthe drowning sailor grasps the life-buoy. Sometimes it has been interpreted as merely the last sign of ebbinglife: as if the meaning were, It is all over; this long agony of painand weakness is done at last. But the dying words of Jesus were notspoken in this tone. The Fifth Word, we are expressly told, wasuttered with a loud voice; so was the Seventh; and, although this isnot expressly stated about the Sixth, the likelihood is that, in thisrespect, it resembled the other two. It was not a cry of defeat, butof victory. Both the suffering of our Lord and His work were finishing together;and it is natural to suppose that He was referring to both. Sufferingand work are the two sides of every life, the one predominating in somecases and the other in others. In the experience of Jesus both wereprominent: He had both a great work to accomplish and He sufferedgreatly in the process of achieving it. But now both have been broughtto a successful close; and this is what the Sixth Word expresses. Itis, therefore, first, the Worker's Cry of Achievement; and, secondly, the Sufferer's Cry of Relief. I. Christ, when on earth, had a great work on hand, which was now finished. This dying word carries us back to the first word from His lips whichhas been preserved to us: "Wist ye not that I must be about my Father'sbusiness?" Even at twelve years of age He already knew that there wasa business entrusted to Him by His Father in heaven, about which Histhoughts had to be occupied. We cannot perhaps say that then alreadyHe comprehended it in its whole extent. It was to grow upon Him withthe development of His manhood. In lonely meditations in the fieldsand pastures of Nazareth it seized and inspired His mind. As Hecultivated the life of prayer, it became more and more His settledpurpose. The more He became acquainted with human nature, and with thecharacter and the needs of His own age, the more clearly did it risebefore Him. As He heard and read the Scriptures of the Old Testament, He saw it hinted and foreshadowed in type and symbol, in rite andinstitution, in law and prophets. There He found the programme of Hislife sketched out beforehand; and perhaps one of His uppermostthoughts, when He said, "It is finished, " was that all which had beenforetold about Him in the ancient Scriptures had been fulfilled. After His public life commenced, the sense of being charged with a taskwhich He had to fulfil was one of the master-thoughts of His life. Itwas written on His very face and bodily gait. He never had the easy, indeterminate air of one who does not know what He means to do in theworld. "I have a baptism, " He would say, "to be baptized with, and howam I straitened till it be accomplished. " In a rapt moment, at thewell of Sychar, after His interview with the Samaritan woman, when Hisdisciples proffered Him food, He put it away from Him, saying, "I havemeat to eat that ye know not of, " and He added, "My meat is to do thewill of Him that sent Me and to finish His work. " On His last journeyto Jerusalem, as He went on in front of His disciples, they were amazedand, as they followed, they were afraid. His purpose possessed Him; Hewas wholly in it, body, soul and spirit. He bestowed on it every scrapof power He possessed, and every moment of His time. Looking back nowfrom the close of life, He has not to regret that any talent has beeneither abused or left unused. All have been husbanded for the onepurpose and all lavished on the work. What was this work of Christ? In what terms shall we express it? Atall events it was a greater work than any other son of man has everattempted. Men have attempted much, and some of them have giventhemselves to their chosen enterprises with extraordinary devotion andtenacity. The conqueror has devoted himself to his scheme of subduingthe world; the patriot to the liberation of his country; thephilosopher to the enlargement of the realm of knowledge; the inventorhas rummaged with tireless industry among the secrets of nature; andthe discoverer has risked his life in opening up untrodden continentsand died with his face to his task. But none ever undertook a taskworthy to be compared with that which engrossed the mind of Jesus. It was a work for God with men, and it was a work for men with God. The thought that it was a work for God, with which God had charged Him, was often in Christ's mouth, and this consciousness was one of thechief sources of His inspiration. "I must work the work of Him thatsent Me while it is day, " He would say; or, "Therefore doth my Fatherlove Me, because I do always those things which please Him. " And, atthe close of His life-work, He said, in words closely related to thoseof our text, "I have glorified Thee on the earth, I have finished thework which Thou gavest Me to do. " This was His task, to glorify God onthe earth--to make known the Father to the children of men. But just as obviously was it a work for men with God. This was stampedon all His words and on the entire tenor of His life. He was bringingmen back to God, and He had to remove the obstacles which stood in theway. He had to roll away the stone from the sepulchre in whichhumanity was entombed and call the dead to come forth. He had to pressHis weight against the huge iron gates of human guilt and doom andforce them open. He had done so; and, as He said, "It is finished, " Hewas at the same time saying to all mankind, "Behold, I have set beforeyou an open door, and no man can shut it. " The more difficult and prolonged any task is, the greater is thesatisfaction of finishing it. Everyone knows what it is, afteraccomplishing anything on which a great deal of labour has beenbestowed or the accomplishment of which has been delayed, to be able tosay, "There; it is finished at last. " In the more signal efforts ofhuman genius and energy there is a satisfaction of final achievementwhich warms even spectators with sympathy at the distance of hundredsof years. What must it be to the poet, after equipping himself by thelabours of a lifetime with the stores of knowledge and the skill in theuse of language requisite for the composition of a "Divine Comedy" or a"Paradise Lost, " and after wearing himself lean for many years at histask, to be able at last, when the final line has been penned, to writeFinis at the bottom of his performance? What must it have been toColumbus, after he had worn his life out in seeking the patronagenecessary for his undertaking and endured the perils of voyaging instormy seas and among mutinous mariners, to see at last the sunlight onthe peak of Darien which informed him that his dream was true and hislifework accomplished? When we read how William Wilberforce, thechampion of Slave Emancipation, heard on his deathbed, a few hoursbefore he breathed his last, that the British Legislature had agreed tothe expenditure necessary to secure the object to which he hadsacrificed his life, what heart can refuse its tribute of sympatheticjoy, as it thinks of him expiring with the shouts of emancipatedmillions in his ears? These are feeble suggestions of the triumph withwhich Christ saw, fallen behind Him, His accomplished task, as Hecried, "It is finished. " II. If Jesus had during life a vast work on hand which He was able on thecross to say He had finished, He was in quite as exceptional a degree asufferer; yet on the cross He was able to say that His suffering alsowas finished. Suffering is the reverse side of work. It is the shadow thataccompanies achievement, as his shadow follows a man. It is due to theresistance offered to the worker by the medium in which he toils. The life of Jesus was one of great suffering, because He had to do Hiswork in an extremely resistant medium. His purpose was so beneficent, and His passion for the good of the world so obvious, that it mighthave been expected that He would meet with nothing but encouragementand furtherance. He was so religious that all the religious forcesmight have been expected to second His efforts; He was so patrioticthat it would have been natural if His native country had welcomed Himwith open arms; He was so philanthropic that He ought to have been theidol of the multitude. But at every step He met with opposition. Everything that was influential in His age and country turned againstHim. Obstruction became more and more persistent and cruel, till atlength on Calvary it reached its climax, when all the powers of earthand hell were combined with the one purpose of crushing Him andthrusting Him out of existence. And they succeeded. But the mystery of suffering is very insufficiently explained when itis defined as the reaction of the work on the worker. While a man'swork is what he does with the force of his will, suffering is what isdone to him against his will. It may be done by the will of opponentsand enemies. But this is never the whole explanation. Above thiswill, which may be thoroughly evil, there is a will which is good andmeans us good by our suffering. Suffering is the will of God. It is His chief instrument forfashioning His creatures according to His own plan. While by our workwe ought to be seeking to make a bit of the world such as He would haveit to be, by our suffering He is seeking to make us such as He wouldhave us to be. He blocks up our pathway by it on this side and onthat, in order that we may be kept in the path which He has appointed. He prunes our desires and ambitions; He humbles us and makes us meekand acquiescent. By our work we help to make a well-ordered world, butby our suffering He makes a sanctified man; and in His eyes this is byfar the greater triumph. Perhaps this is the most difficult half of life to manage. While it isby no means easy to accomplish the work of life, it is harder still tobear suffering and to benefit by it. Have you ever seen a man to whomnature had given great talents and grace great virtues, so that thepossibilities of his life seemed unbounded, while he had imaginationenough to expatiate over them: a man who might have been a missionary, opening up dark countries to civilisation and the gospel; or astatesman, swaying a parliament with his eloquence and shaping thedestinies of millions by his wisdom; or a thinker, wrestling with theproblems of the age, sowing the seeds of light, and raising for himselfan imperishable monument: but who was laid hold of by some remorselessdisease or suddenly crushed by some accident; so that all at once hisschemes were upset and his life narrowed to petty anxieties about hishealth and shifts to avoid the evil day, which could not, however, belong postponed? And did it not seem to you, as you watched him, to befar harder for him to accept this destiny with a good grace and withcheerful submission than it would have been to accomplish the career ofenterprise and achievement which once seemed to lie before him? To donothing is often more difficult than to do the greatest things, and tosubmit requires more faith than to achieve. The life of Christ was hemmed and crushed in on every hand. Evil menwere the proximate cause of this; but He acknowledged behind them thewill of God. He had to accept a career of shame instead of glory, ofbrief and limited activity instead of far-travelling beneficence, ofpremature and violent death instead of world-wide and everlastingempire. But He never murmured; however bitter any sacrifice might beon other grounds, He made it sweet to Himself by reflecting that it wasthe will of His Father. When the worst came to the worst, and He wasforced to cry, "If it be possible, let this cup pass from Me, " He wasswift to add, "Nevertheless not My will, but Thine, be done. " And thuson step after step of the ladder His thoughts were brought into perfectaccord with His Father's, and His will with His Father's will. At last on the cross the cup out of which He had drunk so often was putinto His hands for the last time. The draught was large, black andbitter as never before. But He did not flinch. He drank it up. As Hedid so, the last segment of the circle of His own perfection completeditself; and, while, flinging the cup away after having exhausted thelast drop, He cried, "It is finished, " the echo came back from heavenfrom those who saw with wonder and adoration the perfect round of Hiscompleted character, "It is finished. " Though these two sides of the life of Christ are separable in thought, it is evident that they constitute together but one life. [2] The workHe did involved the suffering which He bore and lent to it meaning anddignity. On the other hand, the suffering perfected the Worker andthus conferred greatness on His work. In His crowning task of atoningfor the sin of the world it was as a sufferer that He accomplished thewill of God. And now both are finished; and henceforward the world hasa new possession: it has had other perfect things; but never before andnever since has it had a perfect life. [1] "It is finished. " [2] Sometimes they are expressed by saying that life is both a Missionand a Discipline. CHAPTER XX. THE SEVENTH WORD FROM THE CROSS[1] While all the words of dying persons are full of interest, there isspecial importance attached to the last of them. This is the Last Wordof Jesus; and both for this reason and for others it claims particularattention. A noted Englishman is recorded to have said, when on his deathbed, to anephew, "Come near and see how a Christian can die. " Whether or notthat was a wise saying, certainly to learn how to die is one of themost indispensable acquirements of mortals; and nowhere can it belearnt so well as by studying the death of Christ. This Last Wordespecially teaches us how to die. It will, however, teach us far more, if we have the wit to learn: it contains not only the art of dying butalso the art of living. I. The final word of the dying Saviour was a prayer. Not all the wordsfrom the cross were prayers. One was addressed to the penitent thief, another to His mother and His favourite disciple, and a third to thesoldiers who were crucifying Him; but prayer was distinctly thelanguage of His dying hours. It was not by chance that His very lastword was a prayer; for the currents within Him were all flowingGodwards. While prayer is appropriate for all times and seasons, there areoccasions when it is singularly appropriate. At the close of the day, when we are about to enter into the state of sleep, which is an imageof death, the most natural of all states of mind is surely prayer. Inmoments of mortal peril, as on shipboard when a multitude are suddenlyconfronted with death, an irresistible impulse presses men to theirknees. At the communion table, when the bread and the wine arecirculating in silence, every thoughtful person is inevitably occupiedwith prayer. But on a death-bed it is more in its place than anywhereelse. Then we are perforce parting with all that is earthly--withrelatives and friends, with business and property, with the comforts ofhome and the face of the earth. How natural to lay hold of what alonewe can keep hold of; and this is what prayer does; for it lays hold ofGod. It is so natural to pray then that prayer might be supposed to be aninvariable element of the last scenes. But it is not always. Adeath-bed without God is an awful sight; yet it does occur. Thecurrents of the mind may be flowing so powerfully earthward that eventhen they cannot be diverted. There are even death-beds where thethought of God is a terror which the dying man keeps away; andsometimes his friends assist him to keep it away, suffering none to beseen and nothing to be said that could call God to mind. Natural asprayer is, it is only so to those who have learned to pray before. Ithad long been to Jesus the language of life. He had prayed withoutceasing--on the mountain-top and in the busy haunts of men, by Himselfand in company with others--and it was only the bias of the lifeasserting itself in death when, as He breathed His last, He turned toGod. If, then, we would desire our last words to be words of prayer, weshould commence to pray at once. If the face of God is to shine on ourdeath-bed, we must now acquaint ourselves with Him and be at peace. If, as we look upon the dying Christ or on the dying saints, we say, "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be likehis, " then we must begin now to live the life of the righteous and topractise its gracious habits. II. The last word of the dying Saviour was a quotation from Scripture. This was not the first time our Lord quoted Scripture on the cross: Hisgreat cry, "My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?" was likewiseborrowed from the Old Testament, and it is possible that there isScriptural allusion in others of the Seven Words. If prayer is natural to the lips of the dying, so is Scripture. Fordifferent seasons and for different uses there is special suitabilityin different languages and literatures. Latin is the language of lawand scholarship, French of conversation and diplomacy, German ofphilosophy, English of commerce. But in the most sacred moments andtransactions of life there is no language like that of the Bible. Especially is this the case in everything connected with death. On atombstone, for example, how irrelevant, as a rule, seem all otherquotations, but how perfect is the fitness of a verse from Scripture. And on a death-bed there are no words which so well become the dyinglips. This is strikingly illustrated by the following extract, guaranteed asauthentic, from a private diary:--"I remember, when I was a student, visiting a dying man. He had been in the university with me, but a fewyears ahead; and, at the close of a brilliant career in college, he wasappointed to a professorship of philosophy in a colonial university. But, after a very few years, he fell into bad health; and he came hometo Scotland to die. It was a summer Sunday afternoon when I called tosee him, and it happened that I was able to offer him a drive. Hisgreat frame was with difficulty got into the open carriage; but then helay back comfortably and was able to enjoy the fresh air. Two otherfriends were with him that day--college companions, who had come outfrom the city to visit him. On the way back they dropped into therear, and I was alone beside him, when he began to talk withappreciation of their friendship and kindness. 'But, ' he said, 'do youknow what they have been doing all day?' I could not guess. 'Well, 'he said, 'they have been reading to me _Sartor Resartus_; and oh! I amawfully tired of it. ' Then, turning on me his large eyes, he began torepeat, 'This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, thatJesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief;'and then he added with great earnestness, 'There is nothing else of anyuse to me now. ' I had not opened the subject at all: perhaps I wasafraid to introduce it to one whom I felt to be so much my superior;but I need not say how overjoyed I was to obtain such a glimpse intothe very depths of a great, true mind. " _Sartor Resartus_ is one ofthe best of books; there are few to be so heartily recommended. Yetthere are moments in life--and those immediately before death are amongthem--when even such a book may be felt to be irrelevant, and, indeed, no book is appropriate except the one which contains the words ofeternal life. It is worth noting from which portion of the Old Testament Jesusfetched the word on which He stayed up His soul in this supreme moment. The quotation is from the thirty-first Psalm. The other great worduttered on the cross to which I have already alluded was also takenfrom one of the Psalms--the twenty-second. This is undoubtedly themost precious of all the books of the Old Testament. It is a bookpenned as with the life-blood of its authors; it is the record ofhumanity's profoundest sorrows and sublimest ecstasies; it is the mostperfect expression which has ever been given to experience; it has beenthe _vade-mecum_ of all the saints; and to know and love it is one ofthe best signs of spirituality. Jesus knew where to go in the Bible for the language that suited Him;for He had been a diligent student of it all His days. He heard it inthe home of His childhood; He listened to it in the synagogue; probablyHe got the use of the synagogue rolls and hung over it in secret. Heknew it through and through. Therefore, when He became a preacher, Hislanguage was saturated with it, and in controversy, by the apt use ofit, He could put to shame those who were its professional students. But in His private life likewise He employed it in every exigency. Hefought with it the enemy in the wilderness and overcame him; and now, in the supreme need of a dying hour, it stood Him in good stead. It isto those who, like Jesus, have hidden God's Word in their hearts thatit is a present help in every time of need; and, if we wish to stayourselves upon it in dying, we ought to make it the man of our counselin living. It is worth observing in what manner Jesus made this quotation from thePsalter: He added something at the beginning and He omitted somethingat the close. At the beginning He added, "Father. " This is not in thepsalm. It could not have been. In the Old Testament the individualhad not begun yet to address God by this name, though God was calledthe Father of the nation as a whole. The new consciousness of Godwhich Christ introduced into the world is embodied in this word, and, by prefixing it to the citation, He gave the verse a new colouring. Wemay, then, do this with the Old Testament: we may put New-Testamentmeaning into it. Indeed, in connection with this very verse we have astill more remarkable illustration of the same treatment. Stephen, thefirst martyr of Christianity, was in many respects very like hisMaster, and in his martyrdom closely imitated Him. Thus on the fieldof death he repeated Christ's prayer for His enemies--"Lord, lay notthis sin to their charge. " Also, he imitated this final word, but heput it in a new form, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit;" that is, headdressed to Christ the dying prayer which Christ Himself addressed tothe Father. [2] The other alteration which Jesus made was the omissionof the words, "for Thou hast redeemed me. " It would not have beenfitting for Him to employ them. But we will not omit them; and if, like Stephen, we address the prayer to Christ, how much richer and morepathetic are the words to us than they were even to him who firstpenned them. III. It was about His spirit that the dying Saviour prayed. Dying persons are sometimes much taken up with their bodies. Theirpain and trouble may occasion this, and the prescriptions of thephysician may require close attention. Some display a peculiar anxietyeven about what is to happen to the body after the life has left it, giving the minutest instructions as to their own obsequies. Notinfrequently the minds of the dying are painfully occupied with theirworldly affairs: they have their property to dispose of, and they aredistracted with anxieties about their families. The example of Jesusshows that it is not wrong to bestow attention on these things even ona deathbed; for His fifth word, "I thirst, " had reference to His ownbodily necessities; and, whilst hanging on the cross, He made provisionfor His mother's future comfort. But His supreme concern was Hisspirit; to the interests of which He devoted His final prayer. What is the spirit? It is the finest, highest, sacredest part of ourbeing. In modern and ordinary language we call it the soul, when wespeak of man as composed of body and soul; but in the language ofScripture it is distinguished even from the soul as the most lofty andexquisite part of the inner man. It is to the rest of our nature whatthe flower is to the plant or what the pearl is to the shell. It isthat within us which is specially allied to God and eternity. It isalso, however, that which sin seeks to corrupt and our spiritualenemies seek to destroy. No doubt these are specially active in thearticle of death; it is their last chance; and fain would they seizethe spirit as it parts from the body and, dragging it down, rob it ofits destiny. Jesus knew that He was launching out into eternity; and, plucking His spirit away from these hostile hands which were eager toseize it, He placed it in the hands of God. There it was safe. Strongand secure are the hands of the Eternal. They are soft and loving too. With what a passion of tenderness must they have received the spirit ofJesus. "I have covered thee, " said God to His servant in an ancientprophecy, "in the shadow of My hand;" and now Jesus, escaping from allthe enemies, visible and invisible, by whom He was beset, sought thefulfilment of this prophecy. This is the art of dying; but is it not also the art of living? Thespirit of every son of Adam is threatened by dangers at death; but itis threatened with them also in life. As has been said, it is ourflower and our pearl; but the flower may be crushed and the pearl maybe lost long before death arrives. "The flesh lusteth against thespirit. " So does the world. Temptation assails it, sin denies it. Nobetter prayer, therefore, could be offered by a living man, morning bymorning, than this of the dying Saviour. Happy is he who can say, inreference to his spirit, "I know whom I have believed, and I ampersuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed to Himagainst that day. " IV. This last word of the expiring Saviour revealed His view of death. The word used by Jesus in commending His spirit to God implies that Hewas giving it away in the hope of finding it again. He was making adeposit in a safe place, to which, after the crisis of death was over, He would come and recover it. Such is the force of the word, as iseasily seen in the quotation just made from St. Paul, where he saysthat he knows that God will keep that which he has committed toHim--using the same word as Jesus--"against that day. " [3] Which day?Obviously some point in the future when he could appear and claim fromGod that which he had entrusted to Him. Such a date was also inChrist's eye when He said, "Father, into Thy hands I commend myspirit. " Death is a disruption of the parts of which human nature iscomposed. One part--the spirit--was going away to God; another was inthe hands of men, who were wreaking on it their wicked will; and it wason its way to the house appointed for all living. But Jesus waslooking forward to a reunion of the separated parts, when they wouldagain find each other, and the integrity of the personal life berestored. The most momentous question which the dying can ask, or which theliving can ask in the prospect of death, is, "If a man die, shall helive again?" does he all die? and does he die forever? There is aterrible doubt in the human heart that it may be so; and there havenever been wanting teachers who have turned this doubt into a dogma. They hold that mind is only a form or a function of matter, and that, therefore, in the dissolution of the bodily materials, man dissolvesand mixes with the material universe. Others, while holding fast thedistinction between mind and matter, have taught that, as the bodyreturns to the dust, the mind returns to the ocean of being, in whichits personality is lost, as the drop is in the sea, and there can be noreunion. There is, however, something high and sacred within us thatrebels against these doctrines; and the best teachers of the race haveencouraged us to hope for something better. Still, their assuranceshave been hesitating and their own faith obscure. It is to Christ wehave to go: He has the words of eternal life. He spoke on this subjectwithout hesitation or obscurity; and His dying word proves that Hebelieved for Himself what He taught to others. Not only, however, hasHe by His teaching brought life and immortality to light: He is Himselfthe guarantee of the doctrine; for He is our immortal life. Because weare united to Him we know we can never perish; nothing, not even death, can separate us from His love; "Because I live, " He has said, "ye shalllive also. " It may be that in a very literal sense we have in the study of thissentence been learning the art of dying: these may be our own dyingwords. They have been the dying words of many. When John Huss wasbeing led to execution, there was stuck on his head a paper cap, scrawled over with pictures of devils, to whom the wretched priests bywhom he was surrounded consigned his soul; but again and again hecried, "Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit. " These were alsothe last words of Polycarp, of Jerome of Prague, of Luther, ofMelanchthon, and of many others. Who could wish his spirit to becarried away to God in a more glorious vehicle? But, whether or not wemay use this prayer in death, let us diligently make use of it in life. Close not the book without breathing, "Father, into Thy hands I commendmy spirit. " [1] "Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit. " [2] The first business of the interpreter of Scripture is to find outprecisely what every verse or paragraph meant at the time and placewhere it was written; and there is endless profit in the exactdetermination of this original application. But, whilst theinterpreter's task begins, it does not end with this. The Bible is abook for every generation; and the deduction of the message which it isintended to convey to the present day is as truly the task of theinterpreter. There is a species of exegesis, sometimes arrogating toitself the sole title to be considered scientific, by which the gardenof Scripture is transmuted into an herbarium of withered specimens. [3] Christ's word is _paratithemai_, and St. Paul's, 2 Tim. I. 12, _tenparatheken mou_, according to the best reading. CHAPTER XXI. THE SIGNS There are indications that to some of those who took part in thecrucifixion of Christ His death presented hardly anything todistinguish it from an ordinary execution; and there were others whowere anxious to believe that it had no features which wereextraordinary. But God did not leave His Son altogether withoutwitness. The end of the Saviour's sufferings was accompanied bycertain signs, which showed the interest excited by them in the worldunseen. I. The first sign was the rending of the veil of the temple. This was aheavy curtain covering the entrance to the Holy Place or the entranceto the Holy of Holies--most probably the latter. Both entrances werethus protected, and Josephus gives the following description of one ofthe curtains, which will probably convey a fair idea of either; fiveells high and sixteen broad, of Babylonian texture, and wonderfullystitched of blue, white, scarlet and purple--representing the universein its four elements--scarlet standing for fire and blue for air bytheir colours, and the white linen for earth and the purple for sea onaccount of their derivation, the one, from the flax of the earth andthe other from the shellfish of the sea. The fact that the rent proceeded from top to bottom was considered toindicate that it was made by the finger of God; but whether anyphysical means may have been employed we cannot tell. Some havethought of the earthquake, which took place at the same moment, asbeing connected with it through the loosening of a beam or some similaraccident. [1] At critical moments in history, when the minds of men are charged withexcitement, even slight accidents may assume remarkablesignificance. [2] Such incidents occur at turning-points of the lifeeven of individuals. [3] They derive their significance from theemotion with which the minds of observers happen at the time to befilled. No doubt the rending of the temple veil might appear to some apure accident, while in the minds of others it crystallised a hundredsurging thoughts. But we must ascribe to it a higher dignity and adivine intention. Like the pillar of cloud and fire in the wilderness, it had a doubleface--one of judgment and another of mercy. It betokened the desecration of the shrine and the exodus of the Deityfrom the temple whose day of opportunity and usefulness was over. Andit is curious to note how at the time not only the Christian but eventhe Jewish mind was big with this thought. There is a Jewish legend inJosephus, which is referred to also by the Roman historian Tacitus, that at the Passover some years after this the east door of the innercourt of the temple, which was so heavy that twenty men were requiredto close it, and was, besides, at the moment strongly locked andbarred, suddenly at midnight flew open; and, the following Pentecost, the priests whose duty it was to guard the court by night, heard firsta rushing noise as of hurrying feet and then a loud cry, as of manyvoices, saying, "Let us depart from hence. " Nor was it only in Palestine that in that age the air was charged withthe impression that a turning-point in history had been reached, andthat the ancient world was passing away. Plutarch[4] heard a singularstory of one Epitherses from the rhetorician Aemilianus, who had itfrom the man's father. On a certain occasion this Epitherses happenedto be a passenger on board a ship which got becalmed among theEchinades. As it stood near one of the islands, suddenly there camefrom the shore a voice, loud and clear, calling Thamus, the pilot, anEgyptian, by his name. Twice he kept silence; but, when the call camethe third time, he replied; whereupon the voice cried still louder, "When you come to the Paludes, proclaim that the great Pan is dead. "Pan being the god of nature in that ancient world, all who heard wereterrified, and they debated whether or not they should obey thecommand. At last it was agreed that if, when they came to the Paludes, it was windy, they were not to obey, but, if calm, they would. Itturned out to be calm; and, accordingly, the pilot, standing on theprow of the vessel, shouted out the words; whereupon the air wasfilled, not with an echo, but the loud groaning of a great multitudemingled with surprise. [5] The pilot was called before the EmperorTiberius, who strictly enquired into the truth of the incident. Such was the meaning of the rending of the veil on its dark side: itdenoted that the reign of the gods was over and that Jerusalem was nolonger to be the place where men ought to worship. But it had at thesame time a bright side; and this was the side for the sake of whichthe incident was treasured by the friends of Jesus. It meant, as St. Paul says, that the wall between Jew and Gentile had been broken down. It meant, as is set forth in the noble argument of the Epistle to theHebrews, that the system of ceremonies and intermediaries by whichunder the Old Testament the worshipper might approach God and yet waskept at a distance from Him had been swept away. The heart of God isnow fully revealed, and it is a heart of love; and, at the same time, the heart of man, liberated by the sacrifice of Christ from theconscience of sin, as it could never be by the offering of bulls andgoats, can joyfully venture into the divine presence and go out and inwith the freedom of a child. "Having therefore, brethren, boldness toenter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way, which He hath consecrated for us, through the veil--that is to say, Hisflesh--and having a High Priest over the house of God, let us draw nearwith a true heart in full assurance of faith. " [6] II. The second sign was the resurrection of certain of the dead--"Thegraves were opened, and many bodies of the saints which slept arose andcame out of the graves after His resurrection, and went into the holycity and appeared unto many. " Whether or not the rending of the veil in the temple was connected withthe earthquake, there is no doubt that this second sign was. Thegraves in Palestine were caves in the rocks, the mouths of which wereclosed with great stones. Some of these stones were shaken from theirplaces by the earthquake; and the bodies themselves, which lay onshelves or stood upright in niches, may have been disturbed. But insome of them a greater disturbance occurred: besides the externalshaking there took place within them a motion of the life-giving breathof God. In the minds of many devout scholars this miracle has excited suspicionon several accounts. They say it is contrary to the teaching ofScripture elsewhere, according to which Christ was the firstfruits ofthem that slept. If these dead bodies were reanimated at the moment ofthis earthquake, they, and not He, were the firstfruits. To this it isanswered that St. Matthew is careful to note that they came out oftheir graves "after His resurrection"; so that St. Matthew still agreeswith St. Paul in making Christ the first to rise. But, then, it isasked, in what condition were they between their reanimation and theirresurrection? The Evangelist appears to state that they rose fromdeath to life at the moment of the earthquake, but did not emerge fromthe tomb till the third day afterwards, when Christ had risen. Is thiscredible? or is it an apocryphal marvel, which has been interpolated inthe text of St. Matthew? The other Evangelists, while, along with St. Matthew, narrating the rending of the veil, do not touch on thisincident at all. The whole representation, it is argued, lacks thesobriety which is characteristic of the authentic miracles of theGospels and broadly separates them from the ecclesiastical miracles, about which there is generally an air of triviality and grotesqueness. On the other hand, there is no indication in the oldest and bestmanuscripts of St. Matthew that this is an interpolation; and many ofthe acutest minds have felt this trait to be thoroughly congruous andsuitable to its place. If, they contend, He who had just died onCalvary was what He gave Himself out and we believe Him to be, Hisdeath must have excited the profoundest commotion in the kingdoms ofthe dead. The world of living men and women was insensible to thecharacter of the event which was taking place before its eyes; but theworld unseen was agitated as it never had been before and never was tobe again. It was not unnatural, but the reverse, that some of thedead, in their excitement and eagerness, should even press back overthe boundaries of the other world, in order to be in the world whereChrist was. The question where they were or what they were doingbetween their reanimation and resurrection is a triviality not worthconsidering. At all events, they rose after their Lord; and was it notappropriate that when, after the forty days, He ascended to heaven, there to be received by rejoicing angels and archangels, He should notonly appear in the flesh, but be accompanied by specimens of what Hisresurrection power was ultimately to do for all believers? If it beasked who the favoured saints were to whom this blessed priority wasvouchsafed, we cannot tell. The dust, however, was not far away ofmany whom the Lord might delight to honour--patriarchs, like Abraham;kings, like David; prophets, like Isaiah. But the true significance of this sign is not dependent on suchspeculations. Even if it should ever be discovered, as it is not inthe least likely to be, that this story was interpolated in St. Matthew, and we should be driven to the conclusion that it was inventedby the excited fancy of the primitive Christians, even then we shouldhave to ask what caused them to invent it. And the only possibleanswer would be, that it was the force of the conviction burning withinthem that by His death and resurrection Christ had opened the gates ofdeath to all the saints. This was the glorious faith which wasbegotten by the experiences of those never-to-be-forgotten days, whether the sight of these resurrected saints played any part or not inmaturing it; and it is now the faith of the Church and the faith ofmankind. This may well be called the rending of another veil. If in the ancientworld there was a veil on the face of God, there was a veil likewise onthe face of eternity. [7] The home of the soul was hidden from thechildren of men. They vaguely surmised it, indeed; they could neverbelieve that they were wholly dust. But, apart from Christ, thespeculations even of the wisest as to the other world are hardly morecorrect or certain than might be the speculations of infants in thewomb as to the condition of this world. [8] Christ, on the contrary, always spoke of the world invisible with the freedom and confidence ofone to whom it was native and well known; and His resurrection andascension afford the most authentic glimpses into the realm ofimmortality which the world has ever received. In this sign, indeed, it is with the death and not with theresurrection that this authentication is connected. But theresurrection of Christ is allied in the most intimate manner with Hisdeath. It was the public recognition of His righteousness. Since, however, He died not for Himself alone, but as a public person, Hismystical body has the same right to resurrection, and in due time itwill be made manifest that, He having discharged every claim on theirbehalf, death has now no right to detain them. III. The first sign was in the physical world; the second was in theunderworld of the dead; but the third was in the common world of livingmen. This was the acknowledgment of Christ by the centurion whosuperintended His crucifixion. Whether, like the preceding signs, this third one is to be connectedwith the earthquake is a question. Probably the answer ought to be inthe affirmative. The sensation produced by an earthquake is likenothing else in nature; and its first effect on an unsophisticated mindis to create the sense that God is near. Probably, therefore, theearthquake was felt by the centurion to be the divine Amen to thethoughts which had been rising in his mind, and it gave them a speedyand complete delivery in his confession. This confession was, however, the result of his observation of Jesusthroughout His whole trial and the subsequent proceedings; and it is aneloquent tribute to our Lord's behaviour. The centurion may have beenat the side of Jesus from the arrest to the end. Through thoseunparalleled hours he had observed the rage and injustice of Hisenemies; and he had marked how patient, unretaliating, gentle andmagnanimous He had been. He had heard Him praying for His crucifiers, comforting the thief on the cross, providing for His mother, communingwith God. More and more his interest was excited and his heartstirred, till at last he was standing opposite the cross, [9] drinkingin every syllable and devouring every movement; and, when the finalprayer was uttered and the earthquake answered it, his risingconviction brimmed over and he could not withhold his testimony. St. Luke makes him say only, "This was a righteous man, " while theothers report, "This was the Son of God. " But St. Luke's may includetheirs; because, if the centurion meant to state that the claims ofJesus were just, what were His claims? At Pilate's judgment-seat hehad heard it stated that Jesus claimed to be the Son of God, andperhaps he had heard Him make this claim Himself in reply to Pilate'squestion. This name, along with others like it, had been hurled atJesus, in his hearing, by those standing round the cross. But what did he mean when he made this acknowledgment? It has beenheld that all which he, a heathen, could imply was that Jesus was a sonof God in the sense in which the Greeks and Romans believed Hercules, Castor and other heroes to be sons of their deities. This may be nearthe truth; but his soul was moved, his mind was opened; and, once inthe way, he could easily proceed further in the knowledge of Christ. Tradition says that his name was Longinus, and that he became bishop ofCappadocia and ultimately died a martyr. Have we not here the rending of a third veil? There is a veil on theface of God which requires to be removed; and there is a veil on theface of eternity which requires to be removed; but the most fatal veilis that which is on the heart of the individual and prevents him fromseeing the glory of Christ. It was on the faces of nearly all themultitude that day assembled round the cross. It was on the faces ofthe poor soldiers gambling within a few feet of the dying Saviour; intheir case it was a veil of insensibility. It was on the faces of theecclesiastics and the mob of Jerusalem; and in their case it was athick veil of prejudice. The greatest sight ever witnessed on earthwas there beside them; but they were stoneblind to it. The glory of Christ is still the greatest sight which anyone can seebetween the cradle and the grave. And it is now as near everyone of usas it was to the crowd on Calvary. Some see it; for the veil upontheir faces is rent; and they are transfixed and transformed by thesight. But others are blinded. How near one may be to Jesus, how muchmixed up with His cause, how well informed about His life and doctrine, and yet never see His glory or know Him as a personal Saviour! It issaid that people may spend a lifetime in the midst of perfect sceneryand yet never awake to its charm; but by comes a painter or poet anddrinks the beauty in, till he is intoxicated with it and puts it into aglorious picture or a deathless song. So can some remember a time whenJesus, though in a sense well known, was nothing to them; but at acertain point a veil seemed to rend and an entire change supervened;and ever since then the world is full of Him; His name seems written onthe stars and among the flowers; He is their first thought when theywake and their last before they sleep; He is with them in the house andby the way; He is their all in all. This is the most critical rending of the veil; because, when it takesplace, the others follow. When we have our eyes opened to see theglory of Christ, we soon know the Father also; and the darkness passesfrom the face of eternity, because eternity for us is to be foreverwith the Lord. [1] "May this phenomenon account for the early conversion of so manypriests recorded in Acts vi. 7?"--EDERSHEIM. [2] Shakespeare is very fond of describing the portents by whichremarkable events are foreshadowed. Thus, _Julius Caesar_, Act I. Scene ii. :-- "O Cicero, I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds Have rived the knotty oaks; and I have seen Th' ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam, To be exalted with the threatening clouds; But never till to-night, never till now Did I go through a tempest dropping fire. A common slave--you know him well by sight-- Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn Like twenty torches joined; and yet his hand, Not sensible of fire, remained unscorched. Besides--I ha' not since put up my sword-- Against the Capitol I met a lion, Who glared upon me and went surly by, Without annoying me. And there were drawn Upon a heap an hundred ghastly women, Transformed with their fear, who swore they saw Men, all in fire, walk up and down the streets. And yesterday the bird of night did sit Even at noonday upon the marketplace, Hooting and shrieking. When these prodigies Do so conjointly meet, let not men say, 'These are their reasons--they are natural, ' For I believe they are portentous things Unto the climate that they point upon. " See also Act II. , Scene ii. , and Act V. , Scene i. Of the same play;_Macbeth_, Act II. , Scene ii. ; _Hamlet_, Act I. , Scene i. Suchimpressions are not, however, even in modern times, confined to poetryalone. Historical instances will suggest themselves to every reader. [3] Some of the most interesting I have read occur in a brief memoir ofthe founder of the Bagster Publishing Company issued on the centenaryof its opening. [4] _De Oraculorum Defectu_, quoted by Heubner in his commentary, _inloc_. [5] _stenagmos ama thaumasmo_. [6] Heb. X. 19-22. [7] So the ignorance of immortality is expressly called in thebeautiful passage, Isa. Xxv. 7. [8] Sir Thomas Browne, _Hydrotaphia_, chap. Iv. : "A dialogue betweentwo infants in the womb concerning the state of this world mighthandsomely illustrate our ignorance of the next, where, methinks, westill discourse in Plato's den, and are but embryo philosophers. " [9] _Parestekos ex enantias autou_. CHAPTER XXII. THE DEAD CHRIST It was not usual to remove bodies from the cross immediately aftertheir death. They were allowed to hang, exposed to the weather, tillthey rotted and fell to pieces; or they might be torn by birds orbeasts; and at last a fire was perhaps kindled beneath the cross to ridthe place of the remains. Such was the Roman custom; but among theJews there was more scrupulosity. In their law there stood thisprovision: "If a man have committed a sin worthy of death, and he beput to death, and thou hang him on a tree, his body shall not remainall night upon the tree, but thou shalt in any wise bury him that day(for he that is hanged is accursed of God); that thy land be notdefiled which the Lord thy God giveth thee for an inheritance. " [1]Whether or not the Jews always tried to get this provision observed inexecutions carried out in their midst by their Roman masters, we cannottell; but it was natural that they should do so in reference toexecutions carried out in the neighbourhood of the holy city and atPassover time. In the present instance there was the additionalreason, that the morrow of the execution of Jesus was a high day--itwas the Sabbath of the Passover--a kind of double Sabbath, which wouldhave been desecrated by any unclean thing, like an unburied corpse, exposed to view. The Jews were extremely sensitive about such points. At any time they regarded themselves as unclean if they touched a deadbody, and they had to go through a process of purgation before theirsense of sanctity was restored. But on the occasion of a PassoverSabbath they would have felt it to be a desecration if any dead thinghad even met their eyes or rested uncovered on the soil of their city. Therefore their representatives went to the Roman governor and beggedthat the three crucified men should be put to death by clubbing andtheir bodies buried before the Sabbath commenced. The suggestion has often been made that, behind this pretendedscrupulosity, their real aim was to inflict additional pain andindignity on Jesus. The breaking of the bones of the body, by smashingthem with clubs, was a peculiarly horrible form of punishment sometimesinflicted by the Romans. [2] It was nearly as cruel and degrading ascrucifixion itself; and it was an independent punishment, not conjoinedwith crucifixion. But the Jews in this case attempted to get themunited, that Jesus, besides being crucified, might, so to speak, dieyet another death of the most revolting description. The Evangelist, however, throws no doubt on the motive which they put forward--namely, that the Passover Sabbath might be saved from desecration--and, although their insatiable hatred may have made them suggest clubbing asthe mode by which His death should be hastened, we need not questionthat their scruples were genuine. It is an extraordinary instance ofthe game of self-deception which the human conscience can play. Herewere people fresh from the greatest crime ever committed--their handsstill reeking, one might say, with the blood of the Innocent--and theirconsciences, while utterly untouched with remorse for this crime, areanxious about the observance of the Sabbath and the ceremonialdefilement of the soil. It is the most extraordinary illustrationwhich history records of how zeal for what may be called the body ofreligion may be utterly destitute of any connection with its spirit. It is surely a solemn warning to make sure that every outward religiousact is accompanied by the genuine outgoing of the heart to God, and awarning that, if we love not our brother, whom we have seen, neithercan we be lovers of God, whom we have not seen. Pilate hearkened to the request of the Jews, and orders were given tothe soldiers to act accordingly. Then the ghastly work began. Theybroke the legs of the malefactor on the one side of Jesus, and thenthose of the other on the opposite side. The penitent thief was notspared; but what a difference his penitence made! To his companionthis was nothing but an additional indignity; to him it was theknocking-off of the fetters, that his spirit might the sooner wing itsway to Paradise, where Christ had trysted to meet him. Then came the turn of Jesus. But, when the soldiers looked at Him, they saw that their work was unnecessary: death had been before them;the drooping head and pallid frame were those of a dead man. Only, tomake assurance doubly sure, one of them thrust his spear into the body, making a wound so large that Jesus, when He was risen, could invite thedoubting Thomas to thrust his hand into it; and, as the weapon wasdrawn forth again, there came out after it blood and water. St. John, who was on the spot and saw all this taking place, seems tohave perceived in the scene an unusual importance; for he adds to hisreport these words of confirmation, as if he were sealing an officialdocument, "And he that saw it bare record; and his record is true; andhe knoweth that he saith true, that ye might believe. " Why should heinterrupt the flow of his narrative to add these words of assurance? Some have thought that he was moved to do so by a heresy which sprangup in the early Church to the effect that Christ was not really human:His body, it was said, was only a phantom body, and therefore His deathwas only an apparent death. In opposition to such a notion St. Johndirects attention to the realistic details, which prove so conclusivelythat this was a real man and that He died a real death. Of course thatancient heresy has long ceased to trouble; there are none now who denythat Jesus was a man. Yet it is curious how the tendency ever and anonreappears to evaporate the facts of His life. At the present hourthere are eminent Christian teachers in Europe who are treating theresurrection of the Lord in very much the same way as these earlyDocetae treated His death--as a kind of figure of speech, not to beunderstood too literally. Against such the Church must lift up thecrude facts of the resurrection as St. John did those of the death ofthe Saviour. [3] In our generation teachers of every kind are appealingto Christ and putting Him in the centre of theology; but we must askthem, What Christ? Is it the Christ of the Scriptures: the Christ whoin the beginning was with God; who was incarnated; who died for thesins of the world; who was raised from the dead and reigns forevermore? We must not delude ourselves with words: only the Christ ofthe Scriptures could have brought us the salvation of the Scriptures. What excited the wonder of St. John is supposed by others to have beenthe fulfilment of two passages of the Old Testament Scripture which hequotes. It appeared to be a matter of mere chance that the soldiers, contrary to the intention of the Jews, refrained from breaking thebones of Jesus; yet a sacred word, of which they knew nothing, writtenhundreds of years before, had said, "A bone of Him shall not bebroken. " It seemed the most casual circumstance that the soldierplunged the spear into the side of Jesus, to make sure that He wasdead; yet an ancient oracle, of which he knew nothing, had said, "Theyshall look on Him whom they pierced. " Thus, by the overrulingprovidence of God, the soldiers, going with rude unconcern about theirwork, were unconsciously fulfilling the Scriptures; and those who bothsaw what they had done and knew the Scriptures recognised the Divinefinger pointing out Jesus as the Sent of God. The first of these texts is generally supposed[4] to be taken from theaccount in Exodus of the institution of the Passover, and originally itrefers to the paschal lamb, which was to be eaten whole, the breakingof its bones being forbidden. St. John's idea is that Christ was to bethe paschal lamb of the New Dispensation, and that therefore Providencetook care that nothing should be done to destroy His resemblance to thetype, as would have happened if His bones had been broken. ThePassover was the great event of the year in all the generations ofJewish history. It was intended to carry the minds of God's peopleback to the wonderful scenes of divine grace and power in which theirexistence as a nation had begun, when God liberated them from theirbondage and led them out of Egypt with a mighty hand. The centre ofthe solemnity was the slaying and eating of the paschal lamb. Thisreminded them of how in Egypt the blood of this lamb, sprinkled on thelintels and doorposts of their huts, saved them from the visit of thedestroying angel, who was passing through the land; and how, at thesame time, the flesh of the lamb was eaten by the people, with theirloins girt and staves in their hands, and supplied them with strengthfor their adventurous journey. Thus through all ages it impressed onthem two things--that the sins of the past required to be expiated, andthat strength had to be obtained from above for the new stage of theirhistory on which at the annual Passover they might be supposed to beentering. In the same way, in the New Dispensation, are our minds everto revert to the marvellous revelation of the grace and saving power ofGod in which Christianity originated; and in the very midst is the Lambslain, who is both the expiation of the sins that are past and thestrength requisite for the conflict and the pilgrimage. "If we walk inthe light, as He is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin. " The other words of prophecy which appeared to St. John to be fulfilledon this occasion were, "They shall look on Him whom they pierced. "They are from a passage in Zechariah, which is so remarkable that itmay be quoted in full--"And I will pour out on the house of David andupon the inhabitants of Jerusalem the spirit of grace and ofsupplications, and they shall look upon Me whom they have pierced, andthey shall mourn for Him, as one mourneth for his only son, and shallbe in bitterness for Him, as one that is in bitterness for hisfirstborn. " Jehovah speaks figuratively of the opposition shown toHimself and His servants as piercing Him with pain, just as we say ofan insult that it cuts to the heart. But in the death of Jesus thefigure became a fact: against the sacred person of the Son of God thespear was lifted up, and it was driven home without compunction. Evidently St. John thinks of this rather as the act of the Jewishpeople than of the Roman soldier. But the prophecy speaks not only ofthe people piercing God, but of their looking at their own work withshame and tears. At Pentecost this began to be fulfilled; and in everyage since there have been members of the Jewish race who haveacknowledged their guilt in the transaction. The full acknowledgment, however, still lingers; but the conversion of God's ancient people, when it comes, must begin with this. Indeed, every human being to whomhis own true relation to Christ is revealed must make the sameacknowledgment. It was the heart not of a few soldiers or of therepresentatives of a single people, but of the human race, thathardened itself against Him. It was the sin of the world that nailedHim to the tree and shed His blood. Every sinner may therefore feelthat he had a hand in it; and it is only when we see our own sin asaiming at the very existence of God in the death of His Son that wecomprehend it in all its enormity. There have been many who have found the reason for St. John's wonder inthe fact that out of the wounded side there flowed blood and water. From a corpse, when it is pierced--at least, if it has been some timedead--it is not usual for anything to flow. But whether St. Johnreflected on this or not we cannot tell. What fascinated him wassimply the fact that the piercing of the body of the Saviour made it afountain out of which sprang this double outflow. When the rock in thewilderness was smitten with the rod of Moses, there issued from it astream which was life to the perishing multitude; but in the doublestream coming from the side of Jesus St. John saw something better eventhan that; because to him the blood symbolized the atonement, and thewater the Spirit of Christ; and in these two all our salvation lies. [5]So we sing in the most precious of all our hymns, -- Let the water and the blood From Thy living side which flowed Be of sin the double cure-- Cleanse me from its guilt and power. Although, however, St. John did not perhaps speculate on the reason whythis double outflow took place from the wounded side, others haveoccupied themselves with the question. Some[6] have considered the phenomenon altogether abnormal, andendeavoured to explain it from the peculiarity of our Lord's humanity. Though He died. He was not, like other men, to see corruption; Hisbody was to escape in a few hours, transfigured and glorious, from thegrasp of death. This transforming process, which issued in Hisresurrection, began as soon as He was dead; and the spear-thrust, breaking in on it, so to speak, revealed something altogether unique inthe constitution of His body. Others, keeping within the limits of ascertained fact, have given atotally different yet a peculiarly interesting explanation. They havedirected attention to the suddenness of Christ's death. It was usualfor crucified persons to linger for days; but He did not survive morethan six hours. Yet immediately before dying He again and again criedwith a loud voice, as if His bodily force were by no means exhausted. Suddenly, however, with a loud cry His life terminated. To what couldthis be due? It is said that sometimes, under the pressure of intensemental and physical agony, the heart bursts; there is a shriek, and ofcourse death is instantaneous. We speak of people dying of a brokenheart--using the phrase only figuratively--but sometimes it can be usedliterally: the heart is actually ruptured with grief. Now, it is saidthat, when this takes place, the blood contained in the heart is pouredinto a sac by which it is surrounded; and there it separates into twosubstances--a clotty substance of the colour of blood and a pure, colourless substance like water. And, if the sac, when in thiscondition, were pierced by a spear or any other instrument, there wouldflow out a large quantity of both substances, which would by anunscientific spectator be described as blood and water. It was by an English medical man that this theory was first propoundedfifty years ago, [7] and it has been adopted by other medical men, equally famous for their scientific eminence and Christian character, such as the late Professor Begbie and Sir James Simpson. The latterwell brings out the point and the pathos of this view of the Saviour'sdeath in these words:[8] "It has always appeared--to my medical mind atleast--that this view of the mode by which death was produced in thehuman body of Christ intensifies all our thoughts and ideas regardingthe immensity of the sacrifice which He made for our sinful race uponthe cross. Nothing can be more striking and startling than thepassiveness with which, for our sakes, God as man submitted Hisincarnate body to the horrors and tortures of the crucifixion. But ourwonderment at the stupendous sacrifice increases when we reflect that, whilst thus enduring for our sins the most cruel and agonising form ofcorporeal death, He was ultimately slain, not by the effects of theanguish of His corporeal frame, but by the effects of the mightieranguish of His mind; the fleshly walls of His heart--like the veil, asit were, in the temple of His body--becoming rent and riven, as for usHe poured out His soul unto death--the travail of His soul in thatawful hour thus standing out as unspeakably more bitter and dreadfulthan even the travail of His body. " In this chapter we have been moving somewhat in the region ofspeculation and conjecture, and we have not rigidly ascertained what islogically tenable and what is not. This is a place of mystery, wheredim yet imposing meanings peep out on us in whatever direction we turn. We have called the scene the Dead Christ. But who does not see thatthe dead Christ is so interesting and wonderful because He is also theliving Christ? He lives; He is here; He is with us now. Yet theconverse is also true--that the living Christ is to us so wonderful andadorable because He was dead. The fact that He is alive inspires uswith strength and hope; but it is by the memory of His death that He iscommended to the trust of our burdened consciences and the love of oursympathetic hearts. [1] Deut. Xxi. 22, 23. [2] "_Crurifragium_, as it was called, consisted in striking the legsof the sufferer with a heavy mallet"--FARRAR, _Life of Christ_, ii. , 423. [3] The words that follow in this paragraph are a reminiscence of asingularly eloquent and powerful passage in a speech of Dr. Maclaren, of Manchester, delivered last year in Edinburgh. [4] Weiss, however, supposes Psalm xxxiv. 20 to be the reference. [5] On the symbolism of this phenomenon see the excursus in Westcott's_Gospel of St. John_, pp. 284-86. [6] _E. G. _, Lange, characteristically. [7] Stroud in his treatise _On the Physical Cause of the Death ofChrist_. [8] Given in Hanna's _The Last Day of our Lord's Passion_. CHAPTER XXIII. THE BURIAL There is a hard and shallow philosophy which regards it as a matter ofcomplete indifference what becomes of the body after the soul has leftit and affects contempt of all funeral ceremonies. But the instinctsof mankind are wiser. In ancient times it was considered one of theworst of misfortunes to miss decent burial; and, although thissentiment was mixed with superstition, there was beneath it a healthyinstinct. There is a dignity of the body as well as of the soul, especially when it is a temple of the Holy Ghost; and there is amajesty about death which cannot be ignored without loss to theliving. [1] It is with a sense of pain and humiliation, as if adishonour were being done to human nature, that we see a funeral atwhich everything betokens hurry, shabbiness and slovenliness. On thecontrary, the satisfaction is not morbid with which we see a funeralconducted with solemnity and chaste pomp. And, when someone fallswhose career has been one of extraordinary achievement and beneficence, and who has become On fortune's crowning slope The pillar of a nation's hope, The centre of a world's desire, then, as the remains are borne amidst an empire's lamentation to rest"under the cross of gold that shines over river and city, " and thetolling bells and echoing cannon sound over hushed London, and thesilent masses line the streets, and the learned and the noble standuncovered around the open grave, it would be a diseased and churlishmind which did not feel the spell of the pageant. Thus ought the great, the wise and the good to be buried. How then wasHe buried whom all now agree to call the Greatest, the Wisest and theBest? I. The three corpses were taken down towards evening, before the JewishSabbath set in, which commenced at sunset. Probably the two robberswere buried on the spot, crosses and all, or they were hurriedlycarried off to some obscure and accursed ditch, where the remains ofcriminals were wont to be unceremoniously thrust underground. This would have been the fate of Jesus too, had not an unexpected handinterposed. It was the humane custom of the Romans to give the corpsesof criminals to their friends, if they chose to ask for them; and aclaimant appeared for the body of Jesus, to whom Pilate was by no meansloath to grant it. This is the first time that Joseph of Arimathea appears on the stage ofthe gospel history; and of his previous life very little is known. Even the town from which he derives his appellation is not known withcertainty. The fact that he owned a garden and burying-place in theenvirons of Jerusalem does not necessarily indicate that he was aresident there; for pious Jews had all a desire to be buried in theprecincts of the sacred city; and, indeed, the whole neighbourhood isstill honeycombed with tombs. Joseph was a rich man; and this may have availed him in his applicationto Pilate. Those who possess wealth or social position ordistinguished talents can serve Christ in ways which are not accessibleto His humbler followers. Only, before such gifts can be acceptable toHim, those to whom they belong must count them but loss and dung forHis sake. Joseph was a councillor. It has been conjectured that the council ofwhich he was a member was that of Arimathea; but the observation thathe "had not consented to the counsel and deed of them, " which obviouslyrefers to the Sanhedrim, makes it more than probable that it was ofthis august body he was a member. No doubt he absented himselfdeliberately from the meeting at which Jesus was condemned, knowingwell beforehand that the proceedings would be utterly painful andrevolting to his feelings. For "he was a good man and a just. " We are, however, told more about him: "he waited for the kingdom ofGod. " This is a phrase applied elsewhere also in the New Testament tothe devout in Palestine at this period; and it designates in a strikingway the peculiarity of their piety. The age was spiritually dead. Religion was represented by the high-and-dry formalism of the Phariseeson the one hand and the cold and worldly scepticism of the Sadducees onthe other. In the synagogues the people asked for bread and wereoffered a stone. The scribes, instead of letting the pure river ofBible truth flow over the land, choked up its course with the sand oftheir soulless commentary. Yet there are good people even in the worstof times. There were truly pious souls sprinkled up and downPalestine. They were like lights shining here and there, at greatintervals, in the darkness. They could not but feel that they werestrangers and foreigners in their own age and country, and they livedin the past and the future. The prophets, on whose words theynourished their souls, foretold a good time coming, when on those whosat in darkness there would burst a great light. For this better time, then, they were waiting. They were waiting to hear the voice ofprophecy echoing once more through the land and waking the populationfrom its spiritual slumber. They were waiting, above all, for theMessiah, if they might dare to hope that He would come in their days. Such were the souls among which both John and Jesus found theirauditors. All such must have welcomed the voices of the Baptist andhis Successor as at least those of prophets who were striving earnestlyto deal with the evils of the time. But whether Jesus was He thatshould come or whether they should look for another, some of them stoodin doubt. Among these perhaps was Joseph. He was, it is said, adisciple of Jesus, but secretly, for fear of the Jews. He had faith, but not faith enough to confess Christ and take the consequences. Evenduring the trial of Jesus he satisfied his conscience by being absentfrom the meeting of the Sanhedrim, instead of standing up in his placeand avowing his convictions. Such he had been up to this point. But now in the face of danger heidentified himself with Jesus. It is interesting to note what it wasthat brought him to decision. It was the excess of wickedness in hisfellow-councillors, who at length went to a stage of violence andinjustice which allowed him to hesitate no longer. Complete religiousdecision is sometimes brought about in this way. Thus, for example, one who has been halting between two opinions, or, at all events, hasnever had courage enough openly to confess his convictions, may be someday among his fellow-workmen or shopmen, when religion comes up as atopic of conversation and is received with ridicule, Christ's peoplebeing sneered at, His doctrines denied, and He Himself blasphemed. Butat last it goes too far the silent, half-convinced disciple can standit no longer; he breaks out in indignant protest and stands confessedas a Christian. In some such way as this must the change of sentimenthave taken place in the mind of Joseph. He had to defy the entireSanhedrim; he was putting himself in imminent peril; but he could holdin no longer; and, casting fear behind his back, he went in "boldly" toPilate and begged the body of Jesus. II. Boldness in confessing Christ is apt to have two results. On the one hand, it cows adversaries. It is not said that Joseph gothimself into trouble by his action on this occasion, or that theSanhedrim immediately commenced a persecution against him. They were, indeed, in a state of extreme excitement, and they were seventy to one. But sometimes a single bold man can quell much more numerous oppositionthan even this. It is certain that the consciences of many of themwere ill at ease, and they were by no means prepared to challenge toargument on the merits of the case a quiet and resolute man with theelevation of whose character they were all acquainted. It is one ofthe great advantages of those who stand up for Christ that they havethe consciences even of their adversaries on their side. The other effect of boldness in confessing Christ is that it brings outconfession from others who have not had in their own breast enough offire to make them act, but are heated up to the necessary temperatureby example. It seems clear that in this way the example of Josephevoked the loyalty of Nicodemus. Nicodemus was of the same rank as Joseph, being a member of theSanhedrim; and he was a secret disciple. This is not the first timethat he appears on the stage of the Gospel history. At the verycommencement of the career of Jesus he had been attracted to Him andhad gone so far as to seek a private interview; the account of which isone of the most precious component parts of the Gospel and has madetens of thousands not only believers in Christ but witnesses for Him. It had not, however, as much effect on the man to whom it wasoriginally vouchsafed, though it ought to have had. Nicodemus ought tohave been one of the earliest followers of the Lord; and his positionwould have brought weight to the apostolic circle. But he hesitatedand remained a secret disciple. On one occasion, indeed, he spoke out:once, when something intolerably unjust was said against Jesus in theSanhedrim, he interposed the question, "Doth our law judge any manbefore it hear him and know what he doeth?" But with the angry answer, "Art thou also of Galilee?" he was shouted down; and he held his peace. Doubtless, like Joseph, he absented himself from the meeting of theSanhedrim at which Jesus was condemned; but the injustice done was soflagrant that he was ready to make a public protest against it. Hemight not, however, have had the courage of his convictions, had notJoseph shown him the way. Yet this must be praised in Nicodemus, that he was a growing andimproving man. Though he hung back for a time, he came forward atlast; and better late than never. It was a happy hour for him when hewas brought into contact with Joseph. There are many circles offriends where all are internally convinced and leaning to the rightside, and, if only one would come boldly out, the others wouldwillingly follow. The hands of Joseph and Nicodemus met and claspedeach other round the body of their Redeemer. There is no love, orfriendship, or fellowship like that of those who are united to oneanother through their connection with Him. III. Art has described the burial of our Lord with great fulness of detail, drawing largely on the imagination. It has divided it into severalscenes. [2] There is, first, the Descent from the Cross, in which, besides Josephand Nicodemus, St. John at least, and sometimes other men, arerepresented as extracting the nails and lowering the body; whilebeneath the cross the holy women, among whom the Virgin Mary and MaryMagdalene are prominent, receive the precious burden. Many readerswill recall the most famous of such pictures, that by Rubens in theCathedral at Antwerp--an extremely impressive but too sensuousrepresentation of the scene of busy affection--wherein the corpse isbeing let down by means of a great white sheet into the hands of thewomen, who receive it tenderly, one foot resting on the shoulder of theMagdalene. Then there is what is called the Pieta, or the mourning of the womenover the dead body. In this scene the holy mother usually holds thehead of her Son in her lap, while the Magdalene clasps His feet andothers clasp His hands. Next ensues the Procession to the Sepulchre;and, last of all, there is the Entombment, which is represented in agreat variety of forms. On these scenes the great painters have lavished all the resources ofart; but the narrative of the Gospels is brief and unpictorial. TheVirgin is not even mentioned; and, although others of the holy womenare said to have been there, it is not suggested that they helped inthe labour of burial, but only that they followed and marked where Hewas laid. Joseph and Nicodemus are the prominent actors, though it isreasonable to suppose that they were assisted by their servants; andthe soldiers may have lent a hand in disentangling the body. It was in a new sepulchre, which Joseph had had hewn out of the rockfor himself, in order that after death he might lie in the sacredshadow of the city of God, that the Lord was laid. No corpse had everbeen placed in it before. This was a great gift to give to anexcommunicated and crucified man; and it was a most appropriate one;for it was meet that the pure and stainless One, who had come to makeall things new and, though dead, was not to see corruption, should restin an undefiled sepulchre. Similarly appropriate and suggestive wasthe new linen cloth, which Joseph bought expressly for the purpose ofenwinding the body. Nor was Nicodemus behind in affection andsacrifice. He brought "a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about an hundredpound weight. " This may appear an enormous quantity, but custom wasvery lavish in such gifts; at the funeral of Herod the Great, forexample, the spices were carried by five hundred bearers. The tomb was in a garden--another touch of appropriateness and beauty. The spot does not seem to have been far from the place of execution;but whether it was as near as it is represented to have been in thetraditional site may well be doubted. The Church of the Holy Sepulchreincludes within its precincts both the Lord's tomb and the hole in therock in which stood His cross; and the two are only thirty yardsapart. [3] But it is highly questionable whether the identification ofeither is possible. Still, this may be said to be the most famous bitof the entire surface of the globe. Christendom accepted thetradition, which dates from the time of Constantine, and since thenpilgrims have flocked to the spot from every land. It was for thepossession of this shrine that the Crusades were undertaken, and at thepresent day the Churches of Christendom fight for a footing in it. We may have no sympathy with the practice of pilgrimages and littleinterest in the identification of holy places; but the holy sepulchrecannot but attract the believing heart. It was a practice of the pietyof former days to meditate among the tombs. The piety of the presentday inclines to more cheerful and, let us hope, not less healthyexercises. But every man with any depth of nature must lingersometimes beside the graves of his loved ones; every man of anyseriousness must think sometimes of his own grave. And in such momentswhat can be so helpful as to pilgrim in spirit to the tomb of Him whosaid, "I am the resurrection and the life"? In comparison with the great ones of the earth Jesus had but a humblefuneral; yet in the character of those who did Him the last honours itcould not have been surpassed; and it was rich in love, which can welltake the place of a great deal of ceremony. So at last, stretched outin the new tomb, wherein man had never lain, enwrapped in an aromaticbed of spices and breathed round by the fragrance of flowers, with thewhite linen round Him and the napkin which hid the wounds of the thornsabout His brow, while the great stone which formed the door stoodbetween Him and the world, He lay down to rest. It was evening, andthe Sabbath drew on; and the Sabbath of His life had come. His workwas completed; persecution and hatred could not reach Him any more; Hewas where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest. [1] The most beautiful thing ever said about the bodies of the dead isin the Shorter Catechism: "And their bodies, being still united toChrist, do rest in their graves till the resurrection. " [2] On these and similar details see _The Life of our Lord asexemplified in Works of Art_, by Mrs. Jameson (completed by LadyEastlake). [3] Many interesting details in Ross's _Cradle of Christianity_.