{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_21814/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_21814","id":"gutenberg_21814","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/21814","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - Religious","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Jesus Christ -- Crucifixion","Jesus Christ -- Trial"],"text":"Produced by Al Haines\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE TRIAL AND DEATH\n\nOF\n\nJESUS CHRIST\n\n\nA Devotional History of our Lord's Passion.\n\n\n\nBY\n\nJAMES STALKER, D.D.\n\n\n\nAUTHOR OF \"LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST,\" \"LIFE OF ST. PAUL,\" \"IMAGO CHRISTI,\"\nETC.\n\n\n\nCRUX DOMINI PALMA, CEDRUS, CYPRESSUS, OLIVA.\n\n\n\nHODDER & STOUGHTON\n\nNEW YORK\n\nGEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY\n\n\n\n\nCOPYRIGHT, 1894,\n\nBY\n\nA. C. ARMSTRONG & SON.\n\n\n\n\nTO MY WIFE\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\nEver since I wrote, in a contracted form, _The Life of Jesus Christ_,\nthe desire has slumbered in my mind to describe on a much more extended\nscale the closing passages of the Saviour's earthly history; and,\nalthough renewed study has deepened my sense of the impossibility of\ndoing these scenes full justice, yet the subject has never ceased to\nattract me, as being beyond all others impressive and remunerative.\n\nThe limits of our Lord's Passion are somewhat indeterminate.\nKrummacher begins with the Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem, Tauler with\nthe Feet-washing before the Last Supper, and Rambach with Gethsemane;\nmost end with the Death and Burial; but Grimm, a Roman Catholic, the\nlatest writer on the subject, means to extend his _Leidensgeschichte_\nto the end of the Forty Days.  Taking the word \"passion\" in the strict\nsense, I have commenced at the point where, by falling into the hands\nof His enemies, our Lord was deprived of voluntary activity; and I have\nfinished with the Burial.  No doubt the same unique greatness belongs\nto the scenes of the previous evening; and I should like to write of\nChrist among His Friends as I have here written of Him among His Foes;\nbut for this purpose a volume at least as large as the present one\nwould be requisite; and the portion here described has an obvious unity\nof its own.\n\nThe bibliography of the Passion is given with considerable fulness in\nZoeckler's _Das Kreuz Christi_; but a good many of the books there\nenumerated may be said to have been superseded by the monumental work\nof Nebe, _Die Leidensgeschichte unsers Herrn Hesu Christi_ (2 vols.,\n1881), which, though not a work of genius, is written on so\ncomprehensive a plan and with such abundance of learning that nothing\ncould better serve the purpose of anyone who wishes to draw the\nskeleton before painting the picture.  Of the numerous Lives of Christ\nthose by Keim and Edersheim are worthy of special notice in this part\nof the history, because of the fulness of information from classical\nsources in the one and from Talmudical in the other.  Steinmeyer\n(_Leidensgeschichte_) is valuable on apologetic questions.  On the\nSeven Words from the Cross there is an extensive special literature.\nSchleiermacher and Tholuck are remarkably good; and there are volumes\nby Baring-Gould, Scott Holland and others.\n\nIn the sub-title I have called this book a Devotional History, because\nthe subject is one which has to be studied with the heart as well as\nthe head.  But I have not on this account written in the declamatory\nand interrogatory style common in devotional works.  I have to confess\nthat some even of the most famous books on the Passion are to me\nintolerably tedious, because they are written, so to speak, in oh's and\nah's.  Surely this is not essential to devotion.  The scenes of the\nPassion ought, indeed, to stir the depths of the heart; but this\npurpose is best attained, not by the narrator displaying his own\nemotions, but, as is shown in the incomparable model of the Gospels, by\nthe faithful exhibition of the facts themselves.\n\nGLASGOW, 1894.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nCHAPTER\n\nI. THE ARREST\n\nMatt. xxvi. 47-56; Mark xiv. 43-50; Luke xxii. 47-53; John viii. 1-11.\n\n\nII. THE ECCLESIASTICAL TRIAL\n\nMatt. xxvi. 57-68; Mark xiv. 51-65; Luke xxii. 54-71; John xviii.\n12-14, 19-24.\n\n\nIII. THE GREAT DENIAL\n\nMatt. xxvi. 69-75; Mark xiv. 66-72; Luke xxii. 54-62; John xviii.\n15-18, 25-7.\n\n\nIV. THE CIVIL TRIAL\n\nMatt. xxvii. 11; Mark xv. 2; Luke xxiii. 2-4; John xviii. 28-38.\n\n\nV. JESUS AND HEROD\n\nLuke xxiii. 5-12.\n\n\nVI. BACK TO PILATE\n\nMatt. xxvii. 15-23; Mark xv. 6-14; Luke xxiii. 13-25; John xviii. 39,\n40.\n\n\nVII. THE CROWN OF THORNS\n\nMatt. xxvii. 26-30; Mark xv. 15-20; Luke xxiii. 25; John xix. 1-5.\n\n\nVIII. THE SHIPWRECK OF PILATE\n\nMatt. xxvii. 24, 25; Mark xv. 15; Luke xxiii. 25; John xix. 5-16.\n\n\nIX. JUDAS ISCARIOT\n\nMatt. xxvii. 3-10; Acts i. 18, 19.\n\n\nX. VIA DOLOROSA\n\nMatt. xxvii. 31-3; Mark xv. 20, 21; Luke xxiii. 26; John xix. 16, 17.\n\n\nXI. THE DAUGHTERS OF JERUSALEM\n\nLuke xxiii. 27-31.\n\n\nXIL. CALVARY\n\nMatt. xxvii. 33-8; Mark xv. 27, 28; Luke xxiii. 32, 33; John xix. 18-22.\n\n\nXIII. THE GROUPS ROUND THE CROSS\n\nMatt. xxvii. 39-44, 55, 56; Mark xv. 29-32; Luke xxiii. 35-7, 49; John\nxix. 23-5.\n\n\nXIV. THE FIRST WORD FROM THE CROSS\n\nLuke xxiii. 34.\n\n\nXV. THE SECOND WORD FROM THE CROSS\n\nLuke xxiii. 39-43.\n\n\nXVI. THE THIRD WORD FROM THE CROSS\n\nJohn xix. 25-27.\n\n\nXVII. THE FOURTH WORD FROM THE CROSS\n\nMatt. xxvii. 46-9; Mark xv. 34-6.\n\n\nXVIII. THE FIFTH WORD FROM THE CROSS\n\nJohn xix. 28.\n\n\nXIX. THE SIXTH WORD FROM THE CROSS\n\nJohn xix. 30.\n\n\nXX. THE SEVENTH WORD FROM THE CROSS\n\nLuke xxiii. 46.\n\n\nXXI. THE SIGNS\n\nMatt. xxvii. 50-4; Mark xv. 38, 39; Luke xxiii. 44, 45, 47.\n\n\nXXII. THE DEAD CHRIST\n\nJohn xix. 31-7.\n\n\nXXIII. THE BURIAL\n\nMatt. xxvii. 57-61; Mark xv. 42-7; Luke xxiii. 50-6; John xix. 38-42.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE ARREST\n\nOur study of the closing scenes of the life of our Lord begins at the\npoint where He fell into the hands of the representatives of justice;\nand this took place at the gate of Gethsemane and at the midnight hour.\n\nOn the eastern side of Jerusalem, the ground slopes downwards to the\nbed of the Brook Kedron; and on the further side of the stream rises\nthe Mount of Olives.  The side of the hill was laid out in gardens or\norchards belonging to the inhabitants of the city; and Gethsemane was\none of these.  There is no probability that the enclosure now pointed\nout to pilgrims at the foot of the hill is the actual spot, or that the\nsix aged olive trees which it contains are those to the silent shadows\nof which the Saviour used to resort; but the scene cannot have been far\naway, and the piety which lingers with awe in the traditional site\ncannot be much mistaken.\n\nThe agony in Gethsemane was just over, when \"lo,\" as St. Matthew says,\n\"Judas, one of the twelve, came, and with him a great multitude.\"  They\nhad come down from the eastern gate of the city and were approaching\nthe entrance to the garden.  It was full moon, and the black mass was\neasily visible, moving along the dusty road.\n\nThe arrest of Christ was not made by two or three common officers of\njustice.  The \"great multitude\" has to be taken literally, but not in\nthe sense of a disorderly crowd.  As it was at the instance of the\necclesiastical authorities that the apprehension took place, their\nservants--the Levitical police of the temple--were to the front.  But,\nas Jesus had at least eleven resolute men with Him, and these might\nrouse incalculable numbers of His adherents on the way to the city, it\nhad been considered judicious to ask from the Roman governor a division\nof soldiers,[1] which, at the time of the Passover, was located in the\nfortress of Antonia, overlooking the temple, to intervene in any\nemergency.  And some of the members of the Sanhedrim had even come\nthemselves, so eager were they to see that the design should not\nmiscarry.  This composite force was armed with swords and staves--the\nformer weapon belonging perhaps to the Roman soldiers and the latter to\nthe temple police--and they carried lanterns and torches, probably\nbecause they expected to have to hunt for Jesus and His followers in\nthe recesses of His retreat.  Altogether it was a formidable body: they\nwere determined to make assurance doubly sure.\n\n\nI.\n\nThe leader of them was Judas.  Of the general character of this man,\nand the nature of his crime, enough will be said later; but here we\nmust note that there were special aggravations in his mode of carrying\nout his purpose.\n\nHe profaned the Passover.  The better day, says the proverb, the better\ndeed.  But, if a deed is evil, it is the worse if it is done on a\nsacred day.  The Passover was the most sacred season of the entire\nyear; and this very evening was the most sacred of the Passover week.\nIt was as if a crime should in Scotland be committed by a member of the\nChurch on the night of a Communion Sabbath, or in England on Christmas\nDay.\n\nHe invaded the sanctuary of his Master's devotions.  Gethsemane was a\nfavourite resort of Jesus; Judas had been there with Him, and he knew\nwell for what purpose He frequented it.  But the respect due to a place\nof prayer did not deter him; on the contrary, he took advantage of his\nMaster's well-known habit.\n\nBut the crowning profanation, for which humanity will never forgive\nhim, was the sign by which he had agreed to make his Master known to\nHis enemies.  It is probable that he came on in front, as if he did not\nbelong to the band behind; and, hurrying towards Jesus, as if to\napprise Him of His danger and condole with Him on so sad a misfortune\nas His apprehension, he flung himself on His neck, sobbing, \"Master,\nMaster!\" and not only did he kiss Him, but he did so repeatedly or\nfervently: so the word signifies.[2]  As long as there is true, pure\nlove in the world, this act will be hated and despised by everyone who\nhas ever given or received this token of affection.  It was a sin\nagainst the human heart and all its charities.  But none can feel its\nhorror as it must have been felt by Jesus.  That night and the next day\nHis face was marred in many ways: it was furrowed by the bloody sweat;\nit was bruised with blows; they spat upon it; it was rent with thorns:\nbut nothing went so close to His heart as the profanation of this kiss.\nAs another said, who had been similarly treated: \"It was not an enemy\nthat reproached me, then I could have borne it; neither was it he that\nhated me that did magnify himself against me, then I would have hid\nmyself from him; but it was thou, a man mine equal, my guide and mine\nacquaintance; we took sweet counsel together, and walked to the house\nof God in company.\" [3]  Before the kiss was given, Jesus still\nreceived him with the old name of Friend; but, after being stung with\nit, He could not keep back the annihilating question, \"Judas, betrayest\nthou the Son of man with a kiss?\"\n\nThe kiss was the sign of discipleship.  In the East, students used to\nkiss their rabbis; and in all likelihood this custom prevailed between\nChrist and His disciples.  When we become His disciples, we may be said\nto kiss Him; and every time we renew the pledge of our loyalty we may\nbe said to repeat this act.  We do so especially in the Lord's Supper.\nIn our baptism He may be said to take us up in His arms and kiss us; in\nthe other sacrament we obtain the opportunity of returning this mark of\naffection.\n\n\nII.\n\nProbably Judas, being ahead of the band he was leading, went somewhat\ninto the shadows of the garden to reach Jesus; and no doubt it was\nexpected that Jesus would try to get away.  But, instead of doing so,\nHe shook Himself free from Judas and, coming forward at once into the\nmoonlight, demanded, \"Whom seek ye?\"\n\nAt this they were so startled that they reeled back and, stepping one\non another, fell to the ground.\n\nSimilar incidents are related of famous men.  The Roman Marius, for\ninstance, was in prison at Minturnae when Sylla sent orders that he\nshould be put to death.  A Gaulish slave was sent to dispatch him; but,\nat the sight of the man who had shaken the world, and who cried out,\n\"Fellow, darest thou to slay Caius Marius?\" the soldier threw down his\nweapon and fled.[4]\n\nThere are many indications scattered through the Gospels that,\nespecially in moments of high emotion, there was something\nextraordinarily subduing in the aspect and voice of Christ.[5]  On the\noccasion, for example, when He cleared the temple, the hardened\nprofaners of the place, though numerous and powerful, fled in terror\nbefore Him.  And the striking notice of Him as He was going up to\nJerusalem for the last time will be remembered: \"Jesus went before\nthem, and they were amazed; and, as they followed, they were afraid.\"\n\nOn this occasion the emotion of Gethsemane was upon Him--the rapt sense\nof victory and of a mind steeled to go through with its purpose--and\nperhaps there remained on His face some traces of the Agony, which\nscared the onlookers.  It is not necessary to suppose that there was\nanything preternatural, though part of the terror of His captors may\nhave been the dread lest He should destroy them by a miracle.\nEvidently Judas was afraid of something of this kind when he said,\n\"Take Him and lead Him away safely.\"\n\nThe truth is, they were caught, instead of catching Him.  It was a\nmean, treacherous errand they were on.  They were employing a traitor\nas their guide.  They expected to come upon Christ, perhaps when He was\nasleep, in silence and by stealth; or, if He were awake, they thought\nthat they would have to pursue Him into a lurking-place, where they\nwould find Him trembling and at bay.  They were to surprise Him, but,\nwhen He came forth fearless, rapt and interrogative, He surprised them,\nand compelled them to take an altogether unexpected attitude.  He\nbrought all above board and put them to shame.\n\nHow ridiculous now looked their cumbrous preparations--all these\nsoldiers, the swords and staves, the torches and lanterns, now burning\npale in the clear moonlight.  Jesus made them feel it.  He made them\nfeel what manner of spirit they were of, and how utterly they had\nmistaken His views and spirit.  \"Whom seek ye?\" He asked them again, to\ncompel them to see that they were not taking Him, but that He was\ngiving Himself up.  He was completely master of the situation.\nSingling out the Sanhedrists, who probably at that moment would rather\nhave kept in the background, He demanded, pointing to their excessive\npreparations, \"Be ye come out as against a thief, with swords and\nstaves?  When I was daily with you in the temple, ye stretched forth no\nhands against Me.\"  He, a solitary man, though He knew how many were\nagainst Him, had not been afraid: He taught daily in the temple--in the\nmost public place, at the most public hour.  But they, numerous and\npowerful as they were, yet were afraid, and so they had chosen the\nmidnight hour for their nefarious purpose.  \"This is your hour,\" He\nsaid, \"and the power of darkness.\"  This midnight hour is your hour,\nbecause ye are sons of night, and the power ye wield against Me is the\npower of darkness.\n\nSo spake the Lion of the tribe of Judah!  So will He speak on that day\nwhen all His enemies shall be put under His feet.  \"Kiss the Son, lest\nHe be angry, and ye perish from the way when His wrath is kindled but a\nlittle.  Blessed are all they that put their trust in Him.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nWe cannot recall to mind too often that it was the victory in the\nGarden that accounted for this triumph outside the gate.  The\nirresistible dignity and strength here displayed were gained by\nwatching and prayer.\n\nThis, however, is made still more impressively clear by the fate of\nthose who did not watch and pray.  On them everything came as a\nblinding and bewildering surprise.  They were aroused out of profound\nslumber, and came stumbling forward hardly yet awake.  When hands were\nlaid on Jesus, one of the disciples cried, \"Shall we smite with the\nsword?\"  And, without waiting for an answer, he struck.  But what a\nridiculous blow!  How like a man half-awake!  Instead of the head, he\nonly smote the ear.  This blow would have been dearly paid for had not\nJesus, with perfect presence of mind, interposed between Peter and the\nswords which were being drawn to cut him down.  \"Suffer ye thus far,\"\nHe said, keeping the soldiers back; and, touching the ear, He healed\nit, and saved His poor disciple.\n\nSurely it was even with a smile that Jesus said to Peter, \"Put up again\nthy sword into his place; for all they that take the sword shall perish\nwith the sword.\"  Inside the scabbard, not outside, was the sword's\nplace; it was out of place in this cause; and those who wield the sword\nwithout just reason, and without receiving the orders of competent\nauthority, are themselves liable to give life for life.\n\nBut it was with the high-strung eloquence with which He had spoken to\nHis enemies that Jesus further showed Peter how inconsistent was his\nact.  It was inconsistent with his Master's dignity; \"For,\" said He,\n\"if I ask My Father, He would presently give Me more than twelve\nlegions of angels;\" and what against such a force were this\nmiscellaneous band, numbering at the most the tenth part of a legion of\nmen?  It was inconsistent with Scripture: \"How then shall the\nScriptures be fulfilled, that thus it must be?\"  It was inconsistent\nwith His own purpose and His Father's will: \"The cup which My Father\nhath given Me, shall I not drink it?\"\n\nPoor Peter!  On this occasion he was thoroughly like himself.  There\nwas a kind of rightness and nobleness in what he did; but it was in the\nwrong place.  If he had only been as prompt inside Gethsemane to do\nwhat he was bidden as outside it to do what he was not bidden!  How\nmuch better if he could have drawn the spiritual sword and cut on the\near which was to be betrayed by a maid-servant's taunt!  Peter's\nconduct on this occasion, as often on other occasions, showed how poor\na guide enthusiasm is when it is not informed with the mind and spirit\nof Christ.\n\n\nIV.\n\nPerhaps it was by the recollection of how deeply he had vowed to stick\nby Christ, even if he should have to die with Him, that Peter was\npricked on to do something.  The others, however, had said the same\nthing.  Did they remember it now?  It is to be feared, not: the\napparition of mortal danger drove everything out of their minds but the\ninstinct of self-preservation.  Sometimes, in cases of severe illness,\nespecially of mental disease, the curious effect may be observed--that\na face into which years of culture have slowly wrought the stamp of\nrefinement and dignity entirely loses this, and reverts to the original\npeasant type.  So the fright of their Master's arrest, coming so\nsuddenly on the prayerless and unprepared disciples, undid, for the\ntime, what their years of intercourse with Him had effected; and they\nsank back into Galilean fishermen again.  This was really what they\nwere from the arrest to the resurrection.\n\nHere again their conduct is in absolute contrast with their Master's.\nAs a mother-bird, when her brood is assailed, goes forward to meet the\nenemy, or as a good shepherd stands forth between his flock and danger,\nso Jesus, when His captors drew nigh, threw Himself between them and\nHis followers.  It was partly with this in view that He went so boldly\nout and concentrated attention on Himself by the challenge, \"Whom seek\nye?\"  When they replied, \"Jesus of Nazareth,\" He said, \"I am He: if\ntherefore ye seek Me, let these go their way.\"  And the fright into\nwhich they were thrown made them forget His followers in their anxiety\nto secure Himself.\n\nThis was as He intended.  St. John, in narrating it, makes the curious\nremark, that this was done that the saying might be fulfilled which He\nspake, \"Of them which Thou gavest Me have I lost none.\"  This saying\noccurs in His great intercessory prayer, offered at the first Communion\ntable; but in its original place it evidently means that He had lost\nnone of them in a spiritual sense, whereas here it seems to have only\nthe sense of losing any of them by the swords of the soldiers or by the\ncross, if they had been arrested with Him.  But a deep hint underlies\nthis surface meaning.  St. John suggests that, if any of them had been\ntaken along with Him, the likelihood is that they would have been\nunequal to the crisis: they would have denied Him, and so, in the\nsadder sense, would have been lost.\n\nJesus, knowing too well that this was the state of the case, made for\nthem a way of escape, and \"they all forsook Him and fled.\"  It was\nperhaps as well, for they might have done worse.  Yet what an\nanticlimax to the asseveration which everyone of them had made that\nvery evening, \"If I should die with Thee, I will not deny Thee in any\nwise!\"  I have sometimes thought what an honour it would have been to\nChristianity, what a golden leaf in the history of human nature, had\none or two of them--say, the brothers James and John--been strong\nenough to go with Him to prison and to death.  We should, indeed, have\nmissed St. John's writings in that case--his Revelation, Gospel and\nEpistles.  But what a revelation that would have been, what a gospel,\nwhat a living epistle!\n\nIt was not, however, to be.  Jesus had to go unaccompanied: \"I have\ntrodden the winepress alone; and of the people there was none with Me.\"\nSo they \"bound Him and led Him away.\"\n\n\n\n[1] _Speira_=cohors, tenth part of legion.  See Ramsay, R.A., 381.\n\n[2] _katephilesen_.  It is used of the woman who was a sinner, when she\nkissed the feet of the Saviour.\n\n[3] Psalm lv. 13-14.\n\n[4] Other instances in Sueskind, _Passionsschule_, _in loc_.\n\n[5] See fuller details in _Imago Christi_, last chapter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE ECCLESIASTICAL TRIAL\n\nOver the Kedron, up the slope to the city, through the gates, along the\nsilent streets, the procession passed, with Jesus in the midst;\nmidnight stragglers, perhaps, hurrying forward from point to point to\nask what was ado, and peering towards the Prisoner's face, before they\ndiverged again towards their own homes.[1]  He was conducted to the\nresidence of the high priest, where His trial ensued.\n\nJesus had to undergo two trials--the one ecclesiastical, the other\ncivil; the one before Caiaphas the high priest, the other before\nPontius Pilate the governor.\n\nThe reason of this was, that Judaea was at that time under Roman rule,\nforming a portion of the Roman province of Syria and administered by a\nRoman official, who resided in the splendid new seaport of Caesarea,\nfifty miles away from Jerusalem, but had also a palace in Jerusalem,\nwhich he occasionally visited.\n\nIt was not the policy of Rome to strip the countries of which she\nbecame mistress of all power.  She flattered them by leaving in their\nhands at least the insignia of self-government, and she conceded to\nthem as much home rule as was compatible with the retention of her\nparamount authority.  She was specially tolerant in matters of\nreligion.  Thus the ancient ecclesiastical tribunal of the Jews, the\nSanhedrim, was still allowed to try all religious questions and punish\noffenders.  Only, if the sentence chanced to be a capital one, the case\nhad to be re-tried by the governor, and the carrying out of the\nsentence, if it was confirmed, devolved upon him.\n\nIt was at the instance of the ecclesiastical authorities that Jesus was\narrested, and they condemned Him to death; but they were not at liberty\nto carry out their sentence: they had to take Him before Pilate, who\nchanced at the time to be in the city, and he tried the case over\nagain, they of course being the accusers at his bar.\n\nNot only were there two trials, but in each trial there were three\nseparate stages or acts.  In the first, or ecclesiastical trial, Jesus\nhad first to appear before Annas, then before Caiaphas and the\nSanhedrim during the night, and again before the same body after\ndaybreak.  And in the second, or civil trial, He appeared first before\nPilate, who refused to confirm the judgment of the Jews; then Pilate\nattempted to rid himself of the case by sending the Culprit to Herod of\nGalilee, who happened also to be at the time in Jerusalem; but the case\ncame back to the Roman governor again, and, against his conscience, he\nconfirmed the capital sentence.\n\nBut let me explain more fully what were the three acts in the\necclesiastical trial.[2]\n\nJesus, we are informed by St. John, was taken first to Annas.  This was\nan old man of seventy years, who had been high priest twenty years\nbefore.  As many as five of his sons succeeded him in this office,\nwhich at that period was not a life appointment, but was generally held\nonly for a short time; and the reigning high priest at this time,\nCaiaphas, was his son-in-law.  Annas was a man of very great\nconsequence, the virtual head of ecclesiastical affairs, though\nCaiaphas was the nominal head.  He had come originally from Alexandria\nin Egypt on the invitation of Herod the Great.  He and his family were\nan able, ambitious and arrogant race.  As their numbers multiplied,\nthey became a sort of ruling caste, pushing themselves into all\nimportant offices.  They were Sadducees, and were perfect types of that\nparty--cold, haughty, worldly.  They were intensely unpopular in the\ncountry; but they were feared as much as they were disliked.  Greedy of\ngain, they ground the people with heavy ritual imposts.  It is said\nthat the traffic within the courts of the temple, which Jesus condemned\nso sternly a few days before, was carried on not only with their\nconnivance but for their enrichment.  If this was the case, the conduct\nof Jesus on that occasion may have profoundly incensed the\nhigh-priestly caste against Him.\n\nIndeed, it was probably the depth of his hatred which made Annas wish\nto see Jesus in the hands of justice.  The wary Sadducee had in all\nlikelihood taken a leading part in the transaction with Judas and in\nthe sending out of the troops for Christ's apprehension.  He,\ntherefore, waited out of bed to see what the upshot was to be; and\nthose who took Jesus brought Him to Annas first.  But whatever\ninterrogation Annas may have subjected Him to was entirely informal.[3]\n\nIt allowed time, however, to get together the Sanhedrim.  Messengers\nwere dispatched to scour the city for the members at the midnight hour,\nbecause the case was urgent and could not brook delay.  None knew what\nmight happen if the multitude, when it awoke in the morning, found the\npopular Teacher in the hands of His unpopular enemies.  But, if the\ntrial were all over before daybreak and Jesus already in the strong\nhands of the Romans before the multitude had learnt that anything was\ngoing on, there would be nothing to fear.  So the Sanhedrim was\nassembled under cloud of night; and the proceedings went forward in the\nsmall hours of the morning in the house of Caiaphas, to which Jesus had\nbeen removed.\n\nThis was not strictly legal, however, because the letter of the law did\nnot allow this court to meet by night.  On this account, although the\nproceedings were complete and the sentence agreed upon during the\nnight, it was considered necessary to hold another sitting at daybreak.\nThis was the third stage of the trial; but it was merely a brief\nrehearsal, for form's sake, of what had been already done.[4]\nTherefore, we must return to the proceedings during the night, which\ncontain the kernel of the matter.\n\nImagine, then, a large room forming one side of the court of an\nOriental house, from which it is separated only by a row of pillars, so\nthat what is going on in the lighted interior is visible to those\noutside.  The room is semicircular.  Round the arc of the semicircle\nthe half-hundred or more[5] members sit on a divan.  Caiaphas, the\npresident, occupies a kind of throne in the centre of the opposite\nwall.  In front stands the Accused, facing him, with the jailers on the\none side and the witnesses on the other.\n\nHow ought any trial to commence?  Surely with a clear statement of the\ncrime alleged and with the production of witnesses to support the\ncharge.  But, instead of beginning in this way, \"the high priest asked\nJesus of His disciples and of His doctrine.\"\n\nThe insinuation was that He was multiplying disciples for some secret\ndesign and teaching them a secret doctrine, which might be construed\ninto a project of revolution.  Jesus, still throbbing with the\nindignity of being arrested under cloud of night, as if He were anxious\nto escape, and by a force so large as to suggest that He was the head\nof a revolutionary band, replied, with lofty self-consciousness, \"Why\naskest thou Me?  Ask them that heard Me what I have said unto them;\nbehold, they know what I said.\"  Why had they arrested Him if they had\nyet to learn what He had said and done?  They were trying to make Him\nout to be an underground schemer; but they, with their arrests in\nsecrecy and their midnight trials, were themselves the sons of darkness.\n\nSuch simple and courageous speech was alien to that place, which knew\nonly the whining of suppliants, the smooth flatteries of sycophants,\nand the diplomatic phrases of advocates; and a jailer, perhaps seeing\nthe indignant blush mount into the face of the high priest, clenched\nhis fist and struck Jesus on the mouth, asking, \"Answerest Thou the\nhigh priest so?\"  Poor hireling! better for him that his hand had\nwithered ere it struck that blow.  Almost the same thing once happened\nto St. Paul in the same place, and he could not help hurling back a\nstinging epithet of contempt and indignation.  Jesus was betrayed into\nno such loss of temper.  But what shall be said of a tribunal, and an\necclesiastical tribunal, which could allow an untried Prisoner to be\nthus abused in open court by one of its minions?\n\nThe high priest had, however, been stopped on the tack which he had\nfirst tried, and was compelled to do what he ought to have begun\nwith--to call witnesses.  But this, too, turned out a pitiful failure.\nThey had not had time to get a charge properly made out and witnesses\ncited; and there was no time to wait.  Evidence had to be extemporized;\nand it was swept up apparently from the underlings and hangers on of\nthe court.  It is expressly said by St. Matthew that \"they sought false\nwitness against Jesus to put Him to death.\"  To put Him to death was\nwhat in their hearts they were resolved upon,--they were only trying to\ntrump up a legal pretext, and they were not scrupulous.  The attempt\nwas, however, far from successful.  The witnesses could not be got to\nagree together or to tell a consistent story.  Many were tried, but the\nfiasco grew more and more ridiculous.\n\nAt length two were got to agree about something they had heard from\nHim, out of which, it was hoped, a charge could be constructed.  They\nhad heard Him say, \"I will destroy this temple that is made with hands,\nand within three days I will build another made without hands.\"  It was\na sentence of His early ministry, obviously of high poetic meaning,\nwhich they were reproducing as the vulgarest prose; although, even thus\ninterpreted, it is difficult to see what they could have made of it;\nbecause, if the first half of it meant that He was to destroy the\ntemple, the second promised to restore it again.  The high priest saw\ntoo well that they were making nothing of it; and, starting up and\nspringing forward, he demanded of Jesus, \"Answerest Thou nothing?  What\nis it which these witness against Thee?\"  He affected to believe that\nit was something of enormity that had been alleged; but it was really\nbecause he knew that nothing could be founded on it that he gave way to\nsuch unseemly excitement.\n\nJesus had looked on in absolute silence while the witnesses against Him\nwere annihilating one another; nor did He now answer a word in response\nto the high priest's interruption.  He did not need to speak: silence\nspoke better than the loudest words could have done.  It brought home\nto His judges the ridiculousness and the shamefulness of their\nposition.  Even their hardened consciences began to be uneasy, as that\ncalm Face looked down on them and their procedure with silent dignity.\nIt was by the uneasiness which he was feeling that the high priest was\nmade so loud and shrill.\n\nIn short, he had been beaten along this second line quite as completely\nas he had been along the first.  But he had still a last card, and now\nhe played it.  Returning to his throne and confronting Jesus with\ntheatrical solemnity, he said, \"I adjure Thee by the living God that\nThou tell us whether Thou be the Christ, the Son of God.\"  That is to\nsay, he put Him on oath to tell what He claimed to be; for among the\nJews the oath was pronounced by the judge, not by the prisoner.\n\nThis was one of the great moments in the life of Christ.  Apparently He\nrecognised the right of the high priest to put Him on oath; or at least\nHe saw that silence now might be construed into the withdrawal of His\nclaims.  He knew, indeed, that the question was put merely for the\npurpose of incriminating Him, and that to answer it meant death to\nHimself.  But He who had silenced those by whom the title of Messiah\nhad been thrust upon Him, when they wished to make Him a king, now\nclaimed the title when it was the signal for condemnation.  Decidedly\nand solemnly He answered, \"Yes, I am\"; and, as if the crisis had caused\nwithin Him a great access of self-consciousness, He proceeded,\n\"Hereafter shall ye see the Son of Man sitting on the right hand of\npower and coming in the clouds of heaven.\" [6]  For the moment they\nwere His judges, but one day He would be their Judge; it was only of\nHis earthly life that they could dispose, but He would have to dispose\nof their eternal destiny.\n\nIt has often been said that Christians have claimed for Christ what He\nnever claimed for Himself; that He never claimed to be any more than a\nman, but they have made Him a God.  But this great statement, made upon\noath, must impress every honest mind.  Every effort has, indeed, been\nmade to deplete its terms of their importance and to reduce them to the\nlowest possible value.  It is argued, for example, that, when the high\npriest asked if He were \"the Son of God,\" he meant no more than when he\nasked if He were \"the Christ.\"  But what is to be said of Christ's\ndescription of Himself as \"sitting on the right hand of power and\ncoming in the clouds of heaven\"?  Can He who is to be the Judge of men,\nsearching their hearts to the bottom, estimating the value of their\nperformances, and, in accordance with these estimates, fixing their\neternal station and degree, be a mere man?  The greatest and the wisest\nof men are well aware that in the history of every brother man, and\neven in the heart of a little child, there are secrets and mysteries\nwhich they cannot fathom.  No mere man can accurately measure the\ncharacter of a fellow-creature; he cannot even estimate his own.\n\nHow this great confession lifts the whole scene!  We see no longer\nthese small men and their sordid proceedings; but the Son of man\nbearing witness to Himself in the audience of the universe.  How little\nwe care now what the Jewish judges will say about Him!  This great\nconfession reverberates down the ages, and the heart of the world, as\nit hears it from His lips, says, Amen.\n\nThe high priest had achieved his end at last.  As a high priest was\nexpected to do when he heard blasphemy, he rent his clothes, and,\nturning to his colleagues, he said, \"What need have we of witnesses?\nbehold, now ye have heard His blasphemy.\"  And they all assented that\nJesus was guilty, and that the sentence must be death.\n\nSometimes good-hearted Bible-readers, in perusing these scenes, are\ntroubled with the thought that the judges of Jesus were conscientious.\nWas it not their duty, when anyone came forward with Messianic\npretensions, to judge whether or not his claim was just? and did they\nnot honestly believe that Jesus was not what He professed to be?  No\ndoubt they did honestly believe so.  We must ascend to a much earlier\nperiod to be able to judge their conduct accurately.  It was when the\nclaims of Jesus were first submitted to them that they went astray.\nHe, being such as He was, could only have been welcomed and appreciated\nby expectant, receptive, holy minds.  The ecclesiastical authorities of\nJudaea in that age were anything but expectant, receptive and holy.\nThey were totally incapable of understanding Him, and saw no beauty\nthat they should desire Him.  As He often told them Himself, being such\nas they were, they could not believe.  The fault lay not so much in\nwhat they did as in what they were.  Being in the wrong path, they went\nforward to the end.  It may be said that they walked according to their\nlight; but the light that was in them was darkness.  Their proceedings,\nhowever, on this occasion will not tend to soften the heart of anyone\nwho looks into them carefully.  They had hardly the least show of\njustice.  There was no regular charge or regular evidence, and no\nthought whatever of allowing the Accused to bring counter-evidence; the\nsame persons were both accusers and judges; the sentence was a foregone\nconclusion; and the entire proceedings consisted of a series of devices\nto force the Accused into some statement which would supply a\ncolourable pretext for condemning Him.[7]\n\nBut it was by what ensued after the sentence of condemnation was passed\nthat these men cut themselves off forever from the sympathy of the\ntolerant and generous.  A court of law ought to be a place of dignity;\nwhen a great issue is tried and a solemn judgment passed, it ought to\nimpress the judges themselves; even the condemned, when a death\nsentence has been passed, ought to be hedged round with a certain awe\nand respect.  But that blow inflicted with impunity at the commencement\nof the trial by a minion of the court was too clear an index of the\nstate of mind of all present.  There was no solemnity or greatness of\nany kind in their thoughts; nothing but resentment and spite at Him who\nhad thwarted and defied them, lessened them in the public estimation\nand stopped their unholy gains.  A perfect sea of such feelings had\nlong been gathering in their hearts; and now, when the opportunity\ncame, it broke loose upon Him.  They struck Him with their sticks; they\nspat in His face; they drew something over His head and, smiting Him\nagain, cried, \"Christ, prophesy who smote Thee.\" [8]  One would wish to\nbelieve that it was only by the miserable underlings that such things\nwere done; but the narrative makes it too clear that the masters led\nthe way and the servants followed.\n\nThere are terrible things in man.  There are some depths in human\nnature into which it is scarcely safe to look.  It was by the very\nperfection of Christ that the uttermost evil of His enemies was brought\nout.  There is a passage in \"Paradise Lost,\" where a band of angels,\nsent out to scour Paradise in search of Satan, who is hidden in the\ngarden, discover him in the shape of a toad \"squat at the ear of Eve.\"\nIthuriel, one of the band, touches him with his spear, whereat,\nsurprised, he starts up in his own shape,--\n\n        \"for no falsehood can endure\n  Touch of celestial temper, but returns\n  Of force to its own likeness.\"\n\nBut the touch of perfect goodness has often the opposite effect: it\ntransforms the angel into the toad, which is evil's own likeness.\n\nChrist was now getting into close grips with the enemy He had come to\nthis world to overcome; and, as it clutched Him for the final wrestle,\nit exhibited all its ugliness and discharged all its venom.[9] The claw\nof the dragon was in His flesh, and its foul breath in His mouth.  We\ncannot conceive what such insult and dishonour must have been to His\nsensitive and regal mind.  But He rallied His heart to endure and not\nto faint; for He had come to be the death of sin, and its death was to\nbe the salvation of the world.\n\n\n\n[1] Here would come in the curious little notice in St. Mark: \"And\nthere followed Him a certain young man, having a linen cloth cast about\nhis naked body; and the young men laid hold on him; and he left the\nlinen cloth and fled from them naked\"; on which I have not commented,\nnot well knowing, in truth, what to make of it.  It may be designed to\nshow the rudeness of the soldiery, and the peril in which any follower\nof Jesus would have been had he been caught.  Some have supposed that\nthe young man was St. Mark, and that this is the painter's signature in\nan obscure corner of his picture.  (See Holzmann in _Handcommentar zum\nNeuen Testament_.)  In the first volume of the _Expositor_ there is a\npaper on the subject by Dr. Cox, but it does not throw much light on it.\n\n[2] On the Sanhedrim and the high priests see Schuerer, _The Jewish\nPeople in the Time of Christ_, div. ii., vol. i.\n\n[3] This, many think, is what is given in St. John.\n\n[4] Many think that this is what is given in St. Luke.\n\n[5] The full number was seventy-one, including the president.\n\n[6] See Psalm cx. 1, and Dan. vii. 13.\n\n[7] Even Jost, the Jewish historian, calls it a murder; but he does not\nbelieve that there was an actual trial; and in this Edersheim agrees\nwith him.\n\n[8] In allusion to His claim to be the Messianic Prophet.  The Roman\nsoldiers, on the other hand, ridiculed His claim to be a King.\n\n[9] \"The central figure is the holiest Person in history, but round Him\nstand or strive the most opposed and contrasted moral types. . . .  The\nmen who touch Him in this supreme hour of His history do so only to\nhave their essential character disclosed.\"--FAIRBAIRN.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTHE GREAT DENIAL\n\nTo the ecclesiastical trial of our Lord there is a side-piece, over\nwhich we must linger before proceeding to the civil trial.  At the very\nhour when in the hall of the high priest's house Christ was uttering\nHis great confession, one of His disciples was, in the court of the\nsame building, pouring out denial after denial.\n\n\nI.\n\nWhen Jesus was bound in Gethsemane and led away back to Jerusalem, all\nHis disciples forsook Him and fled.  They disappeared, I suppose, among\nthe bushes and trees of the garden and escaped into the surrounding\ncountry or wherever they thought they would be safe.\n\nBut two of the Twelve--St. Peter and St. John, who tells the\nstory--soon rallied from the first panic and followed, at a\ndistance,[1] the band in whose midst their Master was.  Keeping in the\nshadow of the trees by the roadside, keeping in the shadow of the\nhouses in the streets, they stole after the moving mass.  At last, when\nit got near its destination--the palace of the high priest---they\nhurried forward; and St. John went in with the crowd; but somehow,\nprobably through irresolution, St. Peter was left outside in the\nstreet; and the door was shut.\n\nTo understand what follows, it is necessary to describe more in detail\nthe construction of such a house as the high priest's palace; for it\nwas very unlike most of our houses.  A Western house looks into the\nstreet, but an Oriental into its own interior, having no opening to the\nfront except a great arched gateway, shut with a heavy door or gate.\nWhen this door is opened, it discloses a broad passage, penetrating the\nfront building and leading into a square, paved courtyard, open to the\nsky, round which the house is built, and into which its rooms, both\nupstairs and downstairs, look.  A similar arrangement is to be seen in\nsome large warehouses in our own cities, or you may have seen it in\nlarge hotels on the Continent.  It only requires to be added that on\nthe side of the passage, inside the outer gate, there is a room or\nlodge for the porter or portress, who opens and shuts the gate; and in\nthe gate there is a little wicket by which individuals can be let in or\nout.\n\nWhen the band conducting Jesus appeared in front of the palace, no\ndoubt the portress opened the large gate to admit them and then shut it\nagain.  They passed under the archway into the court, which they\ncrossed, and then entered one of the apartments overlooking the\ncourtyard.  But the police and other underlings employed in the arrest,\ntheir work being now done, stayed outside, and, as it was midnight and\nthe weather was cold, they lighted a fire there under the open sky and,\ngathering round it, began to warm themselves.\n\nAs has been said, John went in through the gate with the crowd, but\nPeter was somehow shut out.  John, who seems to have occupied a higher\nsocial position than the rest of the Twelve, was known to the high\npriest, and, therefore, probably was acquainted with the palace and\nknew the servants; and, when he noticed that Peter had been left out,\nhe went to the portress and got her to let him in by the wicket-gate.\n\nIt was a friendly act; and yet, as the event proved, it was\nunintentionally an ill turn: John led Peter into temptation.  The best\nof friends may do this sometimes to one another; for the situation into\nwhich one man may enter without peril may be dangerous to another.  One\nman may mingle freely in company which another cannot enter without\nterrible risks.  There are amusements in which one Christian can take\npart, though they would ruin another if he touched them.  A mind\nmatured and disciplined may read books which would kindle the fire of\nhell in a mind less experienced.  There are always two things that go\nto the making of a temptation: there is the particular set of\ncircumstances to be encountered on the one hand, and there is the\npeculiar character or history of the person entering into the situation\non the other.  We need to remember this if we are to defend either\nourselves or others against temptation.\n\n\nII.\n\nJohn no doubt, as soon as he got Peter inside the door, hurried away\nacross the court into the hall where Jesus was, to witness the\nproceedings.\n\nNot so Peter.  He was not familiar with the place as John was; and he\nhad the shyness of a plain man at the sight of the inside of a great\nhouse.  Besides, he was under fear of being recognized as a follower of\nChrist and apprehended.  Now also the unlucky blow he had made at\nMalchus at the gate of Gethsemane had to be paid for, because it\ngreatly increased his chance of detection.\n\nHe remained, therefore, just inside the great door, watching from the\nshadows of the archway what was going on inside, and, without knowing\nit, himself being watched by the portress from her coigne of vantage.\nHe was ill at ease; for he did not know what to do.  He did not dare to\ngo, like John, into the judgment-hall.  Perhaps he half wished he could\nget out into the street again.  He was in a trap.\n\nAt last he strolled forward to the group round the fire and, sitting\ndown among them, commenced to warm himself.  It was a miscellaneous\ngroup there in the glare of the fire, and no notice was taken of him.\nHe took his place as if he were one of them.\n\nIt was, however, a dangerous situation in another sense than he\nsupposed.  It was of bodily peril he was in terror; he did not\nanticipate danger to his soul; yet this was very near.  It is always\ndangerous when a follower of Christ is sitting among Christ's enemies\nwithout letting it be known what he is.  \"Blessed is the man that\nwalketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of\nsinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.\"  It is more than\nprobable that when Peter sat down the air was ringing with jest and\nlaughter about Jesus; but he did not interrupt: he kept silence and\ntried to look as like one of the scorners as he could.  But not to\nconfess Christ is the next step to denying Him.\n\nTemptation, as is its wont, came suddenly and from the most unexpected\nquarter.  As has been said, when he was skulking beneath the archway,\nhis movements were noted by the portress.  They were suspicious, and\nshe, with a woman's cleverness, divined his secret.  Accordingly, when\nshe was relieved at her post by another maid, she not only pointed him\nout to this companion and communicated to her what she thought about\nhim, but, in passing to her room, she went up to the fire among the\nsoldiers and, looking him straight in the face, said, with a malicious\ntwinkle in her eye, This is one of the Nazarene's followers.\n\nPeter was taken completely by surprise.  It was as if a mask had been\ntorn from his face.  In a moment the instinct of terror seized him;\nperhaps, too, the instinct of shame at being thought a disciple of Him\nthey were mocking.  Indeed, there was a further shame: how could he\nconfess himself the disciple of the Master whom he had heard blasphemed\nwithout protest?  He had denied his Master in act before he denied Him\nin word; and the preceding act made the word also necessary.  \"I do not\nknow what you mean,\" he said, with a surly frown; and away she tripped\nlaughing, having done her work quite successfully.\n\nNone pursued the subject.  But Peter was uneasy, and took the earliest\nopportunity of escaping from the fireside.  He went away into the\narchway, intending apparently, if he could, to get out of the place\naltogether.  But here the trap was closed; for the other maid, whose\nattention had been directed to him, and who may have been laughing from\na distance at her neighbour's sally, was standing at the door of her\nlodge, with two or three men; and, pointing him out to them as he came\nforward, she said, \"That is one of the Nazarene's followers.\"\n\nPoor Peter! felled to the ground a second time by the touch of a\nwoman's hand.  But how often has the saucy tongue and jeering laugh of\na woman made a man ashamed of the highest and holiest!  Peter flung at\nher an angry oath and, turning on his heel, went back again to the fire.\n\nHe was now completely panic-stricken, and lost all self-control.  He\nwas boiling with conflicting emotions and could not keep quiet.\nAssuming an air of defiance and indifference, he plunged into the\nconversation, speaking loudly to throw off suspicion, but really\ndefeating his own object; for he drew attention on himself, and they\nscanned him the more narrowly the more excited he became.  A relative\nof Malchus, whose ear he had cut off, recognised him.  His loud country\nvoice and rough Galilean accent aroused the suspicions of others.  To\nbait such a pretender was a welcome diversion in the idle night, and\nsoon they were all in full cry after the quarry.\n\nPeter was thoroughly lost; like a bull in the arena attacked and\nstabbed on every side, he became blind with rage, terror and shame;\nand, pouring out denials, he added to them oaths and curses hurled at\nhis adversaries.\n\nThe latter element was, no doubt, the resurrection of an old\nfisherman's habit, long since dead and buried.  Peter was just the man\nlikely to be a profane swearer in his youth--the headlong man of\ntemper, who likes to say a thing with as much emphasis and exaggeration\nas possible.  This is a sin whose power is generally broken instantly\nat conversion.  While there are sins which linger on for years and\nrequire to be crucified by inches, profane swearing often dies an\ninstantaneous death.  But even in this case it is difficult to get quit\nof the evil past.  In Peter this sin may have seemed to die at his\nconversion; for years it had been dead and buried; yet, when the\nfavourable moment came, lo and behold, there it was again in vigorous\nlife.  Old habits of sin are hard to kill.  We seem to have killed and\nburied them; but do you not sometimes hear a knocking beneath the\nground? do you not feel the dead thing turning in its coffin, and see\nthe earth moving above its grave?  This is the penalty of the days\ngiven to the flesh.  Till his dying day the man who has been a drunkard\nor a fornicator, a liar or a swearer, will have to keep watch and ward\nover the graveyard in which he has buried the past.\n\nYet there was a kind of method in the madness of Peter's profanity.\nWhen he wanted to prove that he was none of Christ's, he could not do\nbetter than take to cursing.  They did not credit his assertions that\nhe had no connection with his Master, but they could not help believing\nhis sins.  Nobody belonging to Jesus, they knew, would speak as Peter\nwas doing.  It is one of the strongest testimonies to Jesus still, that\neven those who do not believe in Him expect cleanness of speech and of\nconduct from His followers, and are astonished if those who bear His\nname do things which when done by others are matters of course.\n\n\nIV.\n\nWhile Peter was in the midst of this outbreak of denial and profanity,\nsuddenly he saw the eyes of his tormentors turned away from him to\nanother object.[2]  It was Jesus, whom His enemies had condemned in the\nneighbouring judgment-hall, and whom they were now leading, amidst\nblows and reproaches, across the courtyard to the guard-room, where He\nwas to be kept for two or three hours till a subsequent stage of His\ntrial came on.  As Jesus stepped down out of the hall into the\ncourtyard, His ear had caught the accents of His disciple, and, stung\nwith unutterable anguish, He turned quickly round in the direction\nwhence the sounds proceeded.  At the same moment Peter turned, and they\nlooked one another full in the face.  Jesus did not speak; for a single\nsyllable, even of surprise, would have betrayed His disciple.  Nor\ncould He linger; for the soldiers were hurrying Him on.  But for a\nsingle instant their eyes met, and soul looked into soul.  Who shall\nsay what was in that look of Christ?[3]  There may be a world in a\nlook.  It may be more eloquent than a whole volume of words.  It may\nreveal far more than the lips can ever utter.  One soul may give itself\naway to another in a look.  A look may beatify or plunge in the depths\nof despair.\n\nThe look of Jesus was a talisman dissolving the spell in which Peter\nwas held.  Sin is always a kind of temporary madness; and it was\nmanifestly so in this case.  Peter was so bewildered with terror, anger\nand excitement that he did not know what he was doing.  But the look of\nJesus brought him to himself, and immediately he acted like a man.  He\nmade at once for the exit with impetuous speed.[4]  And now nothing\nstood in his way: he got past the maid and her companions without\ntrouble.  For, indeed, the trap of temptation is only an illusion.  To\na resolute man it presents no obstacles.\n\nBut further, the look of Christ was a mirror in which Peter saw\nhimself.  He saw what Christ thought of him.  The past came rushing\nback.  He was the man who, in a great and never-to-be-forgotten moment,\nhad confessed Christ and earned His hearty recognition.  He was the man\nwho, a few hours ago, had vowed, above all the rest, that he never\nwould deny his Master.  And now he had deserted Him and wounded Him to\nthe heart in His utmost need.  He had placed himself among His enemies\nas one of themselves and, with oaths and curses, trodden His sacred\nname beneath his feet.  He had put off the disciple and reverted to the\nrudeness of his godless youth.  He was a perjured traitor.  All this\nwas in that look of Christ.\n\nBut there was far more in it.  It was a rescuing look.  If any friend\nhad met Peter rushing out from the scene of his sin, he might well have\nbeen terrified for what might happen.  Where was he rushing to?  Was it\nto the precipice over which Judas plunged not many hours afterwards?\nPeter was not very far from that.  Had it been an angry look he saw on\nChrist's face when their eyes met, this might have been his fate.  But\nthere was not a spark of anger in it.  There was pain, no doubt, and\nthere was immeasurable disappointment.  But deeper than these--rising\nup from below them and submerging them--there was the Saviour's\ninstinct, that instinct which made Him reach out His hand and grasp\nPeter when he was sinking in the sea.  With this same instinct He\ngrasped Him now.\n\nIn that look of an instant Peter saw forgiveness and unutterable love.\nIf he saw himself in it, he saw still more his Saviour--such a\nrevelation of the heart of Christ as he had never yet known.  He saw\nnow what kind of Master he had denied; and it broke his heart.  It is\nthis that always breaks the heart.  It is not our sin that makes us\nweep; it is when we see what kind of Saviour we have sinned against.\nHe wept bitterly; not to wash out his sin, but because even already he\nknew it had been washed out.  The former weeping is a pelting shower;\nthis is the close, prolonged downpour, which penetrates deep and\nfertilises the plants of the soul at their very roots.\n\nIndeed, this was the real beginning of all the good St. Peter was to do\nin the world.  But we will not speak of this now.  Let our last thought\nbe of Him who, in the crisis and extremity of His own suffering, when\nHe heard His name not only denied but mingled with oaths and curses,\nyielded not one moment to the resentment which such an act of treachery\nmight have occasioned, but, forgetting His own sorrows and overmastered\nwith the instincts of the Saviour, threw into a look such a world of\nkindness and of love that, in an instant, it lifted the falling\ndisciple from the gulf and set him on the rock where he ever afterwards\nstood, himself a rock in the constancy of his faith and the vigor of\nhis testimony.\n\n\n\n[1] _makrothen _.\n\n[2] It is to St. Luke we owe the account here given of Peter's\nawakening; but he also refers to the crowing of the cock, the only\ncause mentioned by the other Evangelists.  There is no difficulty in\nunderstanding that such a psychological crisis may have been due to two\nlines of suggestion.\n\n[3] Mrs. Browning's sonnets on this subject must be quoted in full:\n\n  \"Two sayings of the Holy Scriptures beat\n  Like pulses in the Church's brow and breast;\n  And by them we find rest in our unrest,\n  And, heart-deep in salt tears, do yet entreat\n  God's fellowship, as if on heavenly seat.\n  The first is JESUS WEPT; whereon is prest\n  Full many a sobbing face, that drops its best\n  And sweetest waters on the record sweet.\n  And one is where the Christ, denied and scorned,\n  LOOKED UPON PETER.  Oh to render plain,\n  By help of having loved a little and mourned,\n  That look of sovran love and sovran pain,\n  Which He, who could not sin yet suffered, turned\n  On him who could reject but not sustain.\n\n  \"The Saviour looked on Peter.  Ay, no word,\n  No gesture of reproach; the heavens serene,\n  Though heavy with armed justice, did not lean\n  Their thunders that way; the forsaken Lord\n  _Looked_ only on the traitor.  None record\n  What that look was; none guess; for those who have seen\n  Wronged lovers loving through a death-pang keen,\n  Or pale-cheeked martyrs smiling to a sword,\n  Have missed Jehovah at the judgment call.\n  And Peter from the height of blasphemy--\n  'I never knew this man'--did quail and fall,\n  As knowing straight THAT GOD; and turned free,\n  And went out speechless from the face of all,\n  And filled the silence, weeping bitterly.\n\n  I think: that look of Christ might seem to say:\n  'Thou, Peter! art thou a common stone\n  Which I at last must break My heart upon,\n  For all God's charge to His high angels may\n  Guard My feet better?  Did I yesterday\n  Wash _thy_ feet, My beloved, that they should run\n  Quick to destroy me 'neath the morning sun?\n  And do thy kisses, like the rest, betray?\n  The cock crows coldly.  Go, and manifest\n  A late contrition, but no bootless fear!\n  For, when thy final need is dreariest,\n  Thou shall not be denied, as I am here;\n  My voice to God and angels shall attest,\n  _Because I KNOW this man, let him be clear_.'\"\n\n[4] This may be the meaning of _epibalon_; but it is much disputed.\nOther interpretations are: (1) = _epeballe klaiein_, he began to weep;\n(2) with head covered--in mourning.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE CIVIL TRIAL\n\nIn the chapter before last we saw the Sanhedrim pass a death sentence\non Jesus.  Gladly would they have carried it out in the Jewish\nfashion--by stoning.  But, as was then explained, it was not in their\npower: their Roman masters, while conceding to the native courts the\npower of trying and punishing minor offences, reserved to themselves\nthe prerogative of life and death; and a case in which a capital\nsentence had been passed in a Jewish court had to go before the\nrepresentative of Rome in the country, who tried it over again, and\nmight either confirm or reverse the sentence.  Accordingly, after\npassing sentence on Jesus themselves, the Sanhedrists had to lead Him\naway to the tribunal of the governor.\n\n\nI.\n\nThe representative of Imperial Rome in Palestine at this time was\nPontius Pilate.  The position which he held may perhaps be best\nrealised by thinking of one of our own subordinate governors in India;\nwith the difference, however, that it was a heathen, not a Christian\npower, that Pilate represented, and that it was the spirit of ancient\nRome, not that of modern England, which inspired his administration.\nOf this spirit--the spirit of worldliness, diplomacy and expediency--he\nwas a typical exponent; and we shall see how true to it he proved on\nthis momentous day.[1]\n\nPilate had occupied his position for a good many years; yet he neither\nliked his subjects nor they him.  The Jews were among the most\nintractable and difficult of all the states which the officials of Rome\nhad to manage.  Mindful of the glory of their ancient history, and\nstill cherishing the hope of universal empire, they were impatient of\nthe yoke of subordination; they were constantly discovering in the\nconduct of their rulers insults directed against their dignity or their\nreligion; they complained of the heavy taxation and pestered their\nrulers with petitions.  Pilate had not got on at all well with them.\nBetween him and them there was no sympathy.  He hated their fanaticism.\nIn his quarrels with them, which were frequent, he had freely shed\ntheir blood.  They accused him of corruption, cruelty, robbery, and\nmaladministration of every description.\n\nThe residence of the governor was not in Jerusalem, in which no one\naccustomed to the pleasures of Rome--its theatres, baths, games,\nliterature and society--could desire to live, but in the new coast city\nof Caesarea, which in its splendour and luxury was a sort of small\nimitation of Rome.  Occasionally, however, the governor had to visit\nthe capital for business reasons; and usually as on this occasion, he\ndid so at the time of the Passover.\n\nWhen there, he took up his residence in what had formerly been the\nroyal palace while Judaea still had a king.  It had been built by Herod\nthe Great, who had a passion for architecture; and it was situated on\nthe hill to the south-west of the one on which the temple stood.  It\nwas a splendid building,[2] rivalling the temple itself in appearance,\nand so large as to be capable of containing a small army.  It consisted\nof two colossal wings, springing forward on either side, and a\nconnecting building between.  In front of the latter stretched a broad\npavement; and here, in the open air, on a raised platform, was the\nscene of the trial; because the Jewish authorities would not enter the\nbuilding, which to them was unclean.  Pilate had to yield to their\nscruples, though probably cursing them in his heart.  But, indeed, it\nwas quite common for the Romans to hold courts of justice in the open\nair.  The front of the palace, all round, was supported by massive\npillars, forming broad, shady colonnades; and round the building there\nextended a park, with walks, trees and ponds, where fountains cast\ntheir sparkling jets high into the sunshine and flocks of tame doves\nplumed their feathers at the water's edge.\n\nThrough the huge gateway, then, of this palatial residence, the Jewish\nauthorities, with their Prisoner in their midst, came pouring in the\nearly morning.  Pilate came out to receive them and seated himself on\nhis chair of state, with his secretaries beside him, and behind him, no\ndoubt, numbers of bronzed Roman soldiers with their stolid looks and\nupright spears.  The Accused would have to ascend the platform, too;\nand over against Him stood His accusers, with Caiaphas at their head.\n\nWhat a spectacle was that!  The heads of the Jewish nation leading\ntheir own Messiah in chains to deliver Him up to a Gentile governor,\nwith the petition that He should be put to death!  Shades of the heroes\nand the prophets, who loved this nation and boasted of it and foretold\nits glorious fate, the hour of destiny has come, and this is the result!\n\nIt was an act of national suicide.  But was it not more?  Was it not\nthe frustration of the purpose and the promise of God?  So it certainly\nappeared to be.  Yet He is not mocked.  Even through human sin His\npurpose holds on its way.  The Jews brought the Son of God to Pilate's\njudgment-seat, that both Jew and Gentile might unite in condemning Him;\nfor it was part of the work of the Redeemer to expose human sin, and\nhere was to be exhibited the _ne plus ultra_ of wickedness, as the hand\nof humanity was lifted up against its Maker.  And yet that death was to\nbe the life of humanity; and Jesus, standing between Jew and Gentile,\nwas to unite them in the fellowship of a common salvation.  \"Oh the\ndepth both of the wisdom and knowledge of God!  How unsearchable are\nHis judgments, and His ways past finding out!\"\n\n\nII.\n\nPilate at once demanded what was the accusation which they brought\nagainst the Prisoner.\n\nThe reply was a characteristic one, \"If He were not a malefactor, we\nwould not have delivered Him up unto thee.\"  This was as broad a hint\nas they could give that they desired the governor to waive his right to\nre-try the case, accepting their trial of it as sufficient, and content\nhimself with the other half of his prerogative--the passing and the\nexecution of the sentence.  Sometimes provincial governors did so,\neither through indolence or out of compliment to the native\nauthorities; and especially in a religious cause, which a foreigner\ncould not be expected to understand, such a compliment might seem a\nboon which it was not unreasonable to ask.\n\nBut Pilate was not in a yielding mood, and retorted, \"Take ye Him and\njudge Him according to your law.\"  This was as much as to say: If I am\nnot to hear the case, then I will neither pass the sentence nor inflict\nthe punishment; if you insist on this being a case for yourselves as\necclesiastics, then keep it to yourselves; but, if you do, you must be\ncontent with such a punishment as the law permits you to inflict.\n\nTo them this was gall and wormwood, because it was for the life of\nChrist they were thirsting, and they well knew that imprisonment or\nbeating with rods was as far as they could go.  The cold, keen Roman,\nas proud as themselves, was making them feel the pressure of Rome's\nfoot on their neck, and he enjoyed a malicious pleasure in extorting\nfrom them the complaint, \"It is not lawful for us to put any man to\ndeath.\"\n\nForced against their will and their expectation to formulate a charge,\nthey began to pour forth many vehement accusations; out of which at\nlength three emerged with some distinctness--first, that He was\nperverting the nation; second, that He forbade to pay the imperial\ntribute; and third, that He set Himself up as a king.\n\nIt will be observed that they never mentioned the charge on which they\nhad condemned Him themselves.  It was for none of these three things\nthat they had condemned Him, but for blasphemy.  They knew too well,\nhowever, that if they advanced such a charge in this place, the\nlikelihood was that it would be sneered out of court.  It will be\nremembered how a Roman governor, mentioned in the life of St. Paul,\ndealt with such a charge: \"Gallio said unto the Jews, If it were a\nmatter of wrong or wicked lewdness, O ye Jews, reason would that I\nshould bear with you; but, if it be a question of words and names, and\nof your law, look ye to it; for I will be no judge of such matters.\nAnd he drave them from the judgment-seat.\" [3]  And, although of course\nPilate could not have dared to exhibit the same cynical disdain for\nwhat he would have called Jewish superstition, yet they knew that it\nwas in his heart.\n\nBut their inability to bring forward the real charge put them in a\nfalse position, the dangers of which they did not escape.  They had to\nextemporise crimes, and they were not scrupulous about it.\n\nTheir first charge--that Jesus was perverting the nation[4]--was vague.\nBut what are we to say of the second--that He forbade to pay the\nimperial tribute?  When we remember His reply that very week to the\nquestion whether or not it was lawful to pay tribute--\"Render unto\nCaesar the things which are Caesar's, and unto God the things which are\nGod's\"--it looks very like a deliberate falsehood.[5]  There was more\ncolour in their third statement--that He said He was Christ a King--for\nHe had at their tribunal solemnly avowed Himself to be the Christ.\nYet, in this case, also, they were well aware that to the ear of a\nRoman the claim that He was a king would convey a different meaning\nfrom that conveyed to their ears by the claim to be the Christ.\nIndeed, at bottom their objection to Him was just that He did not\nsufficiently claim to be a king in the Roman sense.  They were eagerly\nlooking for a king, of splendour and military renown, to break the\nRoman yoke and make Jerusalem the capital of a worldwide empire; and it\nwas because the spirit and aims of Jesus were alien to such ambitions\nthat they despised and hated Him.\n\nPilate understood perfectly well with whom he was dealing.  He could\nonly be amused with their zeal for the payment of the Roman tribute.\nOne of the Evangelists says, \"He knew that for envy they had delivered\nHim.\"  How far he was already acquainted with the career of Jesus we\ncannot tell.  He had been governor all the time of the movement\ninaugurated by the Baptist and continued by Christ, and he can hardly\nhave remained in entire ignorance of it.  The dream of his wife, which\nwe shall come to soon, seems to prove that Jesus had already been a\ntheme of conversation in the palace; and perhaps the tedium of a visit\nto Jerusalem may have been relieved for the governor and his wife by\nthe story of the young Enthusiast who was bearding the fanatic priests.\nPilate displays, all through, a real interest in Jesus and a genuine\nrespect.  This was no doubt chiefly due to what he himself saw of His\nbearing at his tribunal; but it may also have been partly due to what\nhe had already heard about Him.  At all events there is no indication\nthat he took the charges against Jesus seriously.  The two first he\nseems never to have noticed; but the third--that He was setting Himself\nup as a king, who might be a rival to the emperor--was not such as he\ncould altogether pass by.\n\n\nIII.\n\nPilate, having heard the accusations, took Jesus inside the palace to\ninvestigate them.  This he did, no doubt, for the purpose of getting\nrid of the importunity of His accusers, which was extreme.  And Jesus\nmade no scruple, as they had done, about entering the palace.  Shall we\nsay that the Jews had rejected Him, and He was turning to the\nGentiles--that the wall of partition had now fallen, and that He was\ntrampling over its ruins?\n\nIn the silence, then, of this interior hall He and Pilate stood face to\nface--He in the prisoner's lonely place, Pilate in the place of power.\nYet how strangely, as we now look back at the scene, are the places\nreversed!  It is Pilate who is going to be tried--Pilate and Rome,\nwhich he represented.  All that morning Pilate was being judged and\nexposed; and ever since he has stood in the pillory of history with the\ncenturies gazing at him.[6]  In the old pictures of the Child Christ by\nthe great masters a halo proceeds from the Babe that lights up the\nsurrounding figures, sometimes with dazzling effect.  And it is true\nthat on all who approached Christ, when He was in the world, there fell\na light in which both the good and the evil in them were revealed.  It\nwas a search-light, that penetrated into every corner and exposed every\nwrinkle.  Men were judged as they came near Him.  Is it not so still?\nWe never show so entirely what is in us as by the way in which we are\naffected by Christ.  We are judging ourselves and passing sentence on\nourselves for eternity by the way in which we deal with Him.\n\nPilate asked Him, \"Art Thou the King of the Jews?\" referring to the\nthird charge brought against Him.  The reply of Jesus was cautious; it\nwas another question: \"Sayest thou this of thyself, or did others tell\nit thee of Me?\"  He desired to learn in what sense the question was\nasked--whether from the standpoint of a Roman or from that of the Jews;\nbecause of course His answer would be different according as He was\nasked whether He was a king as a Roman would understand the word or\naccording as it was understood by the Jews.\n\nBut this answer nettled Pilate, perhaps because it assumed that he\nmight have more interest in the case than he cared to confess; and he\nsaid angrily, \"Am I a Jew?  Thine own nation and the chief priests have\ndelivered Thee unto me.\"  If he intended this to sting, the blow did\nnot fail of its mark.  Ah, tingling shame and poignant pain!  His own\nnation--His own beloved nation, to which He had devoted His life--had\ngiven Him up to the Gentile.  He felt a shame for it before the\nforeigner such as a slave on the block may feel before her purchaser\nfor the father and the family that have sold her into disgrace.\n\nJesus at once proceeded, however, to answer Pilate's question on both\nsides, both on the Roman political and then on the Jewish religious\nside.\n\nFirst, He answered negatively, \"My kingdom is not of this world!\"  He\nwas no rival of the Roman emperor.  If He had been, the first thing He\nmust have done would have been to assemble soldiers about Him for the\npurpose of freeing the country from the Roman occupation, and the very\nfirst duty of these soldiers would have been to defend the person of\ntheir king; but it could be proved that at His arrest there had been no\nfighting on His behalf, and that He had ordered the one follower who\nhad drawn a sword to sheathe it again.  It was not a kingdom of force\nand arms and worldly glory He had in view.\n\nYet, even in making this denial, Jesus had used the words, \"My\nkingdom.\"  And Pilate broke in, \"Art Thou a king then?\"  \"Yes,\" replied\nJesus; \"to this end was I born, and for this cause came I into the\nworld, that I should bear witness unto the truth.\"  This was His\nkingdom--the realm of Truth.  It differs widely from that of Caesar.\nCaesar's empire is over the bodies of men; this is over their hearts.\nThe strength of Caesar's empire is in soldiers, arms, citadels and\nnavies; the strength of this kingdom is in principles, sentiments,\nideas.  The benefit secured by Caesar to the citizens is external\nsecurity for their persons and properties; the blessings of Christ's\nkingdom are peace of conscience and joy in the Holy Ghost.  The empire\nof Caesar, vast as it was, yet was circumscribed; the kingdom of Christ\nis without limits, and is destined to be established in every land.\nCaesar's empire, like every other earthly kingdom, had its day and\npassed out of existence; but the kingdom of Truth shall last for\nevermore.\n\nIt has been remarked that there was something Western rather than\nOriental in this sublime saying of Christ.  What a noble-minded Jew\nlonged for above all things was righteousness; but what a noble-minded\nGentile aspired after was truth.  There were some spirits, in that age,\neven among the heathen, in whom the mention of a kingdom of truth or\nwisdom would have struck a responsive chord.  Jesus was feeling to see\nwhether there was in this man's soul any such longing.\n\nHe approached still nearer him when He added the searching remark,\n\"Every one that is of the truth heareth My voice;\" for it was a hint\nthat, if he loved the truth, he must believe in Him.  Jesus preached to\nHis judge.  Just as the prisoner Paul made Felix the judge tremble, and\nAgrippa the judge cry out, \"Almost thou persuadest me to be a\nChristian,\" so Jesus, with the instinct of the preacher and the\nSaviour, was feeling for Pilate's conscience.  He who fishes for the\nsouls of men must use many angles; and on this occasion Jesus selected\na rare one.\n\nThere will always be some who, though common appeals do not touch them,\nyet respond to this delicate appeal.  Is truth a magic word to you? do\nyou thirst for wisdom?  There are those to whom the prizes which the\nmajority strive for are as dross.  The race for wealth, the pride of\nlife, the distinctions of society--you laugh at them and pity them.\nBut a golden page of a favourite poet, a thought newly minted in the\nglowing heat of a true thinker's mind, a pregnant word that sets your\nfancy ranging through eternity, a luminous doctrine that rises on the\nintellectual horizon like a star,--these are your wealth.  You feel\nkeenly the darkness of the world, and are perplexed by a hundred\nproblems.  Child and lover of wisdom, do you know the King of Truth?\nThis is He who can satisfy your craving for light and lead you out of\nthe maze of speculation and error.\n\nBut is it true, as He says here, that everyone who is of the truth\nheareth His voice?  Is not the world at present full of men and women\nwho are in search of truth, yet pass Christ by?  It is a very strong\nword He uses; it is, \"every one who has been born of the truth.\"  Have\nyou actually clambered on Truth's knees, and clung to her neck, and fed\nat her breast?  There are many who seek truth earnestly with the\nintellect, but do not desire it to rule their conduct or purify their\nheart.  But only those who seek truth with their whole being are her\ntrue children; and to these the voice of Christ, when it is discerned,\nis like the sunrise to the statue of Memnon or as the call of spring to\nthe responsive earth.\n\nAlas!  Pilate was no such man.  He was incapable of spiritual\naspiration; he was of the earth earthy; he sought for nothing which the\neye cannot see or the hand handle.  To him a kingdom of truth and a\nking of truth were objects of fairyland or castles in the air.  \"What\nis truth?\" he asked; but, as he asked, he turned on his heel, and did\nnot wait for an answer.  He asked only as a libertine might ask, What\nis virtue? or a tyrant, What is freedom?\n\nBut he was clearly convinced that Jesus was innocent.  He judged Him to\nbe an amiable enthusiast, from whom Rome had nothing to fear.  So he\nwent out and pronounced His acquittal: \"I find in Him no fault at all.\"\n\n\n\n[1] On Pilate there is an essay of extraordinary subtlety and power in\nCandlish's _Scripture Characters_.\n\n[2] An eloquent account in Keim (vi., p. 80, English tr.), who gives\nthe authorities: \"in part a tyrant's stronghold, and in part a fairy\npleasure-house.\"\n\n[3] Acts xviii. 14-16.\n\n[4] _ethnos_, not _laos_: they were speaking to a heathen.\n\n[5] Keim calls it \"a very flagrant lie.\"\n\n[6] \"Socrates, quum omnium sapientissime sanctissimeque vixisset, ita\nin judicio capitis pro se dixit, ut non supplex aut reus, sed magister\naut dominus videretur judicum.\"--CICERO.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nJESUS AND HEROD\n\nPilate had tried Jesus and found Him innocent; and so he frankly told\nthe members of the Sanhedrim, thereby reversing their sentence.  What\nought to have followed?  Of course Jesus ought to have been released\nand, if necessary, protected from the feeling of the Jews.\n\nWhy was this not what happened?  An incident in the life of Pilate,\nnarrated by a secular historian, may best explain.  Some years before\nthe trial of Jesus, Pilate, newly settled in the position of governor\nof Judaea, resolved to remove the headquarters of the Roman army from\nCaesarea to Jerusalem; and the soldiers entered the Holy City with\ntheir standards, each of which bore the image of the emperor.  To the\nJewish mind these images were idolatrous, and their presence in\nJerusalem was looked upon as a gross insult and desecration.  The\nforemost men of the city poured down to Caesarea, where Pilate was\nstaying, and besought him to remove them.  He refused, and for five\ndays the discussion went on.  At length he was so irritated that he\nordered them to be surrounded by soldiers, and threatened to have them\nput to death unless they became silent and dispersed.  They, however,\nin no way dismayed, threw themselves on the ground and laid bare their\nnecks, crying that they would rather die than have their city defiled.\nAnd the upshot was that Pilate had to yield, and the army was withdrawn\nfrom Jerusalem.[1]\n\nSuch was the governor, and such were the people with whom he had to\ndeal.  He was no match for them, when their hearts were set on anything\nand their religious prejudices roused.  In the present case they did\nwith him exactly as they had done on that early occasion.  He declared\nJesus innocent, and thereupon the trial ought to have been at an end.\nBut they raised an angry clamour--\"they were the more fierce,\" says St.\nLuke--and began to pour out new accusations against the Prisoner.\n\nPilate had not nerve enough to resist.  He weakly turned to Jesus\nHimself, asking, \"Hearest Thou not what these witness against Thee?\"\nBut Jesus \"answered to him never a word.\"  He would not, by a single\nsyllable, give sanction to any prolongation of the proceedings:\n\"insomuch that the governor marvelled greatly.\"  Flustered and\nirresolute himself, he could not comprehend this majestic composure.\nThe stake of Jesus in the proceedings was nothing less than His life;\nyet He was the only calm person in the whole assemblage.\n\nSuddenly, however, amidst the confusion a way of escape from his\nembarrassing situation seemed to open to Pilate.  They were crying, \"He\nstirreth up the people, teaching throughout all Jewry, beginning from\nGalilee to this place.\"  The mention of Galilee was intended to excite\nprejudice against Jesus, because Galilee was noted as a hotbed of\ninsurrection.  But it set agoing a different train of thought in the\nmind of Pilate, who asked anxiously if He was a Galilean.  It had\nflashed upon him that Herod, the ruler of Galilee, was in the city at\nthe time, having come for the Passover celebration; and, as it was not\nan unusual procedure in Roman law to transfer a prisoner from the\nterritory where he had been arrested to his place of origin or of\ndomicile, it seemed to him a happy inspiration to send Jesus to be\ntried by the ruler of the province to which He belonged, and so get rid\naltogether of the case.[2]  He acted at once on this idea; and, under\nthe escort of Pilate's soldiers, Jesus and His accusers were sent away\nto the ancient palace of the Maccabees, in which Herod used to reside\non his visits to the Holy City.\n\nThus was Jesus, on this day of shame, tossed, like a ball, from hand to\nhand--from Annas to Caiaphas, from Caiaphas to Pilate, from Pilate to\nHerod, with more to follow; and these weary marches[3] in chains and in\nthe custody of the officers of justice, with His persecutors about Him,\nare not to be forgotten in the catalogue of His sufferings.\n\n\nI.\n\nThere are several Herods mentioned in the New Testament, and it must be\nmade clear which of them this was.\n\nThe first of them was he who slew the babes of Bethlehem, when the\ninfant Saviour was carried away to Egypt.  He was called Herod the\nGreat, and reigned over the whole country, though only by permission of\nthe Romans.  At his death his dominions were divided among his sons by\nthe foreigner, who thus more effectually brought the country under\ncontrol; for the smaller the size of subject states the more absolute\nis the power of the suzerain.  Judaea was given to Archelaus; but it\nwas soon taken from him, to be administered by the Romans themselves\nthrough their procurators, of whom Pilate was one.  Galilee and Peraea\nwere given to another son, Antipas; and a region more to the north to a\nthird, Philip.  Our present Herod is Antipas.\n\nHe was a man of some ability and at the outset of his career gave\npromise of ruling well.  Like his father, he had a passion for\narchitecture, and among his achievements in this line was the building\nof the city of Tiberias, well known in connection with modern missions.\nBut he took a step which proved fatal when he entered into an intrigue\nwith Herodias, the wife of his own brother Philip.  She left her\nhusband to come to him, and he sent away his own wife, the daughter of\nAretas, the king of Arabia Petraea.  Herodias was a much stronger\ncharacter than he; and she remained at his side through life as his\nevil genius.  Better aspirations were not, however, wholly extinguished\nin him even by this fall.  When the Baptist began to fire the country,\nhe took an interest in his preaching, and invited him to the palace,\nwhere he heard him gladly, till John said, \"It is not lawful for thee\nto have her.\"  For this the great preacher was cast into prison; but\neven then Herod frequently sent for him.  Manifestly he was under\nreligious impression.  He admired the character and the teaching of\nJohn.  It is said \"he did many things.\"  Only he could not and would\nnot do the one thing needful: Herodias still retained her place.\nNaturally she feared and hated the man of God, who was seeking to\nremove her; and she plotted against him with implacable malignity.  She\nwas only too successful, making use of her own daughter--not Antipas',\nbut her first husband's--for her purpose.  On the king's birthday\nSalome danced before Herod and so intoxicated him with her skill and\nbeauty, that, heated and overcome, he promised--the promise showing the\nman--to give her whatever she might ask, even to the half of his\nkingdom; and when the young witch, well drilled by her mother in the\ncraft of hell, asked the head of the man of God, she was not refused.\n\nThis awful crime filled his subjects with horror, and when, soon\nafterwards, King Aretas, the father of his discarded wife, invaded the\ncountry, to revenge his daughter's wrong, and inflicted on him an\nignominious defeat, this reverse was popularly regarded as a divine\npunishment for what he had done.  His own mind was haunted by the\nspectres of remorse, as we learn from the fact that, when he heard of\nthe preaching of Jesus, his first thought was that this was John the\nBaptist risen from the dead.  Indeed, from this point he seems to have\nrapidly deteriorated.  Feeling the aversion of the minds of his\nsubjects, he turned more and more to foreign customs.  His court became\ndistinguished for Roman imitations and affectations.  The purveyors of\npleasure, who in that age hawked their wares from one petty court to\nanother--singers, dancers, jugglers and the like--were welcome at\nTiberias.  The fibre of his character was more and more relaxed, till\nit became a mere mass of pulp, ready to receive every impression but\nable to retain none.  His annual visits to Jerusalem even, at Passover\ntime, were inspired less by devotion than by the hope of amusement.  In\nso large a concourse there would at any rate be acquaintances to see\nand news to hear; and who could tell what excitement might turn up?\n\n\nII.\n\nHis reception of Jesus was thoroughly characteristic.  Had he had the\nconscience even of a bad man, he might have been abashed to see the\nBaptist's Friend.  Once he had been moved with terror at the mere\nrumour of Jesus; but that was all past; these emotions had been wiped\nout by newer ones and forgotten.  He was \"exceeding glad\" to see Him.\nFirst, it was an excitement; and this was something for such a man.\nThen, it was a compliment from the Roman; indeed, we are told that\nPilate and he had aforetime been at enmity, but by this attention were\nmade friends again.  His delight, however, arose chiefly from the hope\nthat he might see Jesus working a miracle.  For two or three years his\nown dominions had been ringing with the fame of the Miracle-worker, but\nHerod had never seen Him.  Now was his chance; and no doubt entered his\nmind that Jesus would gratify his curiosity, or could count it anything\nbut an honour to get the opportunity of displaying His skill.\n\nSuch was Herod's estimate of Christ.  He put Him on the level of a new\ndancer or singer; he looked on His miracles as a species of conjuring\nor magic; and he expected from Him the same entertainment as he might\nhave obtained from any wandering professor of magical arts.\n\nAt once he addressed Him in the friendliest manner and questioned Him\nin many words.  Apparently he quite forgot the purpose for which Pilate\nhad sent Him.  He did not even wait for any replies, but went rambling\non.  He had thought much about religion, and he wished Jesus to know\nit.  He had theories to ventilate, puzzles to propound, remarks to\nmake.  A man who has no religion may yet have a great deal to say about\nreligion; and there are people who like far better to hear themselves\ntalking than to listen to any speaker, however wise.  No mouth is more\nvoluble than that of a characterless man of feeling.\n\n\nIII.\n\nHerod at last exhausted himself, and then he waited for Christ to\nspeak.  But Jesus uttered not a word.  The silence lasted till the\npause grew awkward and painful, and till Herod grew red and angry; but\nJesus would not break it with a single syllable.\n\nFor one thing, the entire proceedings were irrelevant.  Jesus had been\nsent to Herod to be tried; but this had never been touched upon.  Had\nJesus, indeed, desired to deliver Himself at all hazards, this was a\nrare opportunity; because, if He had yielded to Herod's wishes and\nwrought a miracle for his gratification, no doubt He would have been\nacquitted and sent back loaded with gifts.  But we cannot believe that\nsuch an expedient was even a temptation to Him.  Never had He wrought a\nmiracle for His own behoof, and it is inconceivable that He should have\nstooped to offer any justification of the estimate of Himself which\nthis man had formed.  Jesus was Herod's subject; but it was impossible\nfor Him to look upon him with respect.  How could He help feeling\ndisdain for one who thought of Himself so basely and treated this great\ncrisis so frivolously?  To one who knew Herod's history, how loathsome\nmust it have been to hear religious talk from his lips!  There was no\nmanliness or earnestness in the man.  Religion was a mere diversion to\nhim.\n\nTo such Christ will always be silent.  Herod is the representative of\nthose for whom there is no seriousness in life, but who live only for\npleasure.  There are many such.  Not only has religion, in any high and\nserious sense, no attraction for them, but they dislike everything like\ndeep thought or earnest work in any sphere.  As soon as they are\nreleased from the claims of business, they rush off to be excited and\namused; and the one thing they dread is solitude, in which they might\nhave to face themselves.  In certain classes of society, where work is\nnot necessary to obtain a livelihood, this spirit is the predominant\none: life is all a scene of gaiety; one amusement follows another; and\nthe utmost care is taken to avoid any intervals where reflection might\ncome in.\n\nReligion itself may be dragged into this circle of dissipation.  It is\npossible to go to church with substantially the same object with which\none goes to a place of amusement--in the hope of being excited, of\nhaving the feelings stirred and the aesthetic sense gratified or, at\nthe least, consuming an hour which might otherwise lie heavy on the\nhands.  With shame be it said, there are churches enough and preachers\nenough ready to meet this state of mind half-way.  With the fireworks\nof rhetoric or the witchery of music or the pomp of ritual the\nperformance is seasoned up to the due pitch; and the audience depart\nwith precisely the same kind of feeling with which they might leave a\nconcert or a theatre.  Very likely it is accounted a great success; but\nChrist has not spoken: He is resolutely mute to those who follow\nreligion in this spirit.\n\nSometimes the same spirit takes another direction; it becomes\nspeculative and sceptical and, like Herod, \"questions in many words.\"\nWhen I have heard some people propounding religious difficulties, the\nanswer which has risen to my lips has been, Why should you be able to\nbelieve in Christ? what have you ever done to render yourselves worthy\nof such a privilege? you are thinking of faith as a compliment to be\npaid to Christ; in reality the power to believe in Him and His words is\na great privilege and honour, that requires to be purchased with\nthought, humility and self-denial.\n\nWe do not owe an answer to the religious objections of everyone.\nReligion is, indeed, a subject on which everyone takes the liberty of\nspeaking; the most unholy and evil-living talk and write of it nothing\ndoubting; but in reality it is a subject on which very few are entitled\nto be heard.  We may know beforehand, from their lives, what the\nopinions of many must be about it; and we know what their opinions are\nworth.\n\nIt may be thought that Jesus ought to have spoken to Herod--that He\nmissed an opportunity.  Ought He not to have appealed to his conscience\nand attempted to rouse him to a sense of his sin?  To this I answer\nthat His silence was itself this appeal.  Had there been a spark of\nconscience left in Herod, those Eyes looking him through and through,\nand that divine dignity measuring and weighing him, would have caused\nhis sins to rise up out of the grave and overwhelm him.  Jesus was\nsilent, that the voice of the dead Baptist might be heard.\n\nIf we understood it, the silence of Christ is the most eloquent of all\nappeals.  Can you remember when you used to hear Him--when the words of\nthe Book and the preacher used to move you in church, when the singing\nawoke aspiration, when the Sabbath was holy ground, when the Spirit of\nGod strove with you?  And is that all passed of passing away?  Does\nChrist speak no more?  If a man is lying ill, and perceives day by day\neverything about him becoming silent--his wife avoiding speech,\nvisitors sinking their voices to a whisper, footsteps falling and doors\nshutting noiselessly--he knows that his illness is becoming critical.\nWhen the traveller, battling with the snow-storm, sinks down at last to\nrest, he feels cold and painful and miserable; but, if there steals\nover him a soft, sweet sense of slumber and silence, then is the moment\nto rouse himself and fight off his peace, if he is ever to stir again.\nThere is such a spiritual insensibility.  It means that the Spirit is\nceasing to strive, and Christ to call.  If it is creeping over you, it\nis time to be anxious; for it is for your life.\n\n\nIV.\n\nHow far Herod understood the silence of Jesus we cannot tell.  It is\ntoo likely that he did not wish to understand.  At all events he acted\nas if he did not; he treated it as if it were stupidity.  He thought\nthat the reason why Jesus would not work a miracle was because He could\nnot: a pretender's powers generally forsake him when he falls into the\nhands of the police.  Jesus, he thought, was discredited; His Messianic\nclaims were exploded; even His followers must now be disillusioned.\n\nSo he thought and so he said; and the satellites round his throne\nchimed in; for there is no place where a great man's word is echoed\nwith more parrot-like precision than in a petty court.  And no doubt\nthey considered it a great stroke of wit, well worthy of applause, when\nHerod, before sending Him back to Pilate, cast over His shoulders a\ngorgeous robe--probably in imitation of the white robe worn at Rome by\ncandidates for office.  The suggestion was that Jesus was a candidate\nfor the throne of the country, but one so ridiculous that it would be a\nmistake to treat Him with anything but contempt.  Thus amidst peals of\nlaughter was Jesus driven from the presence.\n\n\n\n[1] Josephus, \"Ant.,\" XVIII., 3, 1.\n\n[2] It may be questioned whether it was for trial he sent Jesus to\nHerod or only for advice, as Festus caused St. Paul's case to be heard\nby Agrippa.\n\n[3] Called \"die Gaenge des Dulders,\" in German devotional literature.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nBACK TO PILATE\n\nThe sending of Jesus to Herod had not, as Pilate had hoped, finished\nthe case, and so the Prisoner was brought back to the imperial palace.\n\nHerod had affected to treat Jesus with disdain; but in reality, as we\nare now aware, he had himself been tried and exposed.  And Jesus\nreturned to do the same thing for Pilate--to make manifest what manner\nof spirit he was of; though Pilate had no conception that this was\ngoing to happen: he was only annoyed that a case of which he thought he\nhad got rid was thrown on his hands again.  He had reluctantly to\nresume it, and he carried it through to the end; but, before this point\nwas reached, his character was revealed, down to its very foundations,\nin the light of Christ.\n\nHerod's spirit was that of frivolous worldliness--the worldliness which\ntries to turn the whole of life into a pastime or a joke; Pilate's was\nthat of strenuous worldliness--the worldliness which makes self its aim\nand subordinates everything to success.  Of the two this is perhaps the\nmore common; and, therefore, it will be both interesting and\ninstructive to watch its self-revelation under the search-light of\nChrist's proximity.\n\n\nI.\n\nPilate might perhaps have been justified in suspending the release of\nJesus till after he received Him back from Herod; because, although he\nhad himself found no fault in Him, his ignorance of Jewish laws and\ncustoms might have made him hesitate about his own judgment and wish,\nbefore absolutely settling the case, to obtain the opinion of an\nexpert.  When, however, he learned that the opinion of Herod coincided\nwith his own, there was no further excuse for delay.\n\nAccordingly he plainly informed the Jews[1] that he had examined the\nPrisoner and found no fault in Him; he had also sent Him to Herod with\na like result.  \"Therefore,\" he continued.  Therefore--what?\n\"Therefore,\" you expect to hear, \"I dismiss Him from the bar acquitted,\nand I will protect Him, if need be, from all violence.\"  This would\nhave been the only conclusion in accordance with logic and justice.\nPilate's conclusion was the extraordinary one: \"Therefore I will\nchastise Him and release Him.\"  He would inflict the severe punishment\nof scourging as a sop to their rage, and then release Him as a tribute\nto justice.\n\nWas a more unjust proposal ever made?  Yet it was thoroughly\ncharacteristic of the man who made it as well as of the system which he\nrepresented.  The spirit of imperial Rome was the spirit of compromise,\nmanoeuvre and expediency; as the spirit of government has too often\nbeen elsewhere, not only in the State but also in the Church.  Pilate\nhad settled scores of cases on the same principle--or no principle;\nscores of officials were conducting their administration throughout the\nvast Roman empire in the same way at that very time.  Only to Pilate\nfell the sinister distinction of putting the base system in operation\nin the case where its true character was exposed in the light of\nhistory.\n\nBut ought we not to believe that in all other cases, however obscure\nthe victims, the spirit manifested by Pilate has been equally\ndispleasing to God?  In our Lord's picture of the Last Judgment one\nstriking trait is that all are astonished at the reasons assigned for\ntheir destiny.  Those on the right hand are credited with feeding\nChrist when He was hungry, giving Him drink when He was thirsty, and so\nforth; and they ask in surprise, Lord, when saw we Thee hungry and fed\nThee, or thirsty and gave Thee drink?  In like manner those on the left\nare accused of seeing Christ hungry but neglecting to feed Him, of\nseeing Him thirsty and refusing to give Him drink, and so forth; and\nthey ask, Lord, when saw we Thee hungry or thirsty and ministered not\nto Thee?  You perhaps think they say so to conceal the sins of which\nthey are conscious?  Not at all.  They are really astonished: they\nthink their identity has been mistaken and that they are about to be\npunished for sins they have never committed.  They are only aware of\nhaving neglected a few children or old women not worth thinking about.\nBut Christ says, Each of these stood for Me, and, when you neglected or\ninjured them, you were doing it unto Me.  Thus may all life at the last\nprove far more high and solemn than we now imagine.  Take care how you\ntouch your brother man; you may be touching the apple of God's eye:\ntake care how you do an injustice even to a child; you may find out at\nthe last that it is Christ you have been assailing.\n\n\nII.\n\nPilate had cut himself loose from principle when he declared Jesus to\nbe innocent and yet ordered Him to be chastised.  He thought, however,\nthat he could guide his course safely enough to the point at which he\naimed.  We are to see how completely he failed and at last suffered\ntotal shipwreck.  Hands were stretched out towards him, as he advanced,\nsome to save him, some to do the reverse; but the impulse of his own\nfalse beginning carried him on to the fatal issue.\n\nThe first hand stretched out to him was a loving and helpful one: it\nwas the hand of his wife.  She sent to tell him of a dream she had had\nabout his Prisoner and to warn him to have nothing to do with \"that\njust man.\"\n\nDifficulties have been made as to how she could know about Christ; but\nthere is no real difficulty.  Probably, while Jesus was away at\nHerod's, Pilate had entered the palace and told his wife about the\nsingular trial and about the impression which Jesus had made upon his\nmind.  When he left her, she had fallen asleep and dreamed about it;\nfor, though our version makes her say, \"This night I have dreamed about\nHim,\" the literal translation is \"this day\"; and of course there might\nbe many causes why a lady should fall asleep in the daytime.  Her dream\nhad been such as to fill her with a vague sense of alarm, and her\nmessage to her husband was the result.\n\nThis incident has taken a strong hold of the Christian imagination and\ngiven rise to all kinds of guesses.  Tradition has handed down the name\nof Pilate's wife as Claudia Procula; and it is said that she was a\nproselyte of the Jewish religion; as high-toned heathen ladies in that\nage not infrequently became when circumstances brought the Old\nTestament into their hands.  The Greek Church has gone so far as to\ncanonise her, supposing that she became a Christian.  Poets and artists\nhave tried to reproduce her dream.  Many will remember the picture of\nit in the Dore Gallery in London.  The dreaming woman is represented\nstanding in a balcony and looking up an ascending valley, which is\ncrowded with figures.  It is the vale of years or centuries, and the\nfigures are the generations of the Church of Christ yet to be.\nImmediately in front of her is the Saviour Himself, bearing His cross;\nbehind and around Him are His twelve apostles and the crowds of their\nconverts; behind these the Church of the early centuries, with the\ngreat fathers, Polycarp and Tertullian, Athanasius and Gregory,\nChrysostom and Augustine; further back the Church of the Middle Ages,\nwith the majestic forms and warlike accoutrements of the Crusaders\nrising from its midst; behind these the Church of modern times, with\nits heroes; then multitudes upon multitudes that no man can number\npressing forward in broadening ranks, till far aloft, in the white and\nshining heavens, lo, tier on tier and circle upon circle, with the\nangels of God hovering above them and on their flanks; and in the\nmidst, transfigured to the brightness of a star, the cross, which in\nits rough reality He is bearing wearily below.\n\nOf course these are but fancies.  In the woman's anxiety that no evil\nshould befall the Innocent we may, with greater certainty, trace the\nvestiges of the ancient Roman justice as it may have dwelt in the noble\nmatrons, like Volumnia and Cornelia, whose names adorn the pristine\nannals of her race; while the wife's solicitude to save her husband\nfrom a deed of sin associates her with the still nobler women of all\nages who have walked like guardian angels by the side of men immersed\nin the world and liable to be coarsened by its contact, to warn them of\nthe higher laws and the unseen powers.  We can hardly doubt that the\nhand of God was in this dream, or that it was outstretched to save\nPilate from the doom to which he was hastening.\n\n\nIII.\n\nAnother hand, however, was now stretched out to him; and he grasped it\neagerly, thinking it was going to save him; when it suddenly pushed him\ndown towards the abyss.  It was the hand of the mob of Jerusalem.\n\nUp to this point the actors assembled on the stage of Christ's trial\nwere comparatively few.  It had been the express desire of the Jewish\nauthorities to hurry the case through before the populace of the city\nand the crowds of Passover strangers got wind of it.  The proceedings\nhad accordingly gone forward all night; and it was still early morning.\nAs Jesus was led through the streets to Herod and back, accompanied by\nso many of the principal citizens, no doubt a considerable number must\nhave gathered.  But now circumstances brought a great multitude on the\nscene.\n\nIt was the custom of the Roman governor, on the Passover morning, to\nrelease a prisoner to the people.  As there were generally plenty of\npolitical prisoners on hand, rebels against the detested Roman yoke,\nbut, for that very reason, favourites and heroes of the Jewish\npopulace, this was a privilege not to be forgotten; and, while the\ntrial of Jesus was proceeding in the open air, the mob of the city came\npouring through the palace gates and up the avenue, shouting for their\nannual gift.\n\nFor once their demand was welcome to Pilate, for he thought he saw in\nit a way of escape from his own difficulty.  He would offer them Jesus,\nwho had a few days before been the hero of a popular demonstration, and\nas an aspirant to the Messiahship would, he imagined, be the very\nperson they should want.\n\nIt was an utterly unjust thing to do; because, first, it was treating\nJesus as if He were already a condemned man, whereas Pilate had himself\na few minutes before declared Him innocent; and, secondly, it was\nstaking the life of an innocent man on a guess, which might be\nmistaken, as to the fancy of the mob.  No doubt, however, Pilate\nconsidered it kind, as he felt sure of the disposition of the populace;\nand, at all events, the chance of extricating himself was too good to\nlose.\n\nThe minds of the mob it turned out, however, were pre-occupied with a\nfavourite of their own.  Singularly enough his name also appears to\nhave been Jesus: \"Jesus Barabbas\" is the name he bears in some of the\nbest manuscripts of the gospel of St. Matthew.[2]  He was \"a notable\nprisoner,\" who had been guilty of insurrection in the city, in which\nblood had been spilt, and was now lying in jail with the associates\nwhose ringleader he had been.  A bandit, half robber half\ninsurrectionary leader, is a figure which easily lays hold of the\npopular imagination.  They hesitated, however, when Pilate proposed\nJesus; and Pilate seems to have sent for the other prisoner, that they\nmight see the two side by side; for they could not, he thought,\nhesitate for a moment, if they had the opportunity of observing the\ncontrast.\n\nBut this brief interval was utilised by the Sanhedrists to persuade the\nmultitude.  It must be remembered that this was not the Galilean crowd\nby which Jesus had been brought in triumph into the city a few days\nbefore, but the mob of Jerusalem, with whom the ecclesiastical\nauthorities had influence.[3]  The priests and scribes, then, mingled\namong them and used every artifice they could think of.  Probably their\nmost effective argument was to whisper that Jesus was obviously the\nchoice of Pilate, and therefore should not be theirs.\n\nIf Pilate actually placed the two Jesuses side by side on his platform,\nwhat a sight it was!  The political desperado, stained with murder,\nthere; the Healer and Teacher, who had gone about continually doing\ngood, the Son of man, the Son of God, here.  Now which will you\nhave--Jesus or Barabbas?  And the cry came ringing from ten thousand\nthroats, \"Barabbas!\"\n\nTo Jesus what must that have meant!  These were the inhabitants of\nJerusalem, whom He had longed to gather as a hen gathereth her chickens\nunder her wings; they were the hearers of His words, the subjects of\nHis miracles, the objects of His love; and they prefer to Him a\nmurderer and a robber.\n\nThis scene has often been alleged as the self-condemnation of\ndemocracy.  _Vox populi vox Dei_, its flatterers have said; but look\nyonder: when the multitude has to choose between Jesus and Barabbas, it\nchooses Barabbas.  If this be so, the scene is equally decisive against\naristocracy.  Did the priests, scribes and nobles behave better than\nthe mob?  It was by their advice that the mob chose.\n\nIt is poor sport, on either side, to pelt opponents with such\nreproaches.  It is better far to learn holy fear from such a scene in\nreference to ourselves, to our own party and to our country.  What are\nwe to admire?  Whom are we to follow?  In what are we to seek\nsalvation?  Certainly there are great questions awaiting the democracy.\nWhom will it choose--the revolutionist or the regenerator?  And to what\nwill it trust--cleverness or character?  What spirit will it adopt as\nits own--that of violence or that of love?  Which means will it\nemploy--those which work from without inwards, or those which work from\nwithin outwards?  What end will it seek--the kingdom of meat and drink,\nor the kingdom which is righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy\nGhost?  But such questions are not for the democracy alone.  All\nclasses, all parties, every generation and every country have, from\ntime to time, to face them.  And so has the individual.  Perhaps all\nthe great choices of life ultimately resolve themselves into this\none--Jesus or Barabbas?\n\n\nIV.\n\nTo Pilate the choice of Barabbas must have been not only a surprise,\nbut a staggering blow.  \"What then,\" he asked, \"shall I do with Jesus?\"\nProbably he expected the answer, Give us Him too; and there can be\nlittle doubt that he would willingly have complied with such a request.\nBut, instead of this, there came, quick as echo, the reply, \"Crucify\nHim!\" and it was more a command than a request.\n\nHe was now made sensible that what he had considered a loophole of\nescape was a noose into which he had thrust his head.  He might,\nindeed, have intimated that he had only given them the prerogative to\nsave one of the two lives, not to take either of them away.  But\nvirtually he had put both prisoners at their disposal.  In this way, at\nall events, the mob interpreted the situation; and he did not venture\nto contradict them.\n\nHe was, however, deeply moved, and he did a very unusual thing: calling\nfor a basin of water, he washed his hands before them all and said, \"I\nam innocent from the blood of this just Person; see ye to it.\"  This\nwas an impressive act; yet its impressiveness was too theatrical.  He\nwashed his hands when he ought to have exerted them.  And blood does\nnot come off so easily.  He could not abnegate his responsibility and\ncast it upon others.  Public men frequently think they can do so: they\nsay that they bow to the force of public opinion, but wash their hands\nof the deed.  But if their position, like Pilate's, demands that they\nshould decide for themselves and take the consequences, the guilt of\nsinful action clings to them and cannot be transferred.  This whole\nscene, indeed, is a mirror for magistrates, to show them down what dark\npaths they may be pushed if they resign themselves to be the mere tools\nof the popular will.  Pilate ought to have opposed the popular will at\nwhatever risk and refused to do the deed of which he disapproved.  But\nsuch a course would have involved loss to himself; and this was the\nreal reason for his conduct.\n\nThe populace felt their triumph, and in reply to his solemn\ndissociation of himself from Christ's death sent back the insulting\ncry, \"His blood be on us and on our children.\"  Pilate was afraid of\nthe guilt, but they were not.  Well might the heavens have blackened\nabove them at that word, and the earth shuddered beneath their feet!\nProfaner cry was never uttered.  But they were mad with rage and\nreckless of everything but victory in the contest in which they were\nengaged.  Still, their words were not forgotten in the quarter to which\nthey were directed; and it was not long before the curse which they had\ninvoked descended on their city and their race.  Meanwhile they gained\ntheir end: the will of Pilate was breaking down before their\nwell-directed persistency.\n\n\n\n[1] \"On the return of Jesus from Herod, the Sanhedrists do not seem to\nhave been present.  Pilate had to call them together, presumably from\nthe temple.\"--EDERSHEIM.\n\n[2] See Keim's note.  Westcott and Hort reject it.  Some have further\nseen an impressive coincidence in the name Barabbas, interpreting it\n\"son of the father.\"  Jesus was by no means a rare name.\n\n[3] Hence the contrast, common in popular preaching, between the\nmultitude crying \"Hosanna\" and the same multitude crying \"Crucify\" is\nincorrect.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nTHE CROWN OF THORNS.\n\nPilate had failed in his attempt to save Jesus from the hands of His\nprosecutors, whose rage against their Victim was only intensified by\nthe struggle in which they had engaged; and there was no course now\nopen to him but to hand Jesus over to the executioners for, at least,\nthe preliminary tortures of crucifixion.\n\nIt is not in accordance with modern Christian sentiment to dwell very\nmuch on the physical sufferings of Christ.  Once the feeling on this\nsubject was very different: in old writers, like the mystic Tauler, for\nexample, every detail is enlarged upon and even exaggerated, till the\npage seems to reek with blood and the mind of the reader grows sick\nwith horror.  We rather incline to throw a veil over the ghastly\ndetails, or we uncover them only so far as may be necessary in order to\nunderstand the condition of His mind, in which we seek His real\nsufferings.\n\nThe sacred body of our Lord was exposed to many shocks and cruelties\nbefore the final and complicated horrors of the crucifixion.  First,\nthere was His agony in the garden.  Then--not to speak of the chains\nlaid on Him when He was arrested--there was the blow on the face from\nthe servant of the high priest.  After His condemnation by the\necclesiastical authorities in the middle of the night they \"did spit in\nHis face and buffeted Him;\" and others smote Him with the palms of\ntheir hands, saying, \"Prophesy unto us, Thou Christ.  Who is he that\nsmote Thee?\"  The present is, therefore, the fourth access of physical\nsuffering which He had to endure.\n\nFirst, they scourged Him.  This was done by the Roman soldiers by order\nof their master Pilate, though the governor, in all likelihood, retired\nfrom the scene while it was being inflicted.  It took place, it would\nappear, on the platform where the trial had been held, and in the eyes\nof all.  The victim was stripped and stretched against a pillar, or\nbent over a low post, his hands being tied, so that he had no means of\ndefending himself.  The instrument of torture was a sort of knout or\ncat-o'-nine-tails, with bits of iron or bone attached to the ends of\nthe thongs.  Not only did the blows cut the skin and draw blood, but\nnot infrequently the victim died in the midst of the operation.  Some\nhave supposed that Pilate, out of consideration for Jesus, may have\nmoderated either the number or the severity of the strokes; but, on the\nother hand, his plan of releasing Him depended on his being able to\nshow the Jews that He had suffered severely.  The inability of Jesus to\nbear His own cross to the place of execution was no doubt chiefly due\nto the exhaustion produced by this infliction; and this is a better\nindication of the degree of severity than mere conjecture.\n\nAfter the scourging the soldiers took Him away with them to their own\nquarters in the palace and called together the whole band to enjoy the\nspectacle.  Evidently they thought that He was already condemned to be\ncrucified; and anyone condemned to crucifixion seems, after being\nscourged, to have been handed over to the soldiery to be handled as\nthey pleased, just as a hunted creature, when it is caught, is flung to\nthe dogs.  And, indeed, this comparison is only too appropriate;\nbecause, as Luther has remarked, in those days men were treated as only\nbrutes are treated now.  To us it is incomprehensible how the whole\nband should have been called together merely to gloat over the\nsufferings of a fellow-creature and to turn His pain and shame into\nbrutal mockery.  This, however, was their purpose; and they enjoyed it\nas schoolboys enjoy the terror of a tortured animal.  It must be\nremembered that these were men who on the field of battle were inured\nto bloodshed and at Rome found their chief delight in watching the\nsports of the arena, where gladiators butchered one another to make a\nRoman holiday.\n\nTheir horseplay took the form of a mock coronation.  They had caught\nthe drift of the trial sufficiently to know that the charge against\nJesus was that He pretended to be a king; and lofty pretensions on the\npart of one who appears to be mean and poor easily lend themselves to\nridicule.  Besides, in their minds there was perhaps an amused scorn at\nthe thought of a Jew aiming at a sovereignty above that of Caesar.\nForeign soldiers stationed in Palestine cannot have liked the Jews, who\nhated them so cordially; and this may have given an edge to their scorn\nof a Jewish pretender.\n\nThey treated Him as if they believed Him to be a king.  A king must\nwear the purple.  And so they got hold of an old, cast-off officer's\ncloak of this colour and threw it over His shoulders.  Then a king must\nhave a crown.  So one of them ran out to the park in which the palace\nstood and pulled a few twigs from a tree or bush.  These happened to be\nthorny; but this did not matter, it was all the better; they were\nplaited into the rude semblance of a crown and crushed down on His\nhead.  To complete the outfit, a king must have a sceptre.  And this\nthey found without difficulty: a reed, probably used as a\nwalking-stick, being thrust into His right hand.  Thus was the mock\nking dressed up.  And then, as on occasions of state they had seen\nsubjects bow the knee to the emperor, saying, \"_Ave, Caesar!_\" so they\nadvanced one after another to Jesus and, bending low, said, \"Hail, King\nof the Jews!\"  But, after passing with mock solemnity, each turned and,\nwith a burst of laughter, struck Him a blow, using for this purpose the\nreed which He had dropped.  And, though I hardly dare to repeat it,\nthey covered His face with spittle!\n\nWhat a spectacle!  It might have been expected that those who were\nthemselves poor and lowly, and therefore subject to the oppression of\nthe powerful, would have felt sympathy and compassion for one of their\nown station when crushed by the foot of tyranny.  But there is no\ncruelty like the cruelty of underlings.  There is an instinct in all to\nwish to see others cast down beneath themselves; and, especially, if\none who has aimed high is brought low, there is a sense of personal\nexultation at his downfall.  Such are the base passions which lie at\nthe bottom of men's hearts; and the dregs of the dregs of human nature\nwere revealed on this occasion.\n\nWhat must it have been to Jesus to look on it--to have it thrust on His\nsight and into contact with His very person, so that He could not get\naway?  What must it have been to Him, with His delicate bodily organism\nand sensitive mind, to be in the hands of those rude and ruthless men?\nIt was, however, necessary, in order that He might fully accomplish the\nwork which He had come to the world to perform.  He had come to redeem\nhumanity--to go down to the very lowest depths to seek and to save the\nlost; and, therefore, He had to make close acquaintance with human\nnature in its worst specimens and its extremest degradation.  He was to\nbe the Saviour of sinners as bad and degraded as even these soldiers;\nand, therefore, He had to come in contact with them and see what they\nwere.\n\n\nThus have I passed as lightly as was possible over the details; nor\nwould my readers wish me to dwell on them further.  But it will be\nprofitable to linger on this spot a little longer, in order to learn\nthe lessons of the scene.\n\nFirst, notice in the conduct of the tormentors of Jesus the abuse of\none of the gifts of God.  In the conduct of the Roman soldiers from\nfirst to last the most striking feature is that at every point they\nturned their work into horseplay and merriment.  Now, laughter is a\ngift of God.  It is a kind of spice which the Creator has given to be\ntaken along with the somewhat unpalatable food of ordinary life.  It is\na kind of sunshine to enliven the landscape, which is otherwise too\ndull and sombre.  The power of seeing the amusing side of things\nimmensely lightens the load of life; and he who possesses the gift of\nevoking hearty and innocent mirth may be a true benefactor of his\nspecies.[1]\n\nBut, while laughter is a gift of God, there is no other gift of His\nwhich is more frequently abused and converted from a blessing into a\ncurse.  When laughter is directed against sacred things and holy\npersons; when it is used to belittle and degrade what is great and\nreverend; when it is employed as a weapon with which to torture\nweakness and cover innocence with ridicule--then, instead of being the\nfoam on the cup at the banquet of life, it becomes a deadly poison.\nLaughter guided these soldiers in their inhuman acts; it concealed from\nthem the true nature of what they were doing; and it wounded Christ\nmore deeply than even the scourge of Pilate.\n\nA second thing to be noticed is that it was against the kingly office\nof the Redeemer that the opposition of men was directed on this\noccasion.  It was different on a former occasion, when He was abused at\nthe close of the ecclesiastical trial.  Then it was His prophetic\noffice that was turned into ridicule: \"when they had blindfolded Him,\nthey struck Him on the face and asked Him, saying, Prophesy who is it\nthat smote thee.\"  Here, on the other hand, the ridicule was directed\nagainst Him entirely on the ground of His claiming to be a king.  The\nsoldiers considered it an absurdity and a joke that one apparently so\nmean, friendless and powerless should make any such pretensions.\n\nMany a time since then has the same derision been awakened by this\nclaim of Christ.  He is the King of nations.  But earthly kings and\nstatesmen have ridiculed the idea that His will and His law should\ncontrol them in their schemes and ambitions.  Even where His authority\nis nominally acknowledged, both aristocracies and democracies are slow\nto recognise that their legislation and customs should be regulated by\nHis words.  He is King of the Church.  Andrew Melville told King James:\n\"There are two kings and two kingdoms in Scotland; there is King James,\nthe head of this commonwealth, and there is Christ Jesus, the King of\nthe Church, whose subject James VI. is, and of whose kingdom he is not\na king, nor a lord, nor a head, but a member.\"  The entire history of\nthe Scottish Church has been one long struggle to maintain this truth;\nbut the struggle has frequently been carried on in the face of\nopposition almost as scornful as that which assailed Jesus in Pilate's\npalace.  Most vital of all is the acknowledgment of Christ's kingship\nin the realm of the individual life; but it is here that His will is\nmost resisted.  In words we acknowledge allegiance to Him; but in which\nof us has the victory over the flesh been so complete that His full\nclaim has been conceded, to have the arrangement of our business and\nour leisure and to dictate what is to be done with our time, our means\nand our services?\n\nA third lesson is to recognise that in what Jesus bore on this occasion\nHe was suffering for us.\n\nOf all the features of the scene the one that has most impressed the\nimagination of Christendom is the crown of thorns.  It was something\nunusual, and brought out the ingenuity and wantonness of cruelty.\nBesides, as the wound of a thorn has been felt by everyone, it brings\nthe pain of the Sufferer nearer to us than any other incident.  But it\nis chiefly by its symbolism that it has laid hold of the Christian\nmind.  When Adam and Eve were driven from the garden into the bleak and\ntoilsome world, their doom was that the ground should bring forth to\nthem thorns and thistles.  Thorns were the sign of the curse; that is,\nof their banishment from God's presence and of all the sad and painful\nconsequences following therefrom.  And does not the thorn, staring from\nthe naked bough of winter in threatening ugliness, lurking beneath the\nleaves or flowers of summer to wound the approaching hand, tearing the\nclothes or the flesh of the traveller who tries to make his way through\nthe thicket, burning in the flesh where it has sunk, fitly stand for\nthat side of life which we associate with sin--the side of care, fret,\npain, disappointment, disease and death?  In a word, it symbolises the\ncurse.  But it was the mission of Christ to bear the curse; and, as He\nlifted it on His own head, He took it off the world.  He bore our sins\nand carried our sorrows.\n\nWhy is it that, when we think of the crown of thorns now, it is not\nonly with horror and pity, but with an exultation which cannot be\nrepressed?  Because, cruel as was the soldiers' jest, there was a\ndivine fitness in their act; and wisdom was, even through their sin,\nfulfilling her own intention.  There are some persons with faces so\nhandsome that the meanest dress, which would excite laughter or disgust\nif worn by others, looks well on them, and the merest shreds of\nornament, stuck on them anyhow, are more attractive than the most\nelaborate toilets of persons less favoured by nature.  And so about\nChrist there was something which converted into ornaments even the\nthings flung at Him as insults.  When they called Him the Friend of\npublicans and sinners, though they did it in derision, they were giving\nHim a title for which a hundred generations have loved Him; and so,\nwhen they put on His head the crown of thorns, they were unconsciously\nbestowing the noblest wreath that man could weave Him.  Down through\nthe ages Jesus passes, still wearing the crown of thorns; and His\nfollowers and lovers desire for Him no other diadem.\n\nFourthly, this scene teaches the lesson of patience in suffering.\n\nI remember a saint whom it was my privilege to visit in the beginning\nof my life as a minister.  Though poor and uneducated, she was a person\nof very unusual natural powers; her ideas were singularly original, and\nshe had a charming pleasantness of wit.  Though not very old, she knew\nthat she was doomed to die; and the disease from which she was\nsuffering was one of the most painful incident to humanity.  Often, I\nremember, she would tell me, that, when the torture was at the worst,\nshe lay thinking of the sufferings of the Saviour, and said to herself\nthat the shooting pains were not so bad as the spikes of the thorns.\n\nChrist's sufferings are a rebuke to our softness and self-pleasing.  It\nis not, indeed, wrong to enjoy the comforts and the pleasures of life.\nGod sends these; and, if we receive them with gratitude, they may lift\nus nearer to Himself.  But we are too terrified to be parted from them\nand too afraid of pain and poverty.  Especially ought the sufferings of\nChrist to brace us up to endure whatever of pain or reproach we may\nhave to encounter for His sake.  Many would like to be Christians, but\nare kept back from decision by dread of the laughter of profane\ncompanions or by the prospect of some worldly loss.  But we cannot look\nat the suffering Saviour without being ashamed of such cowardly fears.\nIf the crown of thorns now becomes Christ so well as to be the pride\nand the song of men and angels, be assured that any twig from that\ncrown which we may have to wear will one day turn out to be our most\ndazzling ornament.\n\n\n\n[1] A ministerial friend told me that he once, in the hearing of Dr.\nAndrew Bonar, made reference to some things in the life of St. Paul\nwhich seemed to him to betray on the part of the apostle a sense of\nhumour.  He was not very sure how Dr. Bonar might take such a remark,\nand at the close he asked if he agreed with him.  \"Not only,\" was the\nreply, \"do I agree with you, but I go further: I think there are\ndistinct traces of humour in the sayings and the conduct of our Lord;\"\nand he proceeded to quote examples.  Everyone is aware how Dr. Bonar\nhimself knew how to combine with the profoundest reverence and\nsaintliness a strain of delightful mirth; and the absence of this is\nthe great defect of his otherwise charming autobiography.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nTHE SHIPWRECK OF PILATE\n\nWe have lingered long at the judgment-seat of Pilate.  Far too long.\nPilate has detained us.  He knew perfectly well, the first glance he\nbestowed on the case, what it was his duty to do.  But, instead of\nacting at once on his conviction, he put off.  Of such delay good\nseldom comes.  Pilate gave temptation time to assail him.  He resisted\nit, indeed; he fought hard and long against it; but he ought never to\nhave given it the chance.  And he miserably succumbed in the end.\n\n\nI.\n\nWhen Pilate delivered Jesus over to be scourged, it looked as if he had\nsurrendered Him to the cross; and so in all probability the Jews\nthought, because scourging was the usual preliminary to crucifixion.\nHe, however, had not yet abandoned the hope of saving Jesus: he was\nstill secretly adhering to the proposal he had made, to chastise Him\nand then let Him go.  Perhaps, if he retired into the palace while the\nscourging was taking place, his wife may have urged him to make a\nfurther effort on behalf of that Just Man.\n\nAt all events he came out on the platform, round which the Jews were\nstill standing, and informed them that the case was not finished; and,\nas Jesus, whose scourging was now over, came forward, he turned round\nand, pointing to Him, exclaimed with deep emotion, \"Behold the Man.\"\n\nIt was an involuntary expression of commiseration,[1] an appeal to the\nJews to recognize the unreasonableness of proceeding further: Jesus was\nso obviously not such an one as they had tried to make Him out to be;\nat all events He had suffered enough.\n\nBut the Christian mind has in all ages felt in these words a sense\ndeeper than Pilate intended.  As Caiaphas was uttering a greater truth\nthan he knew when he said it was expedient that one should die for the\nwhole people, so in uttering this exclamation the governor was an\nunconscious prophet.  Preachers in every subsequent age have adopted\nhis words and, pointing to Jesus, cried, \"Behold the Man!\"  Painters\nhave chosen this moment, when Jesus came forth, bleeding from the cruel\nstripes and wearing the purple robe and crown of thorns, as the one in\nwhich to portray the Man of Sorrows; and many a priceless canvas bears\nthe title _Ecce Homo_.\n\nFrom Pilate's lips there fell two words which the world will never\nforget--the question, \"What is truth?\" and this exclamation, \"Behold\nthe Man!\"  And the one may be taken as the answer to the other.  When\nthe question, \"What is truth?\" is put with deep earnestness, what does\nit mean but this?--Who will make God known to us? who will clear up the\nmystery of existence? who will reveal to man his own destiny?  And to\nthese questions is there any answer but this; \"Behold the Man\"?  He has\nshown to the sons of men what they ought to be; His is the perfect\nlife, after which every human life ought to be fashioned; He has opened\nthe gates of immortality and revealed the secrets of the other world.\nAnd, what is far more important, He has not only shown us what our life\nhere and hereafter ought to be, but how the ideal may be realised.  He\nis not only the image of perfection but the Saviour from sin.\nTherefore ought the world to turn to Him and \"behold the Man.\"\n\n\nII.\n\nPilate hoped that the sight of the sufferings of Jesus would move the\nhard hearts of His persecutors, as it had moved his own.  But the only\nresponse to his appeal was, \"Crucify Him, crucify Him.\"  It is to be\nnoted, however, that these cruel words now came from \"the chief priests\nand officers.\"  Apparently the common people were moved: they might\nhave yielded, if their superiors had allowed them.  But nothing could\nmove those hard hearts; indeed, the sight of blood only inflamed them\nthe more; and they felt certain that by sheer persistence they could\nbreak down Pilate's opposition.\n\nHe was at his wits' end and replied to them angrily, \"Take ye Him and\ncrucify Him; for I find no fault in Him\"; meaning probably, that he was\nwilling to yield the Prisoner up to their will, if they would take the\nresponsibility of executing Him; if, indeed, he had in his mind any\nclear meaning and was not merely uttering an exclamation of annoyance.\n\nThey perceived that the critical moment had arrived, and at last they\nlet out the true reason for which they desired His death: \"We have a\nlaw, and by our law He ought to die, because He made Himself the Son of\nGod.\"\n\nThis was the ground on which they had condemned Him themselves, though\nup to this point they had kept it concealed.  They had not mentioned\nit, because they thought that Pilate would jeer at it.  It had on him,\nhowever, a very different effect.  All the morning he had been feeling\nuneasy; and the more he saw of Jesus the more he disliked the part he\nwas playing.  But now at length the mention of His claim to be the Son\nof God caused his fears to take a definite and alarming shape.  It\nrevived in his mind the stories, with which his own pagan religion was\nrife, of gods or sons of the gods who had sometimes appeared on earth\nin disguise.  It was dangerous to have to do with them; for any injury\ninflicted on them, even unconsciously, might be terribly avenged.  He\nhad discerned in Jesus something mysterious and inexplicable: what if\nHe were the son of Jehovah, the native deity of Palestine, as Castor\nand Pollux were sons of Jupiter? and might not Jehovah, if He were\ninjured, blast the man who wronged Him with a curse?  Such was the\nterror that flashed through his mind; and, taking Jesus once more\ninside the palace, he asked Him, with a mixture of awe and curiosity,\n\"Whence art Thou?\"\n\nJesus gave him no answer, but again retired into the majestic silence\nwhich at three points already had marked His trial.  In the whole\nconduct of the Saviour in His sufferings there is nothing more sublime\nthan these pauses; but it is not easy at every point to gauge the state\nof mind to which they were due.  Why was Jesus silent at this point?\nSome have said, because it was impossible to answer the question.  He\ncould not have said either Yes or No; for, if He had said that God was\nHis Father, Pilate would have understood the statement in a grossly\npagan sense; and yet, to avoid this, He could not say that He was not\nthe Son of God.  So it was best to say nothing.\n\nThe true explanation, however, is simpler.  Jesus would say nothing\nabout whether He was the Son of God or not, because He did not wish to\nbe released on this ground.  Not as a son of God, but as an innocent\nman, which Pilate had again and again acknowledged Him to be, was He\nentitled to be set free; and His silence called upon Pilate to act on\nthis acknowledgment.\n\nThe judge was more than ever astonished; and he was irritated a little\nat being thus treated.  \"Speakest Thou not unto me?\" he asked,\nflushing; \"knowest Thou not that I have power to crucify Thee and have\npower to release Thee?\"  Poor man! it was to be seen before many\nminutes had passed how much power he had.  And what was this power of\nwhich he boasted?  He spoke as if he had arbitrary discretion to do\nwhatever he pleased.  No just judge would make such a claim: justice\ntakes from him the power to follow his own inclination if it be unjust.\nIt was of this Jesus reminded him when He now answered with quiet\ndignity, \"Thou couldest have no power at all against Me, unless it were\ngiven thee from above.\" [2]  He reminds him that the power he wields is\ndelegated by Heaven, and therefore not to be used according to his own\ncaprice, but according to the dictates of justice.  Yet He added,\n\"Therefore he that delivered Me unto thee hath the greater sin.\"  He\nacknowledged that Pilate was in a position in which he was compelled to\ntry the case: he had not taken it up at his own hand, as the Jewish\nauthorities had done.\n\nThus Jesus recognised all the difficulties of His judge's position and\nwas willing to make for him every allowance.  This was He whom Pilate\nhad, a few minutes before, given over to torture.  Was there ever such\nsublime and unselfish clemency?  Could there have been a more complete\ntriumph over resentment and irritation?  If the silence of Christ was\nsublime, no less sublime, when He did speak, were His words.\n\n\nIII.\n\nPilate felt the greatness and the magnanimity of his Prisoner, and came\nforth determined at all hazards to set Him free.  The Jews saw it in\nhis face.  And at length they brought out their last weapon, which they\nhad been keeping in reserve and Pilate had been fearing all the time:\nthey threatened to complain against him to the emperor; for this was\nthe meaning of what they now cried: \"If thou let this man go, thou art\nnot Caesar's friend: whosoever maketh himself a king speaketh against\nCaesar.\"\n\nThere was nothing which a Roman provincial governor so much dreaded as\na complaint lodged against him at Rome.  And in Pilate's case such an\naccusation, for more reasons than one, would have been specially\nperilous.  The imperial throne was occupied at the time by one who was\na most suspicious master.  Tiberius seemed to delight in humiliating\nand disgracing his subordinates.  Besides, at this very period he was\npeculiarly dangerous.  A diseased body, the punishment of vices long\nindulged, had made his mind gloomy and savage; in fact, he was little\nbetter than a madman--morose, suspicious and malicious.  Nor was any\ncharge so likely to inflame him as the one which they proposed to lay\nagainst Pilate.  It was well known at Rome that the hope of a Messiah\nwas spread throughout the East; and any provincial governor supposed to\nbe favouring or even conniving at the claims of such a pretender would\ncertainly be recalled, probably exiled, and possibly executed.  _Amicus\nCaesaris_, \"Caesar's friend,\" was one of the most coveted titles of a\nman in Pilate's position; and to be accused of acting as no friend of\nCaesar's could act was the most serious of all dangers.\n\nBut there was something else which lent point to the threat of the\nJewish authorities: Pilate well knew that his administration could not\nbear the light of an investigation such as would inevitably follow a\ncomplaint from his subjects.  It is a curious thing that in a secular\nwriter of that age we find an account of another occasion on which this\nsame threat was held over Pilate; and the writer who mentions it adds:\n\"He was afraid that if a Jewish embassy were sent to Rome, they might\ndiscuss the many maladministrations of his government, his extortions,\nhis unjust decrees, his inhuman punishments.\" [3]  Such had been the\ncharacter of Pilate's past life; and now, when he was going to do a\nhumane and righteous act, it stayed his hand.  There is nothing which\nso frustrates good resolutions and paralyzes noble efforts as the dead\nweight of past sins.  Those who are acquainted with secret and\ndiscreditable chapters of a man's history are able, wielding this\nknowledge over his head, to say, Thou shalt not do this good act which\nthou wishest to do, or, Thou shalt do this evil and shameful thing\nwhich we bid thee.  There are companies in which men cannot utter the\nfine, high-sounding things they would say elsewhere, because there are\npresent those who know how their lives have contradicted them.  What is\nit that mocks the generous thought rising in our minds, that silences\nthe noble word on our lips, that paralyzes the forming energy of our\nactions?  Is it not the internal whisper, Remember how you have failed\nbefore?  This is the curse of past sin: it will not let us do the good\nwe would.\n\nBut, if a man has thus committed himself by an evil past, what is he to\ndo?  What ought Pilate to have done?  There is only one course.  It is\nto summon together the resources of his manhood, defy consequences, and\ndo the right forthwith, come what may.  One step taken in loyalty to\nconscience, one word of confession spoken, and in a moment the power of\nthe tyranny is broken, and the spellbound man is free to issue forth\nfrom the inglorious prison of the past.\n\nAlas, Pilate was not equal to any such effort.  For the sake of\nrighteousness, for the sake of this impressive and innocent but obscure\nand friendless Galilean, to face a complaint at Rome and run the risk\nof exile and poverty--the man of the world's philosophy could not rise\nto any such height.  He belonged to the world, whose fashion and\nfavour, pleasures and comforts were the breath of his nostrils; and,\nwhen he heard the menace of his subjects, he surrendered at discretion.\n\nThus Jewish passion and persistency triumphed.  Pilate resisted, but he\nwas forced to yield inch by inch.  He wished to do right; he felt the\nspell of Jesus; and it irritated him to have to go against his\nconscience, but his subjects compelled him to obey their wicked will.\nYet the true reason of his failure was in himself--in the shallowness\nand worldliness of his own character, which this occasion laid bare to\nthe very foundations.[4]\n\n\nIV.\n\nThere was little more to do.  The mind of Pilate was very savage and\nhis heart very sore.  He had been beaten and humiliated; and he would\ngladly inflict some humiliation on his opponents, if he could find a\nway.  He ascended the judgment-seat, \"in a place that is called the\nPavement, but in the Hebrew Gabbatha\"--an act similar in significance,\nI suppose, with our judges' habit, before pronouncing a death sentence,\nof putting on the black cap.  Pointing to Jesus, he exclaimed, \"Behold\nyour King!\"  It was as much as to say that he believed this really to\nbe their Messiah--this poor, bleeding, mishandled Man.  He was trying\nto cut them with a taunt.  And he succeeded: smarting with pain they\nshouted, \"Away with Him! away with Him! crucify Him!\"  \"What,\" he\nproceeded, \"shall I crucify your King?\"  And, borne away with fury,\nthey responded, \"We have no king but Caesar.\"  What a word to come from\nthe representatives of a nation to which pertained \"the adoption and\nthe glory and the covenants and the giving of the law and the service\nof God and the promises!\"  It was the renouncement of their birthright,\nthe abandonment of their destiny.  Pilate well knew what it had cost\ntheir proud hearts thus to forswear the hopes of their fathers and\nacknowledge the right of their conqueror; but to compel them to swallow\nthis bitter draught was some compensation for the cup of humiliation\nthey had compelled him to drink.  And he took them at their word.\n\n\n\n[1] Perhaps also of admiration.  Pilate had never before seen so\nimpressive a specimen of humanity; and the contrast between the\nsweetness and majesty of His appearance and the indignities which He\nhad suffered drew from him this involuntary exclamation.  One recalls\nShakespeare's words about Brutus:\n\n  \"His life was gentle, and the elements\n  So mixed in him, that nature might stand up\n  And say to all the world, This was a Man!\"\n\n[2] We are much tempted on account of the \"therefore\" to explain \"from\nabove\" as referring to the Jewish tribunal.\n\n[3] Philo.\n\n[4] It is a striking illustration of the irony of history that Pilate\nwas overtaken by the very fate to escape which he abandoned Jesus.\nSoon after the Crucifixion his subjects lodged a complaint against him\nat Rome.  He was recalled from his province and never returned.\nUltimately, it is said, he terminated his existence with his own hand,\n\"wearied out with miseries.\"  Many legends in subsequent centuries\nclustered about his name.  Several spots were supposed to be haunted by\nhis restless and despairing spirit, notably a spring in Switzerland on\nthe top of Mount Pilatus, which was thought to have derived its name\nfrom him; but this is more than doubtful.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nJUDAS ISCARIOT\n\nTo the civil trial of our Lord there is a sad appendix, as we have\nalready had one to the ecclesiastical trial.  Christ's great confession\nin the palace of the high priest was accompanied by the great denial of\nPeter outside; and the proceedings in the court of Pontius Pilate were\naccompanied by the final act of the treachery of Judas.  Only in the\nlatter case we are not able with the same accuracy to fix the\ncircumstances of time and place.\n\n\nI.\n\nJudas is one of the darkest riddles of human history.  In the Vision of\nHell the poet Dante, after traversing the circles of the universe of\nwoe, in which each separate kind of wickedness receives its peculiar\npunishment, arrives at last, in the company of his guide, at the\nnethermost circle of all, in the very bottom of the pit, where the\nworst of all sinners and the basest of all sins are undergoing\nretribution.  It is a lake not of fire but of ice, beneath whose\ntransparent surface are visible, fixed in painful postures, the figures\nof those who have betrayed their benefactors; because this, in Dante's\nestimation, is the worst of sins.  In the midst of them stands out,\nvast and hideous, \"the emperor who sways the realm of woe\"--Satan\nhimself; for this was the crime which lost him Paradise.  And the next\nmost conspicuous figure is Judas Iscariot.  He is in the mouth of\nSatan, being champed and torn by his teeth as in a ponderous engine.\n\nSuch was the mediaeval view of this man and his crime.  But in modern\ntimes opinion has swung round to the opposite extreme.  Ours is an age\nof toleration, and one of its favourite occupations is the\nrehabilitation of evil reputations.  Men and women who have stood for\ncenturies in the pillory of history are being taken down; their cases\nare retried; and they are set up on pedestals of admiration.  Sometimes\nthis is done with justice, but is other cases it has been carried to\nabsurdity.  Nobody, it would appear, has ever been very bad; the\ncriminals and scoundrels have been men whose motives have been\nmisunderstood.  Among those on whose behalf the attempt has thus been\nmade to reverse the verdict of history is Judas Iscariot.  Eighteen\ncenturies had agreed to regard him as the meanest of mankind, but in\nour century he has been transmuted into a kind of hero.  The theory is\nof German origin; but it was presented to the English public by De\nQuincey, who adorned it with all the persuasiveness of his meretricious\ngenius.\n\nIt is held that the motive of Judas was totally different from the one\nhitherto supposed: it was not filthy lucre.  The smallness of the price\nfor which he sold his Master--it was less than four pounds of our\nmoney, though the value of this sum was much greater then--proves that\nthere must have been another motive.  The traditional conception is\ninconsistent with Christ's choice of him to be a disciple; and it is\nirreconcilable with the tragic greatness of his repentance.  His view\nof Christ's enterprise was no doubt of a material cast: he expected\nChrist to be a king, and hoped to hold a high place in His court: but\nthese ideas were common to all the disciples, who to the very end were\nwaiting to see their Master throw off the cloak of His humble condition\nand take to Himself His great power and reign; only they left the time\nand the means in their Master's hands, not venturing to criticise His\nproceedings.  Judas was not so patient.  He was a man of energy and\npracticality, and he allowed himself to believe that he had discerned a\ndefect in the character of his Master.  Jesus was too spiritual and\nunworldly for the enterprise on which he had embarked--too much\noccupied with healing, preaching and speculating.  These would be well\nenough when once the kingdom was established; but He was losing His\nopportunities.  His delay had turned against Him the authoritative\nclasses.  One vast force, indeed, was still on His side--the enthusiasm\nof the populace--but even of it He was not taking advantage.  When, on\nPalm Sunday, He was borne into the capital by a crowd throbbing with\nMessianic expectation, He seemed to have in His hand what Judas\nsupposed to be the object of His life; but He did nothing, and the\ncrowd dispersed, disappointed and disheartened.  What Jesus required\nwas to be precipitated into a situation where He would be compelled to\nact.  He lacked energy and decision; but, if He were delivered into the\nhands of the authorities, who were known to be seeking His life, He\ncould hesitate no longer.  When they laid hands on Him, He would of\ncourse liberate Himself from them, and His miraculous power would\nexhibit itself in forms so irresistible as to awaken universal\nenthusiasm.  Thus would His kingdom be set up in magnificence; and the\nman whom the king would delight to honour would surely be the humble\nfollower by whose shrewdness and audacity the crisis had been brought\nabout.\n\n\nII.\n\nEven if this were the true history of Judas, his conduct would not,\nperhaps, be as innocent as it looks.  In the course of His life our\nLord had frequently to deal with persons who attempted, from what\nappeared to themselves to be good motives, to interfere with His\nplans--to precipitate Him into action before His time or to restrain\nHim when His time had come--and He always resented such interference\nwith indignation.  Even His own mother was not spared when she played\nthis part.  To do God's will exactly, neither more nor less, neither\nanticipating it nor lagging behind it, was the inner-most principle of\nthe life of Jesus; and He treated any interference with it as a\nsuggestion of the Evil One.\n\nStill the theory will not hold water.  The Scriptures know nothing of\nit, and it is inconsistent with the tone of moral repulsion in which\nthey speak of Judas.  Besides, they assign a totally different motive.\nThey affirm that Judas was a thief and stole out of the bag from which\nJesus gave to the poor and supplied His own wants--a sacrilege which\nmost thieves would have scorned.  It is in entire accordance with this\nthat the word with which he approached the Sanhedrim was, \"How much\nwill ye give me?\"  That he was willing to accept so little proves how\nstrong his passion was.\n\nIt is altogether impossible that a character of this kind can have been\ncombined with the generous although mistaken enthusiasm which the\ntheory attributes to him.[1]  But, on the other hand, the passion of\navarice may easily have been nourished by brooding with disappointment\non Messianic visions; and the theory of De Quincey may supply important\nhints for unravelling the mystery of his career.\n\nThere can be no doubt that at one time the life of Judas seemed full of\npromise.  Jesus, who was so strict about permitting any to follow Him,\nwould not have chosen him into the apostolic circle unless he had\nexhibited enthusiasm for His person and His cause.  He well knew,\nindeed, that in his motives there was a selfish alloy; but this was the\ncase with all His followers; and fellowship with Himself was the fire\nin which the alloy was to be purged out.\n\nIn the other apostles this process actually took place: they were\nrefined by fellowship with Him.  Their worldliness, indeed, remained to\nthe end of His earthly career, but it was growing less and less; and\nother ties, stronger than their hopes of earthly glory, were slowly but\nsurely binding them indissolubly to His cause.  In Judas, on the\ncontrary, the reverse process took place: what was good in him grew\nless and less, and at last the sole bond which held him to Christ was\nwhat he could make out of the connection.\n\nWhen the suspicion first dawned on him that the hope of a Messianic\nkingdom was not to be fulfilled, the inner man of Judas underwent a\ncritical change.  This happened a year before the end, on the occasion\nwhen Christ resisted the attempt of His followers to take Him by force\nand make Him a king, and when many of His disciples went back and\nwalked no more with Him.  At that time Jesus warned Judas against the\nevil spirit which he was allowing to take possession of his mind by the\nstrong saying, \"Have I not chosen you twelve? and one of you is a\ndevil.\"  But the disciple did not heed the warning.  Perhaps it was at\nthis stage that he commenced to steal from the bag which he carried.\nHe felt that he must have some tangible reward for following Christ,\nand he justified his peculation by saying to himself that what he was\ntaking was infinitely less than he had been led to expect.  He regarded\nhimself as an ill-used man.\n\nUnder the practice of this secret sin his character could not but\nrapidly deteriorate.  Jesus dropped a word of warning now and then; but\nit had the reverse of the desired effect.  Judas knew that Jesus knew;\nand he grew to hate Him.  This was by far the worst aspect of the case.\nThe other disciples were becoming more and more attached to their\nMaster, because they felt increasingly how much they owed Him; but\nJudas did not feel that he owed Him anything: on the contrary, his\nfeeling was that he had been betrayed.  Why should he not betray in\nturn?  There may even have been an element of scorn in selling Christ\nfor so little.\n\nMore than one of the Evangelists seem to connect the treachery of Judas\ndirectly with the scene at Bethany in which Mary anointed Jesus with\ncostly ointment.  Apparently this beautiful act brought all the evil in\nhis heart to such a head that an outbreak could no longer be deferred.\nHis spite found vent in the angry contention that the money ought to\nhave been given to the poor.  It was a large sum, off which he could\nhave taken an unusually large slice of booty.  But probably there was\nmore in the occasion to incense Judas.  To him this feasting and\nanointing, at the moment when the crisis of Christ's fortunes had\nobviously come, appeared sheer folly; as a practical man he despised\nit.  It was manifest that the game was up; a leader loitering and\ndreaming in this fashion at the crisis of his fate was doomed.  It was\ntime to get out of the ship, for it was clearly sinking; but he would\ndo so in such a way as to gratify his resentment, his scorn and his\nlove of money all at once.\n\nThus the master-passion of Judas was nourished from potent springs.\nBut, indeed, avarice in itself is one of the most powerful of motives.\nIn the teaching of the pulpit it may seldom be noticed, but both in\nScripture and in history it occupies a prominent place.  It is\nquestionable if anything else makes so many ill deeds to be done.\nAvarice breaks all the commandments.  Often has it put the weapon into\nthe hand of the murderer; in most countries of the world it has in\nevery age made the ordinary business of the market-place a warfare of\nfalsehood; the bodies of men and the hearts of women have been sold for\ngold.  Why is it that gigantic wrongs flourish from age to age, and\npractices utterly indefensible are continued with the overwhelming\nsanction of society?  It is because there is money in them.  Avarice is\na passion of demonic strength; but it may help us to keep it out of our\nhearts to remember that it was the sin of Judas.\n\n\nIII.\n\nThe repentance of Judas is alleged as the sign of a superior spirit.\nCertainly it is an indication of the goodness which he once possessed,\nbecause it is only by the light of a spark of goodness that the\ndarkness of sin can be perceived; and the more the conscience has been\nenlightened the severer is the reaction when it is outraged.  Those who\nhave in any degree shared the company of Christ can never afterwards be\nas if they had not enjoyed this privilege; and religion, if it does not\nsave, will be the cruellest element in the soul's perdition.\n\nIt is not certain at what point the reaction in the mind of Judas set\nin.[2]  There were many incidents of the trial well calculated to\nawaken in him a revulsion of feeling.  At length, however, the\nretributive powers of conscience were thoroughly aroused--those powers\nwhich in all literature have formed the theme of the deepest tragedy;\nwhich in the Bible are typified by Cain, escaping as a fugitive and a\nvagabond from the cry of his brother's blood; which in Greek literature\nare shadowed forth by the terrible figures of the Eumenides, with\ngorgon faces and blood-dropping eyes, following silently but\nremorselessly those upon whose track they have been set; and which in\nShakespeare are represented in the soul-curdling scenes of Macbeth and\nRichard III.  He was seized with an uncontrollable desire to undo what\nhe had done.  The money, on which his heart had been set, was now like\na spectre to his excited fancy.  Every coin seemed to be an eye through\nwhich eternal justice was gazing at his crime or to have a tongue\ncrying out for vengeance.  As the murderer is irresistibly drawn back\nto the spot where his victim lies, he returned to the place where his\ndeed of treachery had been transacted and, confronting those by whom he\nhad been employed, handed back the money with the passionate\nconfession, \"I have betrayed innocent blood.\"  But he had come to\nmiserable comforters.  With cynical disdain they asked, \"What is that\nto us?  See thou to that.\"  They had been cordial enough to him when he\nhad come before, but now, after the instrument has served their turn,\nthey fling it contemptuously aside.  The miserable man had to turn away\nfrom the scorn of the partners of his guilt; but he could keep the\nmoney no longer--it was burning in his hands--and, before escaping from\nthe precincts, he flung it down.  This is said to have happened in that\npart of the temple which could be entered only by the priests;[3] and\nhe must either have made a rush across the forbidden threshold or\navailed himself of an open door to fling it in.  Not only did he desire\nto be rid of it, but a passionate impulse urged him to leave with the\npriests their own share of the guilt.\n\nThen he rushed away from the temple.  But where was he going?  Oh that\nit had been in him to flee to Christ--that, breaking through all\nobstacles and rules, he had rushed to Him wherever He was to be found\nand cast himself at His feet!  What if the soldiers had cut him down?\nThen he would have been the martyr of penitence, and that very day he\nwould have been with Christ in Paradise.  Judas repented of his sin; he\nconfessed it; he cast from him the reward of iniquity; but his\npenitence lacked the element which is most essential of all--he did not\nturn to God.  True repentance is not the mere horror and excitement of\na terrified conscience: it is the call of God; it is letting go the\nevil because the good has prevailed; it includes faith as well as fear.\n\n\nIV.\n\nThe manner of his end is also used as an argument in favour of the more\nhonourable view of Judas.  The act of suicide is one which has not\ninfrequently been invested with a glamour of romance, and to go out of\nlife the Roman way, as it is called, has been considered, even by\nChristians, an evidence of unusual strength of mind.  The very reverse\nis, however, the true character of suicide: except in those melancholy\ncases where the reason is impaired, it must be pronounced the most\ncontemptible act of which a human being is capable.  It is an escape\nfrom the burdens and responsibilities of existence; but these burdens\nand responsibilities are left to be borne by others, and along with\nthem is left an intolerable heritage of shame.  From a religious point\nof view it appears in a still worse light.  Not only does the suicide,\nas even heathen writers have argued, desert the post of duty where\nProvidence has placed him, but he virtually denies the character and\neven the existence of God.  He denies His character, for, if he\nbelieved in His mercy and love, he would flee to instead of from Him;\nand he denies His existence, for no one who believed that he was to\nmeet God on the other side of the veil would dare in this disorderly\nway to rush into His presence.\n\nThe mode of Judas' suicide was characteristically base.  Hanging does\nnot appear to have been at all usual among the Jews.  In the entire Old\nTestament there is said to occur only a single case; and, strange to\nsay, it is that of the man who, in the principal act of his life also,\nwas the prototype of Judas.  Ahithophel, the counsellor and friend of\nDavid, betrayed his master, as Judas betrayed Christ; and he came to\nthe same ignominious end.\n\nIt would seem, further, that the hanging of Judas was accompanied with\ncircumstances of unusual horror.  This we gather from the account in\nthe beginning of Acts.[4]  The terms employed are obscure; but they\nprobably signify that the suicidal act was attended by a clumsy\naccident, in consequence of which the body, being suspended over a\nprecipice and suddenly dropped by the snapping of the rope, was mangled\nin a shocking manner, which made a profound impression on all who heard\nof it.[5]\n\nAnd this sense of his end being accursed was further accentuated in the\nminds of the early Christians by the circumstance that the money for\nwhich he had sold Christ was eventually used for the purchase of a\ngraveyard for burying strangers in.  The priests, though they picked up\nthe coins from the floor over which Judas had strewn them, did not,\nscrupulous men, consider them good enough to be put in the sacred\ntreasury; so they applied them to this purpose.  The public wit,\nhearing of it, dubbed the place the Field of Blood; and thus the\ncemetery became a kind of monument to the traitor, of which he took\npossession as the first of the outcasts for whom it was designed.\n\n\nThe world has agreed to regard Judas as the chief of sinners; but, in\nso judging, it has exceeded its prerogative.  Man is not competent to\njudge his brother.  The master-passion of Judas was a base one; Dante\nmay be right in considering treachery the worst of crimes; and the\nsupreme excellence of Christ affixes an unparalleled stigma to the\ninjury inflicted on Him.  But the motives of action are too hidden, and\nthe history of every deed is too complicated, to justify us in saying\nwho is the worst of men.  It is not at all likely that those whom human\nopinion would rank highest in merit or saintliness will be assigned the\nsame positions in the rewards of the last day; and it is just as\nunlikely that human estimates are right when they venture to assign the\ndegrees of final condemnation.  Two things it is our duty to do in\nregard to Judas: first, not so to palliate his sin as to blunt the\nhealthy, natural abhorrence of it; and, secondly, not to think of him\nas a sinner apart and alone, with a nature so different from our own\nthat to us he can be no example.  But for the rest, there is only one\nverdict which is at once righteous, dignified and safe; and it is\ncontained in the declaration of St. Peter, that he \"went to his own\nplace.\"\n\n\n\n[1] Hanna, in _The Last Day of Our Lord's Passion_, attempts to combine\nboth motives, but without being able really to unite them; they remain\nas distinct as oil and water.\n\n[2] If, as St. Matthew seems to indicate, Judas disappeared from the\nscene long before the end of the trial, this is strongly against the\ntheory of De Quincey, according to which he must have stayed to the\nlast moment, hoping to see Jesus assert Himself.\n\n[3] _En to nao_.\n\n[4] St. Matthew knows best the beginning, St. Luke the end of the story.\n\n[5] De Quincey's interpretation of the words as a description of mental\nanguish must be felt by every reader of the brilliant essay to be\nforced and unnatural.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nVIA DOLOROSA\n\nWe have finished the first part of our theme--the Trial of Jesus--and\nturn now to the second and more solemn part of it--His Death.  The\ntrial had been little better than a mockery of justice: on the part of\nthe ecclesiastical authority it was a foregone conclusion, and on the\npart of the civil authority it was the surrender of a life acknowledged\nto be innocent to the ends of selfishness and policy.  But at last it\nwas over, and nothing remained but to carry the unjust sentence into\nexecution.  So the tribunal of Pilate was closed for the day; the\nprecincts of the palace were deserted by the multitude; and the\nprocession of death was formed.\n\n\nI.\n\nPersons condemned to death in modern times are allowed a few weeks, or\nat least days, to prepare for eternity; but Jesus was crucified the\nsame day on which He was condemned.  There was a merciful law of Rome\nin existence at the time, ordaining that ten days should intervene\nbetween the passing of a capital sentence and its execution; but either\nthis was not intended for use in the provinces or Jesus was judged to\nbe outside the scope of its mercy, because He had made Himself a king.\nAt all events He was hurried straight from the judgment-seat to the\nplace of execution, without opportunity for preparation or farewells.\n\nOf course the sentence was carried out by the soldiers of Pilate.  St.\nJohn, indeed, speaks as if Pilate had simply surrendered Him into the\nhands of the Jews, and they had seen to the execution.  But this only\nmeans that the moral responsibility was theirs.  They did everything in\ntheir power to identify themselves with the deed.  So intent were they\non the death of Jesus, that they could not leave the work to the proper\nparties, but followed the executioners and superintended their\noperations.  The actual work, however, was performed by the hands of\nRoman soldiers with a centurion at their head.\n\nIn this country executions are now carried out in private, inside the\nwalls of the prison in which the criminal has been confined.  Not many\nyears ago, however, they took place in public; and not many generations\nago the procession of death made a tour of the public streets, that the\ncondemned man might come under the observation and maledictions of as\nmany of the public as possible.  This also was the manner of Christ's\ndeath.  Both among the Jews and the Romans executions took place\noutside the gate of the city.  The traditional scene of Christ's death,\nover which the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is built, is inside the\npresent walls, but those who believe in its authenticity maintain that\nit was outside the wall of that date.  This, however, is extremely\ndoubtful; and, indeed, it is quite uncertain outside which gate of the\ncity the execution took place.  The name Calvary or Golgotha probably\nindicates that the spot was a skull-like knoll; but there is no reason\nto think that it was a hill of the size supposed by designating it\nMount Calvary.  Indeed, there is no hill near any gate corresponding to\nthe image in the popular imagination.  In modern Jerusalem there is a\nstreet pointed out as the veritable _Via Dolorosa_ along which the\nprocession passed; but this also is more than doubtful.  Like ancient\nRome, ancient Jerusalem is buried beneath the rubbish of centuries.[1]\nFrom the scene of the trial to the supposed site of the execution is\nnearly a mile.  And it is quite possible that Jesus may have had to\ntravel as far or farther, while an ever-increasing multitude of\nspectators gathered round the advancing procession.\n\nOne special indignity connected with the punishment of crucifixion was\nthat the condemned man had to carry on his back through the streets the\ncross upon which he was about to suffer.  In pictures the cross of\nJesus is generally represented as a lofty structure, such as a number\nof men would have been needed to carry; but the reality was something\ntotally different: it was not much above the height of a man,[2] and\nthere was just enough of wood to support the body.  But the weight was\nconsiderable, and to carry it on the back which had been torn with\nscourging must have been excessively painful.\n\nAnother source of intense pain was the crown of thorns, if, indeed, He\nstill wore it.  We are told that before the procession set out towards\nGolgotha the robes of mockery were taken off and His own garments put\non; but it is not said that the crown of thorns was removed.\n\nMost cruel of all, however, was the shame.  There was a kind of savage\nirony in making the man carry the implement on which he was to suffer;\nand, in point of fact, throughout classical literature this mode of\npunishment is a constant theme of savage banter and derision.[3]\n\nThere is evidence that the imagination of Jesus had occupied itself\nspecially beforehand with this portion of His sufferings.  Long before\nthe end He had predicted the kind of death He should die; but even\nbefore these predictions had commenced He had described the sacrifices\nwhich would have to be made by those who became His disciples as\ncross-bearing--as if this were the last extreme of suffering and\nindignity.  Did He so call it simply because His knowledge of the world\ninformed Him of this as one of the greatest indignities of human life?\nor was it the foreknowledge that He Himself was to be one day in this\nposition which coloured His language?  We can hardly doubt that the\nlatter was the case.  And now the hour on which His imagination had\ndwelt was come, and in weakness and helplessness He had to bear the\ncross in the sight of thousands who regarded Him with scorn.  To a\nnoble spirit there is no trial more severe than shame--to be the object\nof cruel mirth and insolent triumph.  Jesus had the lofty and refined\nself-consciousness of one who never once had needed to cringe or stoop.\nHe loved and honoured men too much not to wish to be loved and honoured\nby them; He had enjoyed days of unbounded popularity, but now His soul\nwas filled with reproach to the uttermost; and He could have\nappropriated the words of the Psalm, \"I am a worm and no man; a\nreproach of men and despised of the people.\"\n\nThe reproach of Christ is all turned into glory now; and it is very\ndifficult to realise how abject the reality was.  Nothing perhaps\nbrings this out so well as the fact that two robbers were sent away to\nbe executed with Him.  This has been regarded as a special insult\noffered to the Jews by Pilate, who wished to show how contemptuously he\ncould treat One whom he affected to believe their king.  But more\nlikely it is an indication of how little more Christ was to the Roman\nofficials than any one of the prisoners whom they put through their\nhands day by day.  Pilate, no doubt, had been interested and puzzled\nmore than usual; but, after all, Jesus was only one of many; His\nexecution could be made part of the same job with that of the other\nprisoners on hand.  And so the three, bearing their crosses, issued\nfrom the gates of the palace together and took the Dolorous Way.\n\n\nII.\n\nThough He bore His own cross out of the palace of Pilate, He was not\nable to carry it far.  Either He sank beneath it on the road or He was\nproceeding with such slow and faltering steps that the soldiers,\nimpatient of the delay, recognised that the burden must be removed from\nHis shoulders.  The severity of the scourging was in itself sufficient\nto account for this breakdown; but, besides, we are to consider the\nsleepless night through which He had passed, with its anxiety and\nabuse; and before it there had been the agony of Gethsemane.  No wonder\nHis exhaustion had reached a point at which it was absolutely\nimpossible for Him to proceed farther with such a burden.\n\nOne or two of the soldiers might have relieved Him; but, in the spirit\nof horseplay and mischief which had characterised their part of the\nproceedings from the moment when Christ fell into their hands, they lay\nhold of a casual passer-by and requisitioned his services for the\npurpose.  He was coming in from the region beyond the gate as they were\ngoing out, and they acted under the sanction of military law or custom.\n\nTo the man it must have been an extreme annoyance and indignity.\nDoubtless he was bent on business of his own, which had to be deferred.\nHis family or his friends might be waiting for him, but he was turned\nthe opposite way.  To touch the instrument of death was as revolting to\nhim as it would be to us to handle the hangman's rope; perhaps more so,\nbecause it was Passover time, and this would make him ceremonially\nunclean.  It was a jest of the soldiers, and he was their\nlaughing-stock.  As he walked by the side of the robbers, it looked as\nif he were on the way to execution himself.\n\nThis is a lively image of the cross-bearing to which the followers of\nChrist are called.  We are wont to speak of trouble of any kind as a\ncross; and doubtless any kind of trouble may be borne bravely in the\nname of Christ.  But, properly speaking, the cross of Christ is what is\nborne in the act of confessing Him or for the sake of His work.  When\nanyone makes a stand for principle, because he is a Christian, and\ntakes the consequences in the shape of scorn or loss, this is the cross\nof Christ.  The pain you may feel in speaking to another in Christ's\nname, the sacrifice of comfort or time you may make in engaging in\nChristian work, the self-denial you exercise in giving of your means\nthat the cause of Christ may spread at home or abroad, the reproach you\nmay have to bear by identifying yourself with militant causes or with\ndespised persons, because you believe they are on Christ's side--in\nsuch conduct lies the cross of Christ.  It involves trouble, discomfort\nand sacrifice.  One may fret under it, as Simon did; one may sink under\nit, as Jesus did Himself; it is ugly, painful, shameful often; but no\ndisciple is without it.  Our Master said, \"He that taketh not his cross\nand followeth after Me is not worthy of Me.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nThe one thing which makes Simon an imperfect type of the cross-bearer\nis that we are uncertain whether or not he bore the burden voluntarily.\nThe Roman soldiers forced it on him; but was it force-work and nothing\nelse?\n\nSome have supposed that he was an adherent of Christ; but it is\nextremely improbable that, just at the moment when the soldiers needed\nsomeone for their purpose, one of the very few followers of Jesus\nshould have appeared.  The tone of the narrative seems rather to\nindicate that he was one who happened to be there by mere chance and\nhad nothing to do with the proceedings till, against his will, he was\nmade an actor in the drama.\n\nHe is said by the Evangelist to have been a Cyrenian, that is, an\ninhabitant of Cyrene, a city in North Africa.  Strangers from this\nplace are mentioned among those who were present soon after at the\nFeast of Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit descended on the Church in\ntongues of fire.  And the probability is that Simon had, in a similar\nway, come from his distant home to the Passover.[4]\n\nHe had come on pilgrimage.  Perhaps he was a devout soul, waiting for\nthe consolation of Israel.  In far Cyrene he may have been praying for\nthe coming of the Messiah and, before setting out on this journey,\npleading for a season of unusual blessing.  God had heard and was going\nto answer his prayers, but in a way totally different from his\nexpectations.\n\nFor apparently this _rencontre_ issued in his salvation and in the\nsalvation of his house.  The Evangelist calls him familiarly \"the\nfather of Alexander and Rufus.\"  Evidently the two sons were well known\nto those for whom St. Mark was writing; that is, they were members of\nthe Christian circle.  And there can be little doubt that the\nconnection of his family with the Church was the result of this\nincident in the father's life.  St. Mark wrote his Gospel for the\nChristians of Rome; and in the Epistle to the Romans one Rufus is\nmentioned as resident there along with his mother.  This may be one of\nthe sons of Simon.  And in Acts xiii. 1 one Simeon--the same name as\nSimon--is mentioned along with a Lucius of Cyrene as a conspicuous\nChristian at Antioch: he is called Niger, or Black, a name not\nsurprising for one who had been tanned by the hot sun of Africa.  There\nare Alexanders mentioned elsewhere in the New Testament; but the name\nwas common, and there is not much probability that any of them is to be\nidentified with Simon's son.  Still putting the details aside, we have\nsufficiently clear indications that in consequence of this incident\nSimon became a Christian.\n\nIs it not a significant fact, proving that nothing happens by chance?\nHad Simon entered the city one hour sooner, or one hour later, his\nafter history might have been entirely different.  On the smallest\ncircumstances the greatest results may hinge.  A chance meeting may\ndetermine the weal or woe of a life.  Doubtless to Simon this encounter\nseemed at the moment the most unfortunate incident that could have\nbefallen him--an interruption, an annoyance and a humiliation; yet it\nturned out to be the gateway of life.  Thus do blessings sometimes come\nin disguise, and out of an apparition, at the sight of which we cry out\nfor fear, may suddenly issue the form of the Son of Man.  But it was\nnot Simon's own salvation only that was involved in this singular\nexperience, but that of his family as well.  How much may follow when\nChrist is revealed to any human soul!  The salvation of those yet\nunborn may be involved in it--of children and children's children.\n\nBut think how blessed to Simon would appear in after days the\ncross-bearing which was at the time so bitter!  No doubt it became the\nromance of his life.  And to this day who can help envying him for\nbeing allowed to give his strength to the fainting Saviour and to\nremove the burden from that bleeding and smarting back?  So for all men\nthere is a day coming when any service they have done to Christ will be\nthe memory of which they will be most proud.  It will not be the\nrecollection of the prizes we have won, the pleasures we have enjoyed,\nthe discomforts we have escaped, that will come back to us with delight\nas we review life from its close; but, if we have denied ourselves and\nborne the cross for Christ's sake, the memory of that will be a pillow\nsoft and satisfying for a dying head.  In that day we shall wish that\nthe minutes given to Christ's service had been years, and the pence\npounds; and every cup of cold water and every word of sympathy and\nevery act of self denial will be so pleasant to remember that we shall\nwish they had been multiplied a thousandfold.\n\n\n\n[1] Interesting details in Ross's _Cradle of Christianity_.\n\n[2] A soldier was able to reach up to the lips of Christ on the cross\nwith a sponge on a reed.\n\n[3] See Horace, S. ii. 7, 47; E. i. 16, 48.\n\n[4] Many Jews, indeed, who had once been inhabitants of Cyrene lived in\nJerusalem--old people, probably, who had come to lay their bones in\nholy ground; for we learn from an incidental notice in the Acts that\nthey had a synagogue of their own in the city; and Simon may have been\none of these.  But the other is the more likely case.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nTHE DAUGHTERS OF JERUSALEM\n\nThere are many legends clustering round this portion of our Lord's\nhistory.\n\nIt is narrated, for example, that, when the divine Sufferer, burdened\nwith the cross, was creeping along feebly and slowly, He leaned against\nthe door of a house which stood in the way, when the occupier, striking\na blow, commanded Him to hurry on; to which the Lord, turning to His\nassailant, replied, \"Thou shall go on and never stop till I come\nagain;\" and to this day, unable to find either rest or death, the\nmiserable man still posts over the earth, and shall continue doing so\nuntil the Lord's return.  This is the legend of the Wandering Jew,\nwhich assumed many forms in the lore of other days and still plays a\nsomewhat prominent part in literature.  It is, I suppose, a fantastic\nrepresentation, in the person of an individual, of the tragic fate of\nthe Jewish race, which, since the day when it laid violent hands on the\nSon of God, has had no rest for the sole of its foot.\n\nTo another story of the _Via Dolorosa_ as distinguished a place has\nbeen given in art as to the legend of the Wandering Jew in literature.\nVeronica, a lady in Jerusalem, seeing Christ, as He passed by, sinking\nbeneath His burden, came out of her house and with a towel washed away\nthe blood and perspiration from His face.  And lo! when she examined\nthe napkin with which the charitable act had been performed, it bore a\nperfect likeness of the Man of Sorrows.  Some of the greatest painters\nhave reproduced this scene, and it may be understood as teaching the\nlesson that even the commonest things in life, when employed in acts of\nmercy, are stamped with the image and superscription of Christ.\n\nIn Roman Catholic churches there may generally be seen round the walls\na series of about a dozen pictures, taken from this part of our Lord's\nlife.  They are denominated the Stations of the Cross, because the\nworshippers, going round, stop to look and meditate on the different\nscenes.  In Catholic countries the same idea is sometimes carried out\non a more imposing scale.  On a knoll or hill in the neighbourhood of a\ntown three lofty crosses stand; the road to them through the town is\ncalled _Via Calvarii_, and at intervals along the way the scenes of our\nLord's sad journey are represented by large frescoes or bas-reliefs.\n\nBut we really know for certain of only two incidents of the _Via\nDolorosa_--that in which our Lord was relieved of His cross by Simon\nthe Cyrenian and that, which we are now to consider, of the sympathetic\ndaughters of Jerusalem.\n\n\nI.\n\nThe reader of the history of our Lord in its last stages is sated with\nhorrors.  In some of the scenes through which we have recently\naccompanied Him we have seemed to be among demons rather than men.  The\nmind longs for something to relieve the monstrous spectacles of fanatic\nhate and cold-blooded cruelty.  Hence this scene is most welcome, in\nwhich a blink of sunshine falls on the path of woe, and we are assured\nthat we need not lose faith in the human heart.\n\nIt was, indeed, a surprising demonstration.  It would hardly have been\ncredited, had it not there been made manifest, that Jesus had so strong\na hold upon any section of the population of Jerusalem.  In the capital\nHe had always found the soil very unreceptive.  Jerusalem was the\nheadquarters of rabbinic learning and priestly arrogance--the home of\nthe Pharisee and the Sadducee, who guided public opinion; and there,\nfrom first to last, He had made few adherents.  It was in the\nprovinces, especially in Galilee, that He had been the idol of the\npopulace.  It was by the Galilean pilgrims to the Passover that He was\nconvoyed into the capital with shouts of Hosanna; but the inhabitants\nof the city stood coldly aloof, and before Pilate's judgment-seat they\ncried out, \"Crucify Him, crucify Him!\"\n\nYet now it turns out that He has touched the heart of one section at\nleast even of this community: \"There followed Him a great company of\npeople and of women, which[1] also bewailed and lamented Him.\"  Some\nhave considered this so extraordinary that they have held these women\nto be Galileans; but Jesus addressed them as \"daughters of Jerusalem.\"\nThe Galilean men who had surrounded Him in His hour of triumph put in\nno appearance now in His hour of despair; but the women of Jerusalem\nbroke away from the example of the men and paid the tribute of tears to\nHis youth, character and sufferings.  It is said that there was a\nJewish law forbidding the showing of any sympathy to a condemned man;\nbut, if so, this demonstration was all the more creditable to those who\ntook part in it.  The upwelling of their emotion was too sincere to be\ndammed back by barriers of law and custom.\n\nIt is said there is no instance in the Gospels of a woman being an\nenemy of Jesus.  No woman deserted or betrayed, persecuted or opposed\nHim.  But women followed Him, they ministered to Him of their\nsubstance, they washed His feet with tears, they anointed His head with\nspikenard; and now, when their husbands and brothers were hounding Him\nto death, they accompanied Him with weeping and wailing to the scene of\nmartyrdom.[2]\n\nIt is a great testimony to the character of Christ on the one hand and\nto that of woman on the other.  Woman's instinct told her, however\ndimly she at first apprehended the truth, that this was the Deliverer\nfor her.  Because, while Christ is the Saviour of all, He has been\nspecially the Saviour of woman.  At His advent, her degradation being\nfar deeper than that of men, she needed Him more; and, wherever His\ngospel has travelled since then, it has been the signal for her\nemancipation and redemption.  His presence evokes all the tender and\nbeautiful qualities which are latent in her nature; and under His\ninfluence her character experiences a transfiguration.[3]\n\nIt has, indeed, been contended that there was no great depth in the\nemotion of the daughters of Jerusalem; and we need not deny the fact.\nTheir emotion was no outburst of faith and repentance, carrying with it\nrevolutionary effects, as tears may sometimes be.  It was an overflow\nof natural feeling, such as might have been caused by any pathetic\ninstance of misfortune.  It was not unlike the tears which may be still\nmade to flow from the eyes of the tender-hearted by a moving account of\nthe sufferings of Christ; and we know that such emotions are sometimes\nfar from lasting.  Our nature consists of several strata, of which\nemotion is the most superficial; and it is not enough that religion\nshould operate in this uppermost region; it must be thrust down,\nthrough emotion, into the deeper regions, such as the conscience and\nthe will, and catch hold and kindle there, before it can achieve the\nmastery of the entire being.\n\nBut this response of womanhood to Christ was a beginning; and therein\nlay its significance.  It was to Him a foretaste of the splendid\ndevotion which He was yet to receive from the womanhood of the world.\nIt was as welcome to Him in that hour of desertion and reproach as is\nthe sight of a tuft of grass to the thirsty traveller in the desert.\nThe sounds of sympathy flowed over His soul as gratefully as the gift\nof Mary's love enveloped His senses when the house was filled with the\nodour of the ointment.\n\nThus in the _Via Dolorosa_ Jesus experienced two alleviations of His\nsuffering: the strength of a man relieved His body of the burden of the\ncross, and the pain of His soul was cooled by the sympathy of women.\nIs it not a parable--a parable of what men and women can do for Him\nstill?  Christ needs the strength of men--the strong arm, the vigorous\nhand, the shoulders that can bear the burden of His cause; He seeks\nfrom men the mind whose originality can plan what needs to be done, the\nresolute will that pushes the work on in spite of opposition, the\nliberal hand that gives ungrudgingly what is required for the progress\nand success of the Christian enterprise.  From women he seeks sympathy\nand tears.  They can give the sensibility which keeps the heart of the\nworld from hardening; the secret knowledge which finds out the objects\nof Christian compassion and wins their confidence; the enthusiasm which\nburns like a fire at the heart of religious work.  The influence of\nwomen is subtle and remote; but it is on this account all the more\npowerful; for they sit at the very fountains, where the river of human\nlife is springing, and where a touch may determine its entire\nsubsequent course.\n\n\nII.\n\nIt has been allowed to condemned men in all ages to speak to the crowds\nassembled to witness their death.  The dying speech used in this\ncountry to be a regular feature of executions.  Even in ages of\npersecution the martyrs were usually allowed, as they ascended the\nladder, to address the multitude; and these testimonies, some of which\nwere of singular power and beauty, were treasured by the religious\nsection of the community.  It is nothing surprising, therefore, that\nJesus should have addressed those who followed Him or should have been\npermitted to do so.  No doubt He was at the last point of exhaustion,\nbut, when He was relieved of the weight of the cross, He was able to\nrally strength sufficient for this effort.  Pausing in the road and\nturning to the women, whose weeping and wailing were filling His ears,\nHe addressed Himself to them.\n\nHis words are, in the first place, a revelation of Himself.  They show\nwhat was demonstrated again and again during the crucifixion--how\ncompletely He could forget His own sufferings in care and anxiety for\nothers.  His sufferings had already been extreme; His soul had been\nfilled with injustice and insult; at this very moment His body was\nquivering with pain and His mind darkened with the approach of still\nmore atrocious agonies.  Yet, when He heard behind Him the sobs of the\ndaughters of Jerusalem, there rushed over His soul a wave of compassion\nin which for the moment His own troubles were submerged.\n\nWe see in His words, too, the depth and fervour of His patriotism.\nWhen He saw the tears of the women, the spectacle raised in His mind an\nimage of the doom impending over the city whose daughters they were.\nJerusalem, as has been already said, had always been extremely\nunresponsive to Him; she had played to Him an unmotherly part.  None\nthe less, however, did He feel for her the love of a loyal son.  He had\nshown this a few days before, when, in the midst of His triumph, He\npaused on the brow of Olivet, where the city came into view, and burst\ninto a flood of tears, accompanied with such a lyric cry of affection\nas has never been addressed to any other city on earth.  Subsequently,\nsitting with His disciples over against the temple, He showed how well\nHe foreknew the terrible fate which hung over the capital of His\ncountry, and how poignantly He felt it.  The city's doom was nigh at\nhand: less than half a century distant: and it was to be unparalleled\nin its horror.  The secular historian of it, himself a Jew, says in his\nnarrative: \"There has never been a race on earth, and there never will\nbe one, whose sufferings can be matched with those of Jerusalem in the\ndays of the siege.\"  It was the foresight of this which made Jesus now\nsay, \"Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for Me, but weep for yourselves\nand for your children.\"\n\nHis words, still further, reveal His consideration for women and\nchildren.  The tears of the women displayed an appreciation and\nsympathy for Him such as the men were incapable of; but well did He\ndeserve them, for His words show that He had a comprehension of women\nand a sympathy with them such as had never before existed in the world.\nWith the force of the imagination and the heart He realised how, in the\napproaching siege, the heaviest end of the misery would fall on the\nfemale portion of the population, and how the mothers would be wounded\nthrough their children.  In that country, where children were regarded\nas the crown and glory of womanhood, the currents of nature would be so\ncompletely reversed by the madness of hunger and pain that barrenness\nwould be esteemed fortunate; and in a country where length of days had\nbeen considered the supreme blessing of life they would long and cry\nfor sudden and early death.\n\nSo it actually turned out.  An outstanding feature of the siege of\nJerusalem, according to the secular historian, was the suffering of the\nwomen and children.  Besides using every other device of warfare, the\nRomans deliberately resorted to starvation, and the inhabitants endured\nthe uttermost extremities of hunger.  So frenzied did the men become at\nlast that every extra mouth requiring to be filled became an object of\ndelirious suspicion, and the last morsels were snatched from the lips\nof the women and children.  One is tempted to quote some of the stories\nof Josephus about this, but they are so awful that it would be scarcely\ndecent to repeat them.\n\nThis was what the quick sympathy of Jesus enabled Him to divine; and\nHis compassion gushed forth towards those who were to be the chief\nsufferers.  Women and children--how irreverently they have been thought\nof, how callously and brutally treated, since history began!  Yet they\nare always the majority of the human race.  Praise be to Him who lifted\nthem, and is still lifting them, out of the dust of degradation and\nill-usage, and who put in on their behalf the plea of justice and mercy!\n\nFinally, there was in the words addressed to the daughters of Jerusalem\nan exhortation to repentance.  When Jesus said, \"Weep for yourselves\nand for your children,\" He was referring not merely to the approaching\ncalamities of the city, but to its guilt.  This was indicated most\nclearly in the closing words of His address to them--\"For if they do\nthese things in a green tree, what shall be done in the dry?\"\n\nHe could speak of Himself as a green tree.  He was young and He was\ninnocent; to this the tears of the women testified; there was no reason\nwhy He should die; yet God permitted all these things to happen to Him.\nThe Jewish nation ought also to have been a green tree.  God had\nplanted and tended it; it had enjoyed every advantage; but, when He\ncame seeking fruit on it, He found none.  It was withered; the sap of\nvirtue and godliness had gone out of it; it was dry and ready for the\nburning; and, when the enemy came to apply the firebrand, why should\nGod interpose?  Thus did Jesus attempt once more to awaken repentance.\nHe wished to thrust the impressions of the daughters of Jerusalem down\nfrom the region of feeling into a deeper place.  They had given Him\ntears of emotion; He desired, besides these, tears of contrition; for\nin religion nothing is accomplished till impression touches the\nconscience.\n\nWhether any of them responded in earnest we cannot tell.  Not many, it\nis to be feared.  Nor can we tell whether by repentance the destruction\nof the Jewish state might still have been averted.  At all events, the\nfire of invasion soon fell on the dry tree, and it was burnt up.  And\nsince then those who would not weep for their sins before the stroke of\npunishment fell have had to weep without ceasing.  Visitors to\nJerusalem at the present day are conducted to a spot called the Place\nof Wailing, where every Friday representatives of the race weep for the\ndestruction of their city and temple.[4]  This has gone on for\ncenturies; and it is only a symbol of the cup of astonishment, filled\nto the brim, which has during many centuries been held to the lips of\nIsrael.  Sin must be wept for some time--if not before punishment has\nfallen, then after; if not in time, then in eternity.  This is a lesson\nfor all.  And has not that final word of Jesus a meaning for us even\nmore solemn than it had for those to whom it was first addressed--\"If\nthese things be done in a green tree, what shall be done in the dry?\"\nIf woe and anguish fell, as they did, even on the Son of God, when He\nwas bearing the sins of the world, what will be the portion of those\nwho have to bear their own?\n\n\n\n[1] The participle refers to the women alone.\n\n[2] \"How slow we have been to ask our _sister_ members to help\nus!--although we read of deaconesses in the early Church, and although\nwe do not read of a single woman who was unkind and unfaithful to the\nSaviour while here upon earth.  Men were diabolic in their cruelty to\nHim, but never did a woman betray Him, mock Him, desert Him, nor spit\nin His face.  Many of them cheered Him on His way to the Cross, washing\nHis feet with tears before men pierced them with nails, anointing His\nhead with precious perfume in anticipation of the thorns with which men\ncrowned Him.  They wept with Him on the way to Calvary, and were true\nto Him to the very end.  And are they not devoted and true to Him\nstill?  Why, then, have we been so long in calling for their\nservices?\"--E. HERBERT EVANS, D.D.\n\n[3] Brace, _Gesta Christi_.\n\n[4] Striking description in Baring-Gould, _The Passion of Jesus_, p. 75.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nCALVARY\n\nAnyone writing on the life of our Lord must many a time pause in secret\nand exclaim to himself, \"It is high as heaven, what canst thou do?\ndeeper than hell, what canst thou know?\"  But we have now arrived at\nthe point where this sense of inadequacy falls most oppressively on the\nheart.  To-day we are to see Christ crucified.  But who is worthy to\nlook at this sight?  Who is able to speak of it?  \"Such knowledge is\ntoo wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain unto it.\"  In the\npresence of such a subject one feels one's mind to be like some tiny\ncreature at the bottom of the sea--as incapable of comprehending it all\nas is the crustacean of scooping up the Atlantic in its shell.\n\nThis spot to which we have come is the centre of all things.  Here two\neternities meet.  The streams of ancient history converge here, and\nhere the river of modern history takes its rise.  The eyes of\npatriarchs and prophets strained forward to Calvary, and now the eyes\nof all generations and of all races look back to it.  This is the end\nof all roads.  The seeker after truth, who has explored the realms of\nknowledge, comes to Calvary and finds at last that he has reached the\ncentre.  The weary heart of man, that has wandered the world over in\nsearch of perfect sympathy and love, at last arrives here and finds\nrest.  Think how many souls every Lord's Day, assembled in church and\nchapel and meeting-house, are thinking of Golgotha! how many eyes are\nturned thither every day from beds of sickness and chambers of death!\n\"Lord, to whom can we go?  Thou hast the words of eternal life.\"\n\nThough, therefore, the theme is too high for us, yet we will venture\nforward.  It is too high for human thought; yet nowhere else is the\nmind so exalted and ennobled.  At Calvary poets have sung their\nsweetest strains, and artists seen their sublimest visions, and\nthinkers excogitated their noblest ideas.  The crustacean lies at the\nbottom of the ocean, and the world of waters rolls above it; it cannot\nin its tiny shell comprehend these leagues upon leagues of solid\ntranslucent vastness; and yet the ocean fills its shell and causes its\nlittle body to throb with perfect happiness.  And so, though we cannot\ntake in all the meaning of the scene before which we stand, yet we can\nfill mind and heart with it to the brim, and, as it sends through our\nbeing the pulsations of a life divine, rejoice that it has a breadth\nand length, a height and depth, which pass understanding.\n\n\nI.\n\nThe long journey through the streets to the place of execution was at\nlength ended, and thereby the weary journeyings of the Sufferer came to\na close.  The soldiers set about their preparations for the last act.\nBut meanwhile a little incident occurred which the behaviour of Jesus\nfilled with significance.\n\nThe wealthy ladies of Jerusalem had the practice of providing for those\ncondemned to the awful punishment of crucifixion a soporific draught,\ncomposed of wine mixed with some narcotic like gall or myrrh,[1] to\ndull the senses and deaden the pain.  It was a benevolent custom; and\nthe cup was offered to all criminals, irrespective of their crimes.  It\nwas administered immediately before the frightful work of nailing the\nculprit to the tree commenced.  This draught was handed to Jesus on His\narrival at Golgotha.  Exhausted with fatigue and burning with thirst,\nHe grasped the cup eagerly and lifted it without suspicion to His lips.\nBut, as soon as He tasted it and felt the fumes of the stupefying\ningredient, He laid it down and would not drink.\n\nIt was a simple act, yet full of heroism.  He was in that extremity of\nthirst when a person will drink almost anything; and He was face to\nface with outrageous torture.  In subsequent times many of His own\nfaithful martyrs, on their way to execution, gladly availed themselves\nof this merciful provision.  But He would not allow His intellect to be\nclouded.  His obedience was not yet complete; His plan was not fully\nwrought out; He would keep His taste for death pure.  I have heard of a\nwoman dying of a frightful malady, who, when she was pressed by those\nwitnessing her agony to take an intoxicating draught, refused, saying,\n\"No, I want to die sober.\"  She had caught, I think, the spirit of\nChrist.\n\nThis is a very strange place in which to alight on the problem of the\nuse and abuse of those products of nature or art which induce\nintoxication or stupefaction.  Roots or juices with such properties\nhave been known to nearly all races, the savage as well as the\ncivilised; and they have played a great part in the life of mankind.\nTheir history is one of the most curious.  They are associated with the\nmysteries of false religions and with the phenomena of heathen prophecy\nand witchcraft; acting on the mind through the senses, they open up in\nit a region of mystery, horror and gloomy magnificence of which the\nnormal man is unconscious.  They have always been a favourite resource\nof the medical art, and in modern times, in such forms as opium and\nother better-known intoxicants, they have created some of the gravest\nmoral problems.\n\nOn the wide question of the use of such substances as stimulants we\nneed not at present enter; it is to their use for the opposite purpose\nof lowering consciousness that this incident draws attention.  That in\nsome cases this use is both merciful and permissible will not be\ndenied.  The discovery in our own day, by one of our own countrymen, of\nthe use of chloroform is justly regarded as among the greatest benefits\never conferred on the human race.  When the unconsciousness thus\nproduced enables the surgeon to perform an operation which might not be\npossible at all without it, or when in the crisis of a fever the sleep\ninduced by a narcotic gives the exhausted system power to continue the\ncombat and saves the life, we can only be thankful that the science of\nto-day has such resources in its treasury.\n\nOn the other hand, however, there are grave offsets to these\nadvantages.  Millions of men and women resort to such substances in\norder to dull the nerves and cloud the brain during pain and sorrow\nwhich God intended them to face and bear with sober courage, as Jesus\nendured His on the cross.  On the medical profession rests the\nresponsibility of so using the power placed in their hands as not to\ndestroy the dignity of the most solemn passages of life.[2]  It will\nfor ever remain true that pain and trial are the discipline of the\nsoul; but to reel through these crises in the drowsy forgetfulness of\nintoxication is to miss the best chances of moral and spiritual\ndevelopment.  Men and women are made perfect through suffering; but\nthat suffering may do its work it must be felt.  There is no greater\nmisfortune than to bear too easily the strokes of God.  A bereavement,\nfor example, is sent to sanctify a home; but it may fail of its mission\nbecause the household is too busy, or because too many are coming and\ngoing, or because tongues, mistakenly kind and garrulous, chatter God's\nmessenger out of doors.  It is natural that physicians and kind friends\nshould try to make sufferers forget their grief.  But they may be too\nsuccessful.  Though the practice of the ladies of Jerusalem was a\nbenevolent one, the gift mixed by their charitable hands appeared to\nour Lord a cup of temptation, and He resolutely put it aside.\n\n\nII\n\nAll was now ready for the last act, and the soldiers started their\nghastly work.\n\nIt is not my intention to harrow up the feelings of my readers with\nminute descriptions of the horrors of crucifixion.[3]  Nothing would be\neasier, for it was an unspeakably awful form of death.  Cicero, who was\nwell acquainted with it, says: \"It was the most cruel and shameful of\nall punishments.\"  \"Let it never,\" he adds, \"come near the body of a\nRoman citizen; nay, not even near his thoughts or eyes or ears.\"  It\nwas the punishment reserved for slaves and for revolutionaries, whose\nend was intended to be marked by special infamy.\n\nThe cross was most probably of the form in which it is usually\nrepresented--an upright post crossed by a bar near the top.  There were\nother two forms--that of the letter T and that of the letter X--but, as\nthe accusation of Jesus is said to have been put up over His head,\nthere must have been a projection above the bar on which His arms were\noutstretched.  The arms were probably bound to the cross-beam, as\nwithout this the hands would have been torn through by the weight.  And\nfor a similar reason there was a piece of wood projecting from the\nmiddle of the upright beam, on which the body sat.  The feet were\neither nailed separately or crossed the one over the other, with a nail\nthrough both.  It is doubtful whether the body was affixed before or\nafter the cross was elevated and planted in the ground.  The head hung\nfree, so that the dying man could both see and speak to those about the\ncross.\n\nIn modern executions the greatest pains are taken to make death as\nnearly as possible instantaneous, and any bungling which prolongs the\nagony excites indignation and horror in the public mind.  But the most\nrevolting feature of death by crucifixion was that the torture was\ndeliberately prolonged.  The victim usually lingered a whole day,\nsometimes two or three days, still retaining consciousness; while the\nburning of the wounds in the hands and feet, the uneasiness of the\nunnatural position, the oppression of overcharged veins and, above all,\nthe intolerable thirst were constantly increasing.  Jesus did not\nsuffer so long; but He lingered for four or five hours.\n\nI will not, however, proceed further in describing the sickening\ndetails.  How far all these horrors may have been essential elements in\nHis sufferings it would be difficult to say.  Apart from the prophecies\ngoing before which had to be fulfilled, was it a matter of indifference\nwhat death He died?  Would it have served equally well if He had been\nhanged or beheaded or stoned?  We cannot tell.  Only, when we know the\nsecret of what His soul suffered, we can discern the fitness of the\nchoice of the most shameful and painful of all forms of death for His\nbody.[4]\n\nThe true sufferings of Christ were not physical, but internal.  Looking\non that Face, we see the shadow of a deeper woe than smarting wounds\nand raging thirst and a racking frame--the woe of slighted love, of a\nheart longing for fellowship but overwhelmed with hatred; the woe of\ninsult and wrong, and of unspeakable sorrow for the fate of those who\nwould not be saved.  Nor is even this the deepest shadow.  There was\nthen in the heart of the Redeemer a woe to which no human words are\nadequate.  He was dying for the sin of the world.  He had taken on\nHimself the guilt of mankind, and was now engaged in the final struggle\nto put it away and annihilate it.  On the cross was hanging not only\nthe body of flesh and blood of the Man Christ Jesus, but at the same\ntime His mystical body--that body of which He is the head and His\npeople are the members.  Through this body also the nails were driven,\nand on it death took its revenge.  His people died with Him unto sin,\nthat they might live for evermore.\n\nThis is the mystery, but it is also the glory of the scene.  Till He\nhung on it, the cross was the symbol of slavery and vulgar wickedness;\nbut He converted it into the symbol of heroism, self-sacrifice and\nsalvation.  It was only a wretched framework of coarse and\nblood-clotted beams, which it was a shame to touch; but since then the\nworld has gloried in it; it has been carved in every form of beauty and\nevery substance of price; it has been emblazoned on the flags of\nnations and engraved on the sceptres and diadems of kings.[5]  The\ncross was planted on Golgotha a dry, dead tree; but lo! it has\nblossomed like Aaron's rod; it has struck its roots deep down to the\nheart of the world, and sent its branches upwards, till to-day it fills\nthe earth, and the nations rest beneath its shadow and eat of its\npleasant fruits.[6]\n\n\nIII.\n\nAt length the ghastly preparations were completed; and in the greedy\neyes of Jewish hatred the Saviour, whom they had hunted to death with\nthe ferocity of bloodhounds, was exposed to full view.  But the first\ntriumphant glance of priests, Pharisees and populace met with a violent\ncheck; for above the Victim's head they saw something which cut them to\nthe heart.\n\nThe practice of affixing to the apparatus of execution a description of\nthe crime prevails in some countries to this day.  In the Life of\nGilmour of Mongolia there is a description of an execution which he\nwitnessed in China; and in the cart which conveyed the condemned man to\nthe scene of death a board was exhibited describing his misdeeds.  The\ncustom was a Roman one; and, besides, there was generally an official\nwho walked in front of the procession of death and proclaimed the\ncrimes of the condemned.  No mention, however, of such a functionary\nappears in the Gospels; nor does the inscription appear to have been\nvisible to all till it was affixed to the cross.  It was fastened to\nthe top of the upright beam; and Pilate made use of this opportunity to\npay out the Jews for the annoyance they had caused him.  He had parted\nfrom them in anger, for they had humiliated him; but he sent after them\nthat which should be a drop of bitterness in their cup of triumph.\nWhen they were still at his judgment-seat, his last blow in his\nencounter with them had been to pretend to be convinced that Jesus\nreally was their king.  This insult he now prolonged by wording the\ninscription thus: \"This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.\"  It was as\nmuch as to say, This is what becomes of a Jewish king; this is what the\nRomans do with him; the king of this nation is a slave, a crucified\ncriminal; and, if such be the king, what must the nation be whose king\nhe is?\n\nSo enraged were the Jews that they sent a deputation to the governor to\nentreat him to alter the words.  No doubt he was delighted to see them;\nfor their coming proved how thoroughly his sarcasm had gone home.  He\nonly laughed at their petition and, assuming the grand air of authority\nwhich became no man so well as a Roman, dismissed them with the words,\n\"What I have written I have written.\"\n\nThis looked like strength of will and character; but it was in reality\nonly a covering for weakness.  He had his will about the inscription--a\ntrifle; but they had their will about the crucifixion.  He was strong\nenough to browbeat them, but he was not strong enough to deny himself.\n\nYet, though the inscription of Pilate was in his own mind little more\nthan a revengeful jest, there was in it a Divine purpose.  \"What I have\nwritten I have written,\" he said; but, had he known, he might almost\nhave said, \"What I have written God has written.\"  Sometimes and at\nsome places the atmosphere is so charged and electric with the Divine\nthat inspiration alights and burns on everything; and never was this\nmore true than at the cross.  Pilate had already unconsciously been\nalmost a prophet when, pointing to Jesus, he said, \"Behold the Man\"--a\nword which still preaches to the centuries.  And now, after being a\nspeaking prophet, he becomes, as has been quaintly remarked, a writing\none too; for his pen was guided by a supernatural hand to indite the\nwords, \"This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.\"\n\nIt added greatly to the significance of the inscription that it was\nwritten in Hebrew and Greek and Latin.  What Pilate intended thereby\nwas to heighten the insult; he wished all the strangers present at the\nPassover to be able to read the inscription; for all of them who could\nread at all would know one of these three languages.  But Providence\nintended something else.  These are the three great languages of the\nancient world--the representative languages.  Hebrew is the tongue of\nreligion, Greek that of culture, Latin the language of law and\ngovernment; and Christ was declared King in them all.  On His head are\nmany crowns.  He is King in the religious sphere--the King of\nsalvation, holiness and love; He is King in the realm of culture--the\ntreasures of art, of song, of literature, of philosophy belong to Him,\nand shall yet be all poured at His feet; He is King in the political\nsphere--King of kings and Lord of lords, entitled to rule in the social\nrelationships, in trade and commerce, in all the activities of men.  We\nsee not yet, indeed, all things put under Him; but every day we see\nthem more and more in the process of being put under Him.  The name of\nJesus is travelling everywhere over the earth; thousands are learning\nto pronounce it; millions are ready to die for it.  And thus is the\nunconscious prophecy of Pilate still being fulfilled.\n\n\n\n[1] One Evangelist says gall, another myrrh, and on this difference\nharmonists and their antagonists have spent their time; but surely it\nis not worth while.\n\n[2] The distinction between the legitimate and the illegitimate use is\nnot very easy to draw; but there is an obvious difference between\ndestroying pain for an ulterior purpose and destroying it merely to\nsave the feeling of the sufferer.\n\n[3] On the details of crucifixion there is an extremely interesting and\nlearned excursus in Zoeckler's _Das Kreus Christi_ (Beilage III.).\nCicero's Verrine Orations contain a good deal that is valuable to a\nstudent of the Passion, especially in regard to scourging and\ncrucifixion.  Crucifixion was an extremely common form of punishment in\nthe ancient world; but \"the cross of the God-Man has put an end to the\npunishment of the crow.\"\n\n[4] Zoeckler maintains that crucifixion, while the most shameful, was\nnot absolutely the most painful form of death.\n\n[5] The appreciation of the significance of the Cross has gone on in\ntwo lines--the Artistic and the Doctrinal--both of which arc followed\nout with varied learning in Zoeckler's _Kreus Christi_.\n\nThe English reader may with great satisfaction trace the artistic\ndevelopment in Mrs. Jameson's _History of our Lord as exemplified in\nWorks of Art_, where the following scheme is given of the varieties of\ntreatment:--\n\n\"_Symbolical_, when the abstract personifications of the sun and moon,\nearth and ocean, are present.\n\n\"_Sacrificially symbolical_, when the Eucharistic cup is seen below the\nCross, or the pelican feeding her young is placed above it.\n\n\"_Simply doctrinal_, when the Virgin and St. John stand on each side,\nas solemn witnesses; or our Lord is drinking the cup, sometimes\nliterally so represented, given Him of the Father, while the lance\nopens the sacramental font.\n\n\"_Historically ideal_, as when the thieves are joined to the scene, and\nsorrowing angels throng the air.\n\n\"_Historically devotional_, as when the real features of the scene are\npreserved, and saints and devotees are introduced.\n\n\"_Legendary_, as when we see the Virgin fainting.\n\n\"_Allegorical and fantastic_, as when the tree is made the principal\nobject, with its branches terminating in patriarchs and prophets,\nvirtues and graces.\n\n\"_Realistic_, as when the mere event is rendered as through the eyes of\nan unenlightened looker-on.\n\n\"These and many other modes of conception account for the great\ndiversity in the treatment of this subject; a further variety being\ngiven by the combination of two or more of these modes of treatment\ntogether; for instance, the pelican may be seen above the Cross giving\nher life's blood for her offspring; angels in attitudes of despair,\nbewailing the Second Person of the Trinity; or, in an ideal sacramental\nsense, catching the blood from His wounds--the Jews below looking on,\nas they really did, with contemptuous gestures and hardened hearts; the\ncenturion acknowledging that this was really the Son of God, while the\ngroup of the fainting Virgin, supported by the Marys and St. John, adds\nlegend to symbolism, ideality, and history.\"\n\nIn the study of the doctrinal development nothing is so important as\nthe exegesis of the New Testament statements about the Cross; and this\nhas been done in a masterly way by Dr. Dale in his work on the\nAtonement.  What may be called the Philosophy of the Cross (to borrow a\nhappy phrase of McCheyne Edgar's) came late.  It is usually reckoned to\nhave commenced with Anselm; and since the Reformation every great\ntheologian has added his contribution.  Yet the work is by no means\ncompleted.  Indeed, at the present day there is no greater desideratum\nin theology than a philosophy of the Cross which would thoroughly\nsatisfy the religious mind.  Shallow theories abound; but the Church of\nChrist will never be able to rest in any theory which does not do\njustice, on the one hand, to the tremendously strong statements of\nScripture on the subject and, on the other, to her own consciousness of\nunique and infinite obligation to the dying Saviour.  Perhaps the most\nsatisfactory expression of the Christian consciousness on the subject\nis to be found in the hymns of the Church, from the Te Deum down\nthrough Scotua Erigena and Fulbert of Chartres to Gerhardt and Toplady.\nSee Schaff's _Christ in Song_.\n\nA third line of development might be traced--the Practical--in\nmartyrology, the history of missions, asceticism, and the like; and the\nspokesman of this branch of the truth is a Kempis, who, as Zoeckler\nsays, teaches his disciples to know poverty and humility as the roots\nof the tree of the Cross, labour and penitence as its bark,\nrighteousness and mercy as its two principal branches, truth and\ndoctrine as its precious leaves, chastity and obedience as its\nblossoms, temperance and discipline as its fragrance, and salvation and\neternal life as its glorious fruit.\n\n[6] When the Northern nations became Christian they transferred to the\nCross the nobler ideas embodied in the mystic tree Igdrasil; and one of\nthe commonest ideas of the mystical writers of the Middle Ages is the\nidentification of the Cross as both the true tree of life and the true\ntree of knowledge.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nTHE GROUPS ROUND THE CROSS\n\nIn the last chapter we saw the Son of Man nailed to the cursed tree.\nThere He hung for hours, exposed, helpless, but conscious, looking out\non the sea of faces assembled to behold His end.  On the occasion of an\nexecution a crowd gathers outside our jails merely to see the black\nflag run up which signals that the deed is done; and in the old days of\npublic executions such an event always attracted an enormous crowd.  No\ndoubt it was the same in Jerusalem.  When Jesus was put to death, it\nwas Passover time, and the city was filled with multitudes of\nstrangers, to whom any excitement was welcome.  Besides, the case of\nJesus had stirred both the capital and the entire country.[1]\n\nThe sight which the crowd had come to see was, we now know, the\ngreatest ever witnessed in the universe.  Angels and archangels were\nabsorbed in it; millions of men and women are looking back to it to-day\nand every day.  But what impressions did it make on those who saw it at\nthe time?  To ascertain this, let us look at three characteristic\ngroups near the cross, whose feelings were shared in varying degrees by\nmany around them.\n\n\nI.\n\nLook, first, at the group nearest the cross--that of the Roman soldiers.\n\nIn the Roman army it seems to have been a rule that, when executions\nwere carried out by soldiers, the effects of the criminals fell as\nperquisites to those who did the work.  Though many more soldiers were\nprobably present on this occasion, the actual details of fixing the\nbeam, handling the hammer and nails, hoisting the apparatus, and so\nforth, in the case of Jesus, fell to a quaternion of them.  To these\nfour, therefore, belonged all that was on Him; and they could at once\nproceed to divide the spoil, because in crucifixion the victim was\nstripped before being affixed to the cross--a trait of revolting\nshame.[2]  A large, loose upper garment, a head-dress perhaps, a girdle\nand a pair of sandals, and, last of all, an under garment, such as\nGalilean peasants were wont to wear, which was all of a piece and had\nperhaps been knitted for Him by the loving fingers of His mother--these\narticles became the booty of the soldiers.  They formed the entire\nproperty which Jesus had to leave, and the four soldiers were His\nheirs.  Yet this was He who bequeathed the vastest legacy that ever has\nbeen left by any human being--a legacy ample enough to enrich the whole\nworld.  Only it was a spiritual legacy--of wisdom, of influence, of\nexample.\n\nThe soldiers, their ghastly task over, sat down at the foot of the\ncross to divide their booty.  They obtained from it not only profit but\namusement; for, after dividing the articles as well as they could, they\nhad to cast lots about the last, which they could not divide.  One of\nthem fetched some dice out of his pocket--gambling was a favourite\npastime of Roman soldiers--and they settled the difficulty by a game.\nLook at them--chaffering, chattering, laughing; and, above their heads,\nnot a yard away, that Figure.  What a picture!  The Son of God atoning\nfor the sins of the world, whilst angels and glorified spirits crowd\nthe walls of the celestial city to look down at the spectacle; and,\nwithin a yard of His sacred Person, the soldiers, in absolute apathy,\ngambling for these poor shreds of clothing!  So much, and no more, did\nthey perceive of the stupendous drama they were within touch of.  For\nit is not only necessary to have a great sight to make an impression;\nquite as necessary is the seeing eye.  There are those to whom this\nearth is sacred because Jesus Christ has trodden it; the sky is sacred\nbecause it has bent above Him; history is sacred because His name is\ninscribed on it; the daily tasks of life are all sacred because they\ncan be done in His name.  But are there not multitudes, even in\nChristian lands, who live as if Christ had never lived, and to whom the\nquestion has never occurred, What difference does it make to us that\nJesus died in this world of which we are inhabitants?\n\n\nII.\n\nLook now at a second group, much more numerous than the first,\nconsisting of the members of the Sanhedrim.\n\nAfter condemning Jesus in their own court, they had accompanied Him\nthrough stage after stage of His civil trial, until at last they\nsecured His condemnation at the tribunal of Pilate.  When at last He\nwas handed over to the executioners, it might have been expected that\nthey would have been tired of the lengthy proceedings and glad to\nescape from the scene.  But their passions had been thoroughly aroused,\nand their thirst for revenge was so deep that they could not allow the\nsoldiers to do their own work, but, forgetful of dignity, accompanied\nthe crowd to the place of execution and stayed to glut their eyes with\nthe spectacle of their Victim's sufferings.  Even after He was lifted\nup on the tree, they could not keep their tongues off Him or give Him\nthe dying man's privilege of peace; but, losing all sense of propriety,\nthey made insulting gestures and poured on Him insulting cries.\nNaturally the crowd followed their example, till not only the soldiers\ntook it up, but even the thieves who were crucified with Him joined in.\nSo that the crowd under His eyes became a sea of scorn, whose angry\nwaves dashed up about His cross.\n\nThe line taken was to recall all the great names which He had claimed,\nor which had been applied to Him, and to contrast them with the\nposition in which He now was.  \"The Son of God,\" \"The Chosen of God,\"\n\"The King of Israel,\" \"The Christ,\" \"The King of the Jews,\" \"Thou that\ndestroyest the temple and buildest it in three days\"--with these\nepithets they pelted Him in every tone of mockery.  They challenged Him\nto come down from the cross and they would believe Him.  This was their\nmost persistent cry--He had saved others, but Himself He could not\nsave.  They had always maintained that it was by the power of devils He\nwrought His miracles; but these evil powers are dangerous to palter\nwith; they may lend their virtue for a time, but at last they appear to\ndemand their price; at the most critical moment they leave him who has\ntrusted them in the lurch.  This was what had happened to Jesus; now at\nlast the wizard's wand was broken and He could charm no more.\n\nAs they thus poured out the gall which had long been accumulating in\ntheir hearts, they did not notice that, in the multitude of their\nwords, they were using the very terms attributed in the twenty-second\nPsalm to the enemies of the holy Sufferer: \"He trusted in God; let Him\ndeliver Him now, if He will have Him; for He said, I am the Son of\nGod.\"  Cold-blooded historians have doubted whether they could have\nmade such a slip without noticing it; but, strange to say, there is an\nexact modern parallel.  When one of the Swiss reformers was pleading\nbefore the papal court, the president interrupted him with the very\nwords of Caiaphas to the Sanhedrim: \"He hath spoken blasphemy: what\nfurther need have we of witnesses?  What think ye?\" and they all\nanswered, \"He is worthy of death\"; without noticing, till he reminded\nthem, that they were quoting Scripture.[3]\n\nJesus might have answered the cries of His enemies; because to one\nhanging on the cross it was possible not only to hear and see, but also\nto speak.  However, He answered never a word--\"when He was reviled, He\nreviled not again,\" \"as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so He\nopened not His mouth.\"  This was not, however, because He did not feel.\nMore painful than the nails which pierced His body were these missiles\nof malice shot at His mind.  The human heart laid bare its basest and\nblackest depths under His very eyes; and all its foul scum was poured\nover Him.\n\nWas it a temptation to Him, one wonders, when so often from every side\nthe invitation was given Him to come down from the cross?  This was\nsubstantially the same temptation as was addressed to Him at the\nopening of His career, when Satan urged Him to cast Himself from the\npinnacle of the temple.  It had haunted Him in various forms all His\nlife through.  And now it assails Him once more at the crisis of His\nfate.  They thought His patience was impotence and His silence a\nconfession of defeat.  Why should He not let His glory blaze forth and\nconfound them?  How easily He could have done it!  Yet no; He could\nnot.  They were quite right when they said, \"He saved others, Himself\nHe cannot save.\"  Had He saved Himself, He would not have been the\nSaviour.  Yet the power that kept Him on the cross was a far mightier\none than would have been necessary to leave it.  It was not by the\nnails through His hands and feet that He was held, nor by the ropes\nwith which His arms were bound, nor by the soldiers watching Him; no,\nbut by invisible bands--by the cords of redeeming love and by the\nconstraint of a Divine design.\n\nOf this, however, His enemies had no inkling.  They were judging Him by\nthe most heathenish standard.  They had no idea of power but a material\none, or of glory but a selfish one.  The Saviour of their fancy was a\npolitical deliverer, not One who could save from sin.  And to this day\nChrist hears the cry from more sides than one, \"Come down from the\ncross, and we will believe Thee.\"  It comes from the spiritually\nshallow, who have no sense of their own unworthiness or of the majesty\nand the rights of a holy God.  They do not understand a theology of sin\nand punishment, of atonement and redemption; and all the deep\nsignificance of His death has to be taken out of Christianity before\nthey will believe it.  It comes, too, from the morally cowardly and the\nworldly-minded, who desire a religion without the cross.  If\nChristianity were only a creed to believe, or a worship in whose\ncelebration the aesthetic faculty might take delight, or a private path\nby which a man might pilgrim to heaven unnoticed, they would be\ndelighted to believe it; but, because it means confessing Christ and\nbearing His reproach, mingling with His despised people and supporting\nHis cause, they will have none of it.  None can honour the cross of\nChrist who have not felt the humiliation of guilt and entered into the\nsecret of humility.\n\n\nIII.\n\nLet our attention now be directed to a third group.  And again it is a\ncomparatively small one.\n\nAs the eyes of Jesus wandered to and fro over the sea of faces upturned\nto His own--faces charged with every form and degree of hatred and\ncontempt--was there no point on which they could linger with\nsatisfaction?  Yes, among the thorns there was one lily.  On the\noutskirts of the crowd there stood a group of His acquaintances and of\nthe women who followed Him from Galilee and ministered unto Him.  Let\nus enumerate their honoured names, as far as they have been\npreserved--\"Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James and Joses\n[Transcriber's note: Joseph?], and the mother of Zebedee's children.\"\n\nTheir position, \"afar off,\" probably indicates that they were in a\nstate of fear.  It was not safe to be too closely identified with One\nagainst whom the authorities cherished such implacable feelings; and\nthey may have been quite right not to make themselves too conspicuous.\nApart from the danger to which they might be exposed, they had a whole\ntempest of trouble in their hearts.  As yet they knew not the\nScriptures that He must rise again from the dead; and this collapse of\nthe cause in which they had embarked their all for time and for\neternity was a bewildering calamity.  They had trusted that it had been\nHe who should have redeemed Israel, and that He would live and reign\nover the redeemed race forever.  And there He was, perishing before\ntheir eyes in defeat and shame.  Their faith was at the very last ebb.\nOr say, rather, it survived only in the form of love.  Bewildered as\nwere their ideas, He had as firm a hold as ever on their hearts.  They\nloved Him; they suffered with Him; they could have died for Him.\n\nMay we not believe that the eyes of Jesus, as long as they were able to\nsee, turned often away from the brutal soldiers beneath His feet, and\nfrom the sea of distorted faces, to this distant group?  In some\nrespects, indeed, their aspect might be more trying to Him than even\nthe hateful faces of His enemies; for sympathy will sometimes break\ndown a strong heart that is proof against opposition.  Yet this\nneighbourly sympathy and womanly love must, on the whole, have been a\nprofound comfort and support.  He was sustained all through His\nsufferings by the thought of the multitudes without number who would\nbenefit from what He was enduring; but here before His eyes was an\nearnest of His reward; and in them He saw of the travail of His soul\nand was satisfied.\n\n\nIn these three groups, then, we see three predominant states of\nmind--in the soldiers apathy, in the Sanhedrim antipathy, in the\nGalileans sympathy.\n\nHas it ever occurred to you to ask in which group you would have been\nhad you been there?  This is a searching question.  Of course it is\neasy now to say which were right and which were wrong.  It is always\neasy to admire the heroes and the causes of bygone days; but it is\npossible to do so and yet be apathetic or antipathetic to those of our\nown.  Even the Roman soldiers at the foot of the cross admired Romulus\nand Cincinnatus and Brutus, though they had no feeling for One at their\nside greater than these.  The Jews who were mocking Christ admired\nMoses and Samuel and Isaiah.  Christ is still bearing His cross through\nthe streets of the world, and is hanging exposed to contempt and\nill-treatment; and it is possible to admire the Christ of the Bible and\nyet be persecuting and opposing the Christ of our own century.  The\nChrist of to-day signifies the truth, the cause, the principles of\nChrist, and the men and women in whom these are embodied.  We are\neither helping or hindering those movements on which Christ has set His\nheart; often, without being aware of it, men choose their sides and\nplan and speak and act either for or against Christ.  This is the\nPassion of our own day, the Golgotha of our own city.\n\nBut it comes nearer than this.  The living Christ Himself is still in\nthe world: He comes to every door; His Spirit strives with every soul.\nAnd He still meets with these three kinds of treatment--apathy,\nantipathy, sympathy.  As a magnet, passing over a heap of objects,\ncauses those to move and spring out of the heap which are akin to\nitself, so redeeming love, as revealed in Christ, passing over the\nsurface of mankind century after century, has the power so to move\nhuman hearts to the very depths that, kindling with admiration and\ndesire, they spring up and attach themselves to Him.  This response may\nbe called faith, or love, or spirituality, or what you please; but it\nis the very test and touchstone of eternity, for it is separating men\nand women from the mass and making them one for ever with the life and\nthe love of God.\n\n\n\n[1] Keim strangely surmises that there was no great crowd; but this is\nimpossible.\n\n[2] As, however, the Jews would have objected to this, Edersheim\nargues--but not convincingly--that there must have been at least a\nslight covering.\n\n[3] Sueskind, _Passionsschule_, _in loc_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nTHE FIRST WORD FROM THE CROSS[1]\n\nIn the last chapter we saw the impressions made by the crucifixion on\nthe different groups round the cross.  On the soldiers, who did the\ndeed, it made no impression at all; they were absolutely blind to the\nwonder and glory of the scene in which they were taking part.  On the\nmembers of the Sanhedrim, and the others who thought with them, it had\nan extraordinary effect: the perfect revelation of goodness and\nspiritual beauty threw them into convulsions of angry opposition.  Even\nthe group of the friends of Jesus, standing afar off, saw only a very\nlittle way into the meaning of what was taking place before their eyes:\nthe victory of their Master over sin, death and the world appeared to\nthem a tragic defeat.  So true is it, as I said, that, when something\ngrand is to be seen, there is required not only the object but the\nseeing eye.  The image in a mirror depends not only on the object\nreflected but on the quality and the configuration of the glass.\n\nWe wish, however, to see the scene enacted on Calvary in its true\nshape; and where shall we look?  There was one mind there in which it\nwas mirrored with perfect fidelity.  If we could see the image of the\ncrucifixion in the mind of Jesus Himself, this would reveal its true\nmeaning.\n\nBut in what way can we ascertain how it appeared to Him, as from His\npainful station He looked forth upon the scene?  The answer is to be\nfound in the sentences which he uttered, as He hung, before His senses\nwere stifled by the mists of death.  These are like windows through\nwhich we can see what was passing in His mind.  They are mere\nfragments, of course; yet they are charged with eternal significance.\nWords are always photographs, more or less true, of the mind which\nutters them; these were the truest words ever uttered, and He who\nuttered them stamped on them the image of Himself.\n\nThey are seven in number, and it will be to our advantage to linger on\nthem; they are too precious to be taken summarily.  The sayings of the\ndying are always impressive.  We never forget the deathbed utterances\nof a parent or a bosom friend; the last words of famous men are\ntreasured for ever.  In Scripture Jacob, Joseph, Moses, and other\npatriarchal men are represented as having risen on their deathbeds far\nabove themselves and spoken in the tones of a higher world; and in all\nnations a prophetic importance has been attached to the words of the\ndying.  Now, these are the dying words of Christ; and, as all His words\nare like gold to silver in comparison with those of other men, so\nthese, in comparison with the rest of His words, are as diamonds to\ngold.\n\nIn the First Word three things are noticeable--the Invocation, the\nPetition, and the Argument.\n\n\nI.\n\nIt was not unusual for crucified persons to speak on the cross; but\ntheir words usually consisted of wild expressions of pain or bootless\nentreaties for release, curses against God or imprecations on those who\nhad inflicted their sufferings.  When Jesus had recovered from the\nswooning shock occasioned by the driving of the nails into His hands\nand feet, His first utterance was a prayer, and His first word \"Father.\"\n\nWas it not an unintentional condemnation of those who had affixed Him\nthere?  It was in the name of religion they had acted and in the name\nof God; but which of them was thus impregnated through and through with\nreligion? which of them could pretend to a communion with God so close\nand habitual?  Evidently it was because prayer was the natural language\nof Jesus that at this moment it leapt to His lips.  It is a suspicious\ncase when in any trial, especially an ecclesiastical one, the condemned\nis obviously a better man than the judges.\n\nThe word \"Father,\" further, proved that the faith of Jesus was unshaken\nby all through which He had passed and by that which He was now\nenduring.  When righteousness is trampled underfoot and wrong is\ntriumphant, faith is tempted to ask if there is really a God, loving\nand wise, seated on the throne of the universe, or whether, on the\ncontrary, all is the play of chance.  When prosperity is turned\nsuddenly into adversity and the structure of the plans and hopes of a\nlife is tumbled in confusion to the ground, even the child of God is\napt to kick against the Divine will.  Great saints have been driven, by\nthe pressure of pain and disappointment, to challenge God's\nrighteousness in words which it is not lawful for a man to utter.  But,\nwhen the fortunes of Jesus were at the blackest, when He was baited by\na raging pack of wolf-like enemies, and when He was sinking into\nunplumbed abysses of pain and desertion, He still said \"Father.\"\n\nIt was the apotheosis of faith, and to all time it will serve as an\nexample; because it was gloriously vindicated.  If ever the hand of the\nCreator seemed to be withdrawn from the rudder of the universe, and the\ncourse of human affairs to be driving down headlong into the gulf of\nconfusion, it was when He who was the embodiment of moral beauty and\nworth had to die a shameful death as a malefactor.  Could good by any\npossibility rise out of such an abyss of wrong?  The salvation of the\nworld came out of it; all that is noblest in history came out of it.\nThis is the supreme lesson to God's children never to despair.  All may\nbe dark; everything may seem going to rack and ruin; evil may seem to\nbe enthroned on the seat of God; yet God liveth; He sits above the\ntumult of the present; and He will bring forth the dawn from the womb\nof the darkness.\n\n\nII.\n\nThe prayer which followed this invocation was still more remarkable: it\nwas a prayer for the pardon of His enemies.\n\nIn the foregoing pages we have seen to what kind of treatment He was\nsubjected from the arrest onwards--how the minions of authority struck\nand insulted Him, how the high priests twisted the forms of law to\nensnare Him, how Herod disdained Him, how Pilate played fast and loose\nwith His interests, how the mob howled at Him.  Our hearts have burned\nwith indignation as one depth of baseness has opened beneath another;\nand we have been unable to refrain from using hard language.  The\ncomment of Jesus on it all was, \"Father, forgive them.\"\n\nLong ago, indeed, He had taught men, \"Love your enemies, bless them\nthat curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which\ndespitefully use you and persecute you.\"  But this morality of the\nSermon on the Mount had been considered, as the world still inclines to\nconsider it, a beautiful dream.  There have been many teachers who have\nsaid such beautiful things; but what a difference there is between\npreaching and practice!  When you have been delighted with the\nsentiments of an author, it is frequently well that you know no more\nabout him; because, if you chance to become acquainted with the facts\nof his own life, you experience a painful disillusionment.  Have not\nstudents even of our own English literature in very recent times\nlearned to be afraid to read the biographies of literary men, lest the\nbeautiful structure of sentiments which they have gathered from their\nwritings should be shattered by the truth about themselves?  But Jesus\npractised what He taught.  He is the one teacher of mankind in whom the\nsentiment and the act completely coincide.  His doctrine was the very\nhighest: too high it often seems for this world.  But how much more\npractical it appears when we see it in action.  He proved that it can\nbe realised on earth when on the cross He prayed, \"Father, forgive\nthem.\"\n\nFew of us, perhaps, know what it is to forgive.  We have never been\ndeeply wronged; very likely many of us have not a single enemy in the\nworld.  But those who have are aware how difficult it is; perhaps\nnothing else is more difficult.  Revenge is one of the sweetest\nsatisfactions to the natural heart.  The law of the ancient world was,\nat least in practice, \"Thou shalt love thy neighbour and hate thine\nenemy.\"  Even saints, in the Old Testament, curse those who have\npersecuted and wronged them in terms of uncompromising severity.  Had\nJesus followed these and, as soon as He was able to speak, uttered to\nHis Father a complaint in which the conduct of His enemies was branded\nin the terms it deserved, who would have ventured to find fault with\nHim?  Even in that there might have been a revelation of God; because\nin the Divine nature there is a fire of wrath against sin.  But how\npoor would such a revelation have been in comparison with the one which\nHe now made.  All His life He was revealing God; but now His time was\nshort; and it was the very highest in God He had to make known.\n\nIn this word Christ revealed Himself; but at the same time He revealed\nthe Father.  All His life long the Father was in Him, but on the cross\nthe divine life and character flamed in His human nature like the fire\nin the burning bush.  It uttered itself in the word; \"Father, forgive\nthem\"; and what did it tell?  It told that God is love.\n\n\nIII.\n\nThe expiring Saviour backed up His prayer for the forgiveness of His\nenemies with the argument--\"For they know not what they do.\"\n\nThis allows us to see further still into the divine depths of His love.\nThe injured are generally alive only to their own side of the case; and\nthey see only those circumstances which tend to place the conduct of\nthe opposite party in the worst light.  But at the moment when the pain\ninflicted by His enemies was at the worst Jesus was seeking excuses for\ntheir conduct.\n\nThe question has been raised how far the excuse which He made on their\nbehalf applied.  Could it be said of them all that they knew not what\nthey were doing?  Did not Judas know? did not the high priests know?\ndid not Herod know?  Apparently it was primarily to the soldiers who\ndid the actual work of crucifixion that Jesus referred; because it was\nin the very midst of their work that the words were uttered, as may be\nseen in the narrative of St. Luke.  The soldiers, the rude uninstructed\ninstruments of the government, were the least guilty among the\nassailants of Jesus.  Next to them, perhaps, came Pilate; and there\nwere different stages and degrees down, through Herod and the\nSanhedrim, to the unspeakable baseness of Judas.  But St. Peter, in the\nbeginning of Acts, expressly extends the plea of ignorance so far as to\ncover even the Sanhedrists--\"And now, brethren, I wot that through\nignorance ye did it, as did also your rulers\"--and who will believe\nthat the heart of the Saviour was less comprehensive than that of the\ndisciple?\n\nLet us not be putting limits to the divine mercy.  It is true of every\nsinner, in some measure, that he knows not what he does.  And to a true\npenitent, as he approaches the throne of mercy, it is a great\nconsolation to be assured that this plea will be allowed.  Penitent St.\nPaul was comforted with it: \"God had mercy on me, because I did it\nignorantly in unbelief.\"  God knows all our weakness and blindness; men\nwill not make allowance for it or even understand it; but He will\nunderstand it all, if we come to hide our guilty head in His bosom.\n\nOf course this blessed truth may be perverted by an impenitent heart to\nits own undoing.  There is no falser notion than that expressed in the\nFrench proverb, _Tout comprendre est tout pardonner_ (To understand\neverything is to pardon everything), for it means that man is the mere\ncreature of circumstances and has no real responsibility for his\nactions.  How far our Lord was from this way of thinking is shown by\nthe fact that He said, \"Forgive them.\"  He knew that they needed\nforgiveness; which implies that they were guilty.  Indeed, it was His\nvivid apprehension of the danger to which their guilt exposed them that\nmade Him forget His own sufferings and fling Himself between them and\ntheir fate.\n\n\nIt has been asked, Was this prayer answered?  were the crucifiers of\nJesus forgiven?  To this it may be replied that a prayer for\nforgiveness cannot be answered without the co-operation of those prayed\nfor.  Unless they repent and seek pardon for themselves, how can God\nforgive them?  The prayer of Jesus, therefore, meant that time should\nbe granted them for repentance, and that they should be plied with\nprovidences and with preaching, to awaken their consciences.  To punish\nso appalling a crime as the crucifixion of His Son, God might have\ncaused the earth to open on the spot and swallow the sinners up.  But\nno judgment of the kind took place.  As Jesus had predicted, Jerusalem\nperished in indescribable throes of agony; but not till forty years\nafter His death; and in this interval the pouring out of the Spirit at\nPentecost took place, and the apostles began their preaching of the\nkingdom at Jerusalem, urgently calling the nation to repentance.  Nor\nwas their work in vain; for thousands believed.  Even before the scene\nof the crucifixion terminated, one of the two thieves crucified along\nwith Jesus, who had taken part in reviling Him, was converted; and the\ncenturion who superintended the execution confessed Him as the Son of\nGod.  After all was over, multitudes who had beheld the sight went away\nsmiting their breasts.[2]  We have no reason to doubt, therefore, that\neven in this direct sense the prayer received an abundant answer.\n\nBut this was a prayer of a kind which may also be answered indirectly.\nBesides the effect which prayer has in procuring specific petitions, it\nacts reflexly on the spirit of the person who offers it, calming,\nsweetening, invigorating.  Although some erroneously regard this as the\nonly real answer that prayer can receive, denying that God can be moved\nby our petitions, yet we, who believe that more things are wrought by\nprayer, ought not to overlook this.  By praying that His enemies might\nbe forgiven, Jesus was enabled to drive back the spirits of anger and\nrevenge which tried to force their way into His bosom, and preserved\nundisturbed the serenity of His soul.  To ask God to forgive them was\nthe triumphant ending of His own effort to forgive; and it is\nimpossible to forgive without a delicious sense of deliverance and\npeace being shed abroad in the forgiving heart.\n\nMay we not add that part of the answer to this prayer has been its\nrepetition age after age by the persecuted and wronged?  St. Stephen\nled the way, in the article of death praying meekly after the fashion\nof his Master, \"Lord, lay not this sin to their charge.\"  Hundreds have\nfollowed.  And day by day this prayer is diminishing the sum of\nbitterness and increasing the amount of love in the world.\n\n\n\n[1] \"Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.\"\n\n[2] Luke xxiii. 48.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nTHE SECOND WORD FROM THE CROSS[1]\n\n\nI.\n\nIt is not said by whose arrangement it was that Jesus was hung between\nthe two thieves.  It may have been done by order of Pilate, who wished\nin this way to add point to the witticism which he had put into the\ninscription above the cross; or the arrangement may have been due to\nthe Jewish officials, who followed their Victim to Golgotha and may\nhave persuaded the soldiers to give Him this place, as an additional\ninsult; or the soldiers may have done it of their own accord, simply\nbecause He was obviously the most notable of their prisoners.\n\nThe likelihood is that there was malice in it.  Yet there was a divine\npurpose behind the wrath of man.  Again and again one has to remark\nhow, in these last scenes, every shred of action and every random word\naimed at Jesus for the purpose of injuring and dishonouring Him so\nturned, instead, to honour, that in our eyes, now looking back, it\nshines on Him like a star.  As a fire catches the lump of dirty coal or\nclot of filth that is flung into it, and converts it into a mass of\nlight, so at this time there was that about Christ which transmuted the\nvery insults hurled at Him into honours and charged even the incidents\nof His crucifixion which were most trivial in themselves with\nunspeakable meaning.  The crown of thorns, the purple robe, Pilate's\nEcce Homo, the inscription on the cross, the savage cries of the\npassers-by and other similar incidents, full at the time of malice, are\nnow memories treasured by all who love the Saviour.\n\nSo His position between the thieves was ordained by God as well as by\nmen.  It was His right position.  They had called Him long before \"a\nfriend of publicans and sinners;\" and now, by crucifying Him between\nthe thieves, they put the same idea into action.  As, however, that\nnickname has become a title of everlasting honour, so has this\ninsulting deed.  Jesus came to the world to identify Himself with\nsinners; their cause was His, and He wrapped up His fate with theirs;\nHe had lived among them, and it was meet that He should die among them.\nTo this day He is in the midst of them; and the strange behaviour of\nthe two between whom He hung that day was a prefigurement of what has\nbeen happening every day since: some sinners have believed on Him and\nbeen saved, while others have believed not: to the one His gospel is a\nsavour of life unto life, to the other it is a savour of death unto\ndeath.  So it is to be till the end; and on the great day when the\nwhole history of this world shall be wound up He will still be in the\nmidst; and the penitent will be on the one hand and the impenitent on\nthe other.\n\nBut it was not in one way only that the divine wisdom overruled for\nhigh ends of its own the humiliating circumstance that Jesus was thus\nreckoned with the transgressors.  It gave Him an opportunity of\nillustrating, at the very last moment, both the magnanimity of His own\ncharacter and the nature of His mission; and at the moment when He\nneeded it most it supplied Him with a cup of what had always been to\nHim the supreme joy of living--the bliss of doing good.  As the parable\nof the Prodigal Son is an epitome of the whole teaching of Christ, so\nis the salvation of the thief on the cross the life of Christ in\nminiature.\n\n\nII.\n\nBoth thieves appear to have joined in taunting Jesus, in imitation of\nthe Sanhedrists.  This has, indeed, been doubted or denied by those, of\nwhom there have been many, who have experienced difficulty in\nunderstanding how so complete a revolution as the conversion of the\npenitent thief could take place in so short a time.  Two of the\nEvangelists say that those crucified with Him reviled Him; but it is\njust possible grammatically to explain this as referring only to one of\nthem; because sometimes an action is attributed to a class, though only\none person of the class has done it.[2]  The natural interpretation,\nhowever, is that both did it.  It is likely enough, indeed, that the\none who did not repent began it, and that the other joined in, less of\nhis own accord than in imitation of his reckless associate.  Very\nprobably this was not the first time that he had been dragged into sin\nby the same attraction.  His companion may have been his evil genius,\nwho had ruined his life and brought him at last to this shameful end.\n\nIt was an awful extreme of wickedness to be engaged, so near their own\nend, in hurling opprobrious words at a fellow-sufferer.  Of course, the\nvery excess of pain made crucified persons reckless; and to be engaged\ndoing anything, especially anything violent, helped to make them forget\ntheir agony.  It mattered not who or what was the object of attack;\nthey were reduced to the condition of tortured animals; and the trapped\nbrute bites at anything which approaches it.  This was the state of the\nimpenitent thief.  But the other drew back from his companion with\nhorror.  The very excess of sin overleaped itself; and for the first\ntime he saw how vile a wretch he was.  This was brought home to him by\nthe contrast of the patience and peace of Jesus.  His brutal companion\nhad hitherto been his ideal; but now he perceives how base is his\nferocious courage in comparison with the strength of Christ's serene\nendurance.\n\nThe desire to explain away the suddenness of the conversion has led to\nall sorts of conjectures as to the possibility of previous meetings\nbetween the thief and Christ.  It is quite legitimate to dwell on what\nhe had seen of the behaviour of Jesus from the moment when they were\nbrought into contact in the crucifixion.  He had heard Him pray for the\nforgiveness of His enemies; he had witnessed His demeanour on the way\nto Calvary and heard His words to the daughters of Jerusalem; the very\ncries of His enemies round the cross, when they cast in His teeth the\ntitles which He had claimed or which had been attributed to Him,\ninformed him what were the pretensions of Jesus; perhaps he may have\nwitnessed and heard the trial before Pilate.  But, when we attempt to\ngo further back, we have nothing solid to found upon.  Had he ever\nheard Jesus preach?  Had he witnessed any of His miracles?  How much\ndid he know of the nature of His Kingdom, of which he spoke?  Guesses\nmay be made in answer to such questions, but they cannot be\nauthenticated.  I should be inclined with more confidence to look\nfurther back still.  He may have come out of a pious home; he may have\nbeen a prodigal led astray by companions, and especially by the strong\ncompanion with whom he was now associated.  As there was a weeping\nmother at the foot of the cross of Jesus, there may have been a\nheart-broken parent at the foot of that other cross also, whose prayers\nwere yet going to be answered in a way surpassing her wildest hopes.\n\nThe question of the possibility of sudden conversion is generally\nargued with too much excitement on both sides to allow the facts to be\nrecognised.  Among us there may, in one sense, be said to be no such\nthing.  Suppose anyone reading this page, who may know that he has not\nyet with his whole heart and soul turned to God, were to do so before\nturning the next leaf, would this be a sudden conversion?  Why, the\npreparation for it has been going on for years.  What has been the\nintention of all the religious instruction which you have received from\nyour childhood, of the prayers offered on your behalf of the appeals\nwhich have moved you, of the strivings of God's Spirit, but to lead up\nto this result?  Though your conversion were to take place this very\nhour, it would only be the last moment of a process which has gone on\nfor years.  Yet in a sense it would be sudden.  And why should it not?\nWhat reason is there why your return to God should be further\npostponed?  There are two experiences in religion which require to be\ncarefully distinguished: there is the making of religious impressions\non us by others from the outside--through instruction, example, appeal\nand the like; and there is the rise of religion within ourselves, when\nwe turn round upon our impressions and make them our own.  The former\nexperience is long and slow, but the latter may be very sudden; and a\nvery little thing may bring it about.\n\nAnother way in which it is possible to minimise the greatness of this\nconversion is by questioning the guilt of the man.[3]  When he is\ncalled a thief, the name suggests a very common and degraded sinner;\nbut it is pointed out that \"robber\" would be the correct name, and that\nprobably he and his companion may have been revolutionaries, whose\nopposition to the Roman rule had driven them outside the pale of\nsociety, where, to win a subsistence, they had to resort to the trade\nof highwaymen; but in that country, tyrannised over by a despotic\nforeign power, those who attempted to raise the standard of revolt were\nsometimes far from ignoble characters, though the necessities of their\nposition betrayed them into acts of violence.  There is truth in this;\nand the penitent thief may not have been a sinner above all men.  But\nhis own words to his companion, \"We receive the due reward of our\ndeeds,\" point the other way.  His memory was stained with acts for\nwhich he acknowledged that death was the lawful penalty.  In short,\nthere is no reason to doubt either that he was a great sinner or that\nhe was suddenly changed.  And therefore his example will always be an\nencouragement to the worst of sinners when they repent.  It is common\nfor penitents to be afraid to come to God, because their sins have been\ntoo great to be forgiven; but those who are encouraging them can point\nto cases like Manasseh, and Mary Magdalene, and the thief on the cross,\nand assure them that the mercy which sufficed for these is sufficient\nfor all: \"The blood of Jesus Christ, God's Son, cleanseth us from all\nsin.\"\n\nThe fear of those who endeavour to minimise the wonderfulness of this\nconversion is lest, if it be allowed that a man of the worst character\ncould undergo so complete a change in so short a time on the very verge\nof the other world, men may be induced to put off their own salvation\nin the hope of availing themselves of a death-bed repentance.  This is\na just fear; and the grace of God has undoubtedly been sometimes thus\nabused.  But it is an utter abuse.  Those who allow themselves to be\ndeceived with this reasoning believe that they can at any moment\ncommand penitence and faith, and that all the other feelings of\nreligion will come to them whenever they choose to summon them.  But\ndoes experience lead us to believe this?  Are not the occasions, on the\ncontrary, very rare when religion really moves irreligious men\n\n  \"We cannot kindle when we will\n    The fire that in the soul resides:\n  The spirit breatheth and is still--\n    In mystery the soul abides.\"\n\nNor is it by any means a uniform experience that the approach of death\nawakens religious anxiety.  The other thief is a solemn warning.\nThough face to face with death and in such close proximity to Jesus, he\nwas only hardened and rendered more reckless than ever.  And this is\nfar more likely to be the fate of anyone who deliberately quenches the\nSpirit because he is trusting to a death-bed repentance.\n\nYet we will not allow the possible abuse of the truth to rob us of the\nglorious testimony contained in this incident to the grace of God.  We\nset no limits to the invitation of the Saviour, \"Him that cometh unto\nMe I will in no wise cast out.\"  However late a sinner may be in\ncoming, and however little time he may have in which to come, let him\nonly come and he will not be cast out.  There is no more critical test\nof theologies and theologians than the question what message they have\nto a dying person whose sins are unforgiven.  If the salvation which a\npreacher has to offer is only a course of moral improvement, what can\nhe have to say in such a place?  We may be sure that our gospel is not\nthe gospel of Him who comforted the penitent thief, unless we are able\nto offer even to a dying sinner a salvation immediate, joyful and\ncomplete.\n\nHow complete the revolution was in the penitent thief is shown by his\nown words.  St. Paul in one place sums up Christianity in two\nthings--repentance towards God and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.  And\nboth of these we see in this penitent's words.  His repentance towards\nGod is brought out by what he said to his companion.  \"Dost thou not\nfear God?\" he asked.  He had himself forgotten God, no doubt, and put\nHim far away in the sinful past.  But now God was near, and in the\nlight of God he saw his own sinfulness.  He confessed it, doing so not\nonly in his secret mind but audibly.  Thus he separated himself from\nit, as he did also from the companion who had led him astray, when he\nwould not come with him on the path of penitence.  Not less distinctly\ndo His words to the Saviour manifest his faith in the Lord Jesus\nChrist.  They are simple and humble: all he dared to expect was that,\nwhen Christ came into His kingdom, He would remember him.  But they\nrecognised the glory of Christ and expressed trust in Him.  At the\nmoment when the religious teachers of the nations thought that they had\nfor ever destroyed Christ's claims, and even His own disciples had\nforsaken Him, this poor dying sinner believed in Him.  \"How clear,\"\nexclaims Calvin, \"was the vision of the eyes which could thus see in\ndeath life, in ruin majesty, in shame glory, in defeat victory, in\nslavery royalty.  I question if ever since the world began there has\nbeen so bright an example of faith.\"  Luther is no less laudatory.\n\"This,\" says he, \"was for Christ a comfort like that supplied to Him by\nthe angel in the garden.  God could not allow His Son to be destitute\nof subjects, and now His Church survived in this one man.  Where the\nfaith of St. Peter broke off, the faith of the penitent thief\ncommenced.\"  And another[4] asks, \"Did ever the new birth take place in\nso strange a cradle?\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nIt is worth noting that it was not by words that Jesus converted this\nman.  He did not address the penitent thief at all till the thief spoke\nto Him.  The work of conviction was done before He uttered a word.  Yet\nit was His work; and how did He do it?  As St. Peter exhorted godly\nwives to convert their heathen husbands, when he wrote to them,\n\"Likewise, ye wives, be in subjection to your own husbands, that, if\nany obey not the Word, they also may, without the Word, be won by the\nconversation (_i.e._, behaviour) of the wives, while they behold your\nchaste conversation coupled with fear.\"  It was by the impression of\nHis patience, His innocence, His peace, and His magnanimity, that Jesus\nconverted the man; and herein He has left us an example that we should\nfollow in His steps.\n\nBut His words, when He did speak, added immensely to the impression.\nThey were few, but every one of them expressed the Saviour.\n\nThe robber was thinking of some date far off when Christ might\nintervene in his behalf, but Christ says, \"To-day.\"  This was a\nprophecy that he would die that day, and not be allowed to linger for\ndays, as crucified persons often were; and this was fulfilled.  But it\nwas, besides, a promise that as soon as death launched him out of time\ninto eternity, Christ would be waiting there to receive him.  \"To-day\nthou shalt be with Me.\"  All heaven is in these two last words.  What\ndo we really know of heaven, what do we wish to know, except that it is\nto be \"with Christ\"?  Yet a little more was added--\"in Paradise.\"  Some\nhave thought that in this phrase Christ was stooping to the conceptions\nof the penitent thief by using a popular expression for some happy\nplace in the other world.[5]  At least the word, which means a garden\nor park and was applied to the abode of our first parents in Eden,\ncould not but call up in the consciousness of the dying man a scene of\nbeauty, innocence and peace, where, washed clean from the defilement of\nhis past errors, he would begin to exist again as a new creature.  Even\nChristians have believed that the utmost that can be expected in the\nnext world by a soul with a history like the robber's is, at least to\nbegin with, to be consigned to the fires of purgatory.  But far\ndifferent is the grace of Christ: great and perfect is His work, and\ntherefore ours is a full salvation.\n\nThis second word from the cross affords a rare glimpse into the divine\nglory of the Saviour; and it is all the more impressive that it is\nindirect.  The thief, in the most solemn circumstances, spoke to Him as\nto a King and prayed to Him as to a God.[6]  And how did He respond?\nDid He say, \"Pray not to Me; I am a man like yourself, and I know as\nlittle of the unknown country into which we are both about to enter as\nyou do\"?  This is what He ought to have answered, if He was no more\nthan some make Him out to be.  But He accepted the homage of His\npetitioner; He spoke of the world unseen as of a place native and\nfamiliar.  He gave him to understand that He possessed as much\ninfluence there as he attributed to Him.  This great sinner laid on\nChrist the weight of his soul, the weight of his sins, the weight of\nhis eternity; and Christ accepted the burden.\n\n\n\n[1] \"To-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise.\"\n\n[2] So Augustin and many.\n\n[3] Schleiermacher makes much of this; and, indeed, does everything in\nhis power to minimise the moral miracle.  The whole sermon is a\nspecimen of his worst manner, when he rides away on some side issue and\nfails to expound the great central lessons of a subject.\n\n[4] Tholuck.\n\n[5] \"In Biblical Hebrew the word is used for a choice garden but in the\nLXX. and the Apocalypse it is already used in our sense of\nParadise.\"--EDERSHEIM.\n\n[6] The word \"Lord\" in the robber's speech is, however, unauthentic.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nTHE THIRD WORD FROM THE CROSS[1]\n\nIn the life of our Lord from first to last there is a strange blending\nof the majestic and the lowly.  When a beam of His divine dignity is\nallowed to shine out and dazzle us, it is never long before there\nensues some incident which reminds us that He is bone of our bone and\nflesh of our flesh; and, contrariwise, when He does anything which\nimpressively brings home to us His humanity, there always follows\nsomething to remind us that He was greater than the sons of men.  Thus\nat His birth He was laid in a manger; yet out on the pastures of\nBethlehem angels sang His praise.  Long afterwards He was asleep in the\nend of the boat, and so overcome with fatigue that He needed to be\nawakened to realise His danger; but immediately He rebuked the winds\nand the waves, and there was a great calm.  When He saw the grief of\nMartha and Mary, \"Jesus wept\"; but only a few minutes afterwards He\ncried, \"Lazarus, come forth,\" and He was obeyed.  So it was to the very\nlast.  In studying the Second Word from the cross we saw Him opening\nthe gates of Paradise to the penitent thief; to-day the Third Word will\nshow Him to us as the Son of a woman, concerned in His dying hour for\nher bodily sustenance.\n\n\nI.\n\nThe eye of Jesus, roving over the multitude whose component parts have\nbeen already described, lighted on His mother standing at the foot of\nthe cross.  In the words of the great mediaeval hymn, which is known to\nall by its opening words, _Stabat mater_, and from the fact that it has\nbeen set to music by such masters as Palestrina, Haydn and Rossini,\n\n  \"Beside the cross in tears\n    The woeful mother stood,\n  Bent 'neath the weight of years,\n    And viewed His flowing blood;\n  Her mind with grief was torn,\n    Her strength was ebbing fast,\n  And through her heart forlorn\n    The sword of anguish passed.\"\n\nWhen she carried her Infant into the temple in the pride of young\nmotherhood, the venerable Simeon foretold that a sword would pierce\nthrough her own soul also.  Often perhaps had she wondered, in happy\ndays, what this mysterious prediction might mean.  But now she knew,\nfor the sword was smiting her, stab after stab.\n\nIt is always hard for a mother to see her son die.  She naturally\nexpects him to lay her head in the grave.  Especially is this the case\nwith the first-born, the son of her strength.  Jesus was only\nthirty-three, and Mary must have reached the age when a mother most of\nall leans for support on a strong and loving son.\n\nFar worse, however, was the death He was dying--the death of a\ncriminal.  Many mothers have had to suffer from the kind of death their\nchildren have died, when it has been in great agony or in otherwise\ndistressing circumstances.  But what mother's sufferings were ever\nequal to Mary's?  There He hung before her eyes; but she was helpless.\nHis wounds bled, but she dared not stanch them; His mouth was parched,\nbut she could not moisten it.  These outstretched arms used to clasp\nher neck; she used to fondle these pierced hands and feet.  Ah! the\nnails pierced her as well as Him; the thorns round His brow were a\ncircle of flame about her heart; the taunts flung at Him wounded her\nlikewise.\n\nBut there was worse still--the sword cut deeper.  Had not the angel\ntold her before His birth, \"He shall be great, and shall be called the\nSon of the Highest, and the Lord God shall give unto Him the throne of\nHis father David; and He shall reign over the house of Jacob for ever;\nand of His kingdom there shall be no end\"?  This greatness, this\nthrone, this crown, this kingdom--where were they?  Once she had\nbelieved that she really was what the angel had called her--the most\nblessed of women--when she saw Him lying in her lap in His beautiful\ninfancy, when the Shepherds and the Magi came to adore Him, and when\nSimeon and Anna recognised Him as the Messiah.  After that ensued the\nlong period of His obscurity in Nazareth.  He was only the village\ncarpenter; but she did not weary, for He was with her in their home;\nand she was confident that the greatness, the throne, the crown, the\nkingdom would all come in good time.  At last His hour struck; and,\ncasting down His tools and bidding her farewell, He went forth out of\nthe little valley into the great world.  It is all coming now, she\nsaid.  Soon the news arrived of the words of grace and power He was\nspeaking, of the multitudes following Him, of the nation being roused,\nand of the blind, the lame, the diseased, the bereaved who blessed Him\nfor giving joy back to their lives, and blessed her who had borne Him.\nIt is all coming to pass, she said.  But then followed other news--of\nreaction, of opposition, of persecution.  Her heart sank within her.\nShe could not stay where she was.  She left Nazareth and went away\ntrembling to see what had happened.  And now she stands at the foot of\nHis cross.  He is dying; and the greatness, the glory, and the kingdom\nhave never come.\n\nWhat could it mean?  Had the angel been a deceiver, and God's word a\nlie, and all the wonders of His childhood a dream?  We know the\nexplanation now: Jesus was about to climb a far loftier throne than\nMary had ever imagined, and the cross was the only road to it.  Before\nmany weeks were over Mary was to understand this too; but meantime it\nmust have been dark as Egypt to her, and her heart must have been\nsorrowful even unto death.  The sword had pierced very deep.\n\n\nII.\n\nThere were other women with Mary beneath the cross--two of them Marys,\nlike herself.[2]  As an ancient father[3] has said, the weaker sex on\nthis occasion proved itself the stronger.  When the apostles had\nforsaken their Master and fled, these women were true to the last.\nPerhaps, indeed, their sex protected them.  Women can venture into some\nplaces where men dare not go; and this is a talent which many women\nhave used for rendering services to the Saviour which men could not\nhave performed.\n\nBut there was one there who had not this protection, and who in\nventuring so near must have taken his life in his hand.  St. John, I\nsuppose, is included with the rest of the apostles in the sad statement\nthat they all forsook their Master and fled.  But, if so, his panic can\nonly have lasted a moment.  He was present at the very commencement of\nthe trial; and here he still is with his Master at the last--the only\none of all the Twelve.  Perhaps, indeed, the acquaintance with the\nhigh-priest, which availed him to get into the palace where the trial\ntook place, may still have operated in his favour.  But it was most of\nall his greater devotion that brought him to his Master's side.  He who\nhad leaned on His breast could not stay away, whatever might be the\ndanger.  And he had his reward; for he was permitted to render a last\nservice to Jesus amidst His agony, and he received from Him a token of\nconfidence which by a heart like his must have been felt to be an\nunspeakable privilege and honour.\n\n\nIII.\n\nIt is most of all, however, with the impression made by the situation\non Jesus Himself that we wish to acquaint ourselves.\n\nHe looked on His mother; and it was with an unpreoccupied eye, that was\nable to disengage its attention from every other object by which it was\nsolicited.  He was suffering at the time an extremity of pain which\nmight have made Him insensible to everything beyond Himself.  Or, if He\nhad composure enough to think, a dying man has many things to reflect\nupon within his own mind.  Christ, we know, had a whole world of\ninterests to attend to; for now He was engaged in a final wrestle with\nthe problem to which His whole life had been devoted.  The prayer on\nbehalf of His enemies does not surprise us so much, for it may be said\nto have been part of His office to intercede for sinners; nor His\naddress to the penitent thief, for this also was quite in harmony with\nHis work as the Saviour.  But we do wonder that in such an hour He had\nleisure to attend to a domestic detail of ordinary life.  Men who have\nbeen engaged in philanthropic and reformatory schemes have not\ninfrequently been unmindful of the claims of their own families; and\nthey have excused themselves, or excuse has been made for them, on the\nground that the public interest predominated over the rights of their\nrelatives.  Now and then Jesus Himself spoke as if He took this view:\nHe would not allow His plans to be interfered with even by His mother.\nBut now He showed that, though He could not but refuse her unjust\ninterference, He had never for a moment forgotten her just claims or\nher true interests.  In spite of His greatness and in spite of His\nwork, He still remained Mary's Son and bore to her an undying affection.\n\nThe words He spoke were, indeed, few; but they completely covered the\ncase.  Every word He uttered in that position was with great pain;\ntherefore He could not say much.  Besides, their very fewness imparted\nto them a kind of judicial dignity; as has been said, this was Christ's\nlast will and testament.  To His mother He said, \"Woman, behold thy\nson,\" [4] indicating St. John with His eyes; and to the disciple He\nmerely said, \"Behold thy mother.\"  It was simple, yet comprehensive; a\nplain, almost legal direction, and yet overflowing with love to both\nMary and John.\n\nIt is supposed that Joseph, the husband of the Virgin, had died before\nour Lord's public career began, and that in Nazareth the weight of the\nhousehold had fallen on the shoulders of Jesus.  No doubt, during His\nyears of preaching, He would tenderly care for His mother.  But now He\ntoo was leaving her, and the widow would be without support.  It was\nfor this He had to provide.\n\nHe had no money to leave her; His earthly all, when He was crucified,\nconsisted of the clothes He wore; and these fell to the soldiers.  But\nit is one of the privileges of those who, though they may be poor\nthemselves, make many rich with the gifts of truth, that they thereby\nwin friends who are proud and eager to serve them or theirs.  In\ncommitting His mother to St. John Jesus knew that the charge would be\naccepted not as a burden but a gift.\n\nWhy she did not go to the home of one of her other sons it is\nimpossible to say.  They were not yet believers, though soon afterwards\nthey became so; but there may have been other reasons also, to us\nunknown.\n\nAt all events, it is easy to see how kind and considerate was the\nselection of St. John for this office.  There are indications in the\nGospels that St. John was wealthier, or at least more comfortable in\nhis circumstances, than the rest of the Apostles; and this may have\nweighed with Jesus: He would not send His mother where she would feel\nherself to be a burden.  It is highly probable also that St. John was\nunmarried.  But there were deeper reasons.  There was no arm on which\nHis mother could lean so confidently as that of him who had leaned on\nher Son's breast.  St. Peter, with his hot temper and rough fisherman's\nways, would not have been nearly so eligible a choice.  John and Mary\nwere kindred spirits.  They were especially one in their intense\naffection for Jesus.  They would never tire of speaking to one another\nabout Him.  He honoured both of them in each other's eyes by giving\nthem to one another in this way.  If He gave Mary a great gift in\ngiving her St. John for a son, He gave him no less a gift by giving him\nsuch a mother; for Mary could not but be an ornament to any home.\nBesides, did He not make St. John in a quite peculiar sense His own\nbrother by substituting him in His own stead as the son of Mary?\n\nThe Evangelist says that from that hour John took her to his own home.\nMany have understood this to mean that he at once gently withdrew her\nfrom the spot, that she should not be agitated by seeing the\ndeath-throes of her Son, though he himself returned to Calvary.  It is\nsaid by tradition that they lived together twelve years in Jerusalem,\nand that he refused to leave the city, even for the purpose of\npreaching the gospel, as long as Mary survived.  Only after her death\ndid he depart on those missionary travels which landed him in Ephesus\nand its neighbourhood, with which his later history is connected.\n\n\nIV.\n\nIt is not difficult to read the lesson of this touching scene.  From\nthe pulpit of His cross Jesus preaches to all ages a sermon on the\nfifth commandment.\n\nThe heart of the mother of Jesus was pierced with a sword on account of\nHis sufferings.  It was a sharp weapon; but Mary had one thing on which\nto steady up her soul; it kept her calm even in the wildest moment of\nher grief--she knew He was innocent.  He had always been pure, noble\nand good; she could be proud of Him even when they were crucifying Him.\nMany a mother's heart is pierced with anguish on account of a son's\nillness, or misfortunes, or early death; but she can bear it if she is\nnot pierced with the poisoned sword.  What is that?  It is when she has\nto be ashamed of her child--when he is brought to ruin by his own\nmisdeeds.  This is a sorrow far worse than death.\n\nHow beautiful it is to see a mother wearing as her chief ornament the\ngood name and the honourable success of a son!  You who still have a\nmother or a father, let this be to you both a spur to exertion and a\ntalisman against temptation.  To some is accorded the rarer privilege\nof being able to support their parents in old age.  And surely there is\nno sweeter memory in the world than the recollection of having been\nallowed to do this.  \"If any widow have children or nephews, let them\nlearn first to show piety at home and to requite their parents; for\nthat is good and acceptable before God. . . .  But if any provide not\nfor his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied\nthe faith, and is worse than an infidel.\" [5]\n\nBut this sermon, delivered from the pulpit of the cross, has a wider\nrange.  It informs us that our Saviour has a concern for our temporal\nas well as for our eternal interests.  Even on the cross, where He was\nexpiating the sin of the world, He was thinking of the comfort of His\nwidowed mother.  Let the needy and the deserted take courage from this,\nand cast all their care upon Him, for He careth for them.  It is often\nan astonishment to see how widows especially are helped through.  When\nthey are left, with perhaps a number of little children, it seems\nincomprehensible how they can get on.  Yet not infrequently their\nfamilies turn out better than those where the father has been spared.\nOne reason is, perhaps, that their children feel from the first that\nthey must take a share of the responsibility, and this makes men and\nwomen of them.  But the chief reason undoubtedly is that God fulfils\nHis own promise to be a Father to the fatherless and a Husband to the\nwidow, and that they have not been forgotten by Him who in the hour of\nHis absorbing agony remembered Mary.\n\n\n\n[1] \"Woman, behold thy son . . .  Behold thy mother.\"\n\n[2] It is not certain whether John xix. 25 describes three women or\nfour.  Is the second Salome, John's mother?\n\n[3] Chrysostom.\n\n[4] \"Woman\" may mean sadly (proleptically), \"Thou hast no son now.\"\n\n[5] 1 Tim. v. 6, 8.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nTHE FOURTH WORD FROM THE CROSS[1]\n\nThe Seven Words from the Cross may be divided into two groups.  In the\nfirst three--namely, the prayer for His crucifiers, the word to the\npenitent thief, and the directions about His mother--our Lord was\ndealing with the interests of others; in the last four, to which we now\npass, He was absorbed in His own concerns.  This division is natural.\nMany a dying man, after arranging his affairs and saying his farewells,\nturns his face to the wall, to encounter death and be alone with God.\nIt was highly characteristic of Jesus, however, before turning to His\nown things, first to mind the things of others.\n\nBetween these two groups of sayings there seems to have elapsed a long\ninterval.  From the sixth hour to the ninth Jesus was silent.  And\nduring this interval there was darkness over all the land.  Of what\nprecise nature this atmospheric effect may have been it is impossible\nat this distance to say.  But the Evangelists, three of whom mention\nit, evidently consider it to have indicated in some sense the sympathy\nof nature with her Lord.  It was as if the sun refused to look on such\na deed of shame.  It may be supposed that by this weird phenomenon the\nnoises round the cross were in some degree hushed.  At length the\nsilence was broken by Christ Himself, who, in a loud voice, gave\nutterance to the Fourth Word from the cross.  This was a word of\nastonishment and agony, yet also of victory.\n\n\nI.\n\nOf what nature had been the meditations of our Lord during the three\nhours of silence?  Had He been in an ecstasy of communion with His\nheavenly Father?  Not infrequently has this been vouchsafed to dying\nsaints.  And it has sometimes enabled them completely to overcome\nphysical suffering.  Martyrs have occasionally been so exalted at the\nlast as to be able even to sing in the flames.  It is with awe and\nastonishment we learn that the very opposite of this was the state of\nmind of Jesus.  The word with which He burst out of the trance of\nsilence may be taken as the index of what was going on in His mind\nduring the preceding hours; and it is a cry out of the lowest depths of\ndespair.  Indeed, it is the most appalling sound that ever pierced the\natmosphere of this earth.  Familiar as it is to us, it cannot be heard\nby a sensitive ear even at this day without causing a cold shudder of\nterror.  In the entire Bible there is no other sentence so difficult to\nexplain.  The first thought of a preacher, on coming to it, is to find\nsome excuse for passing it by; and, after doing his utmost to expound\nit, he must still confess that it is quite beyond him.  Yet there is a\ngreat reward in grappling with such difficult passages; for never does\nthe truth impress us so profoundly as when we are made to feel that all\nthe length which we are able to go is only into the shallows of the\nshore, while beyond our reach lies the great ocean.\n\nEven in Christ's own mind the uppermost thought, when He uttered this\ncry, was one of astonishment.  In Gethsemane, we are told, \"He was sore\namazed.\"  And this is obviously the tone of this utterance also.  We\nalmost detect an accentuation of the \"Thou\" like that in the word with\nwhich the murdered Caesar fell.  All His life Jesus had been accustomed\nto find Himself forsaken.  The members of His own household early\nrejected Him.  So did His fellow-townsmen in Nazareth.  Ultimately the\nnation at large followed the same course.  The multitudes that at one\ntime followed Him wherever He went and hung upon His lips eventually\ntook offence and went away.  At last, in the crisis of His fate, one of\nHis nearest followers betrayed Him and the rest forsook Him and fled.\nBut in these disappointments, though He felt them keenly, He had always\nhad one resource: He was always able, when rejected of men, to turn\naway from them and cast Himself with confidence on the breast of God.\nDisappointed of human love, He drank the more deeply of the love\ndivine.  He always knew that what He was doing or suffering was in\naccord with the will of God; His feelings kept constant time with the\nDivine heart; God's thoughts were His thoughts; He could clearly\ndiscern the divine intention leading through all the contradictions of\nHis career to a sublime result.  Therefore He could calmly say, even at\nthe Last Supper, with reference to the impending desertion of the\nTwelve, \"Behold, the hour cometh, yea, is now come, that ye shall be\nscattered, every man to his own, and shall leave Me alone; and yet I am\nnot alone, because the Father is with Me.\"  Now, however, the hour had\ncome; and was this expectation fulfilled?  They were scattered, as He\nhad predicted, and He was left alone; but was He not alone? was the\nFather still with Him?  His own words supply the answer: \"My God, My\nGod, why hast Thou forsaken Me?\"\n\n\nII.\n\nAlthough the state of mind of our Lord on this occasion was so\ndifferent from what we know to have been His habitual mood, yet it does\nnot stand absolutely isolated in His history.  We know of at least two\nexperiences somewhat resembling it, and these may in some degree help\nus to its explanation.  The first overtook Him on the occasion of the\nvisit of certain Greeks at the beginning of the last week of His life.\nThey had desired to see Him; but, when they were introduced by Andrew\nand Philip, Jesus, instead of being exhilarated, as might have been\nexpected, was overcome with a spasm of pain, and groaned, \"Now is My\nsoul troubled, and what shall I say?  Father, save Me from this hour.\"\nThe sight of these visitors from the outside world made Him feel how\ngrand and how congenial to Himself would have been a worldwide mission\nto the heathen, such as He might have undertaken had His life been\nprolonged; but this was impossible, because in the flower of His age He\nwas to die.  The other occasion was the Agony of Gethsemane.  A careful\nand reverent study will reveal that this incident was the effort by\nwhich the will of Christ rose into unity with the will of His Father.\nIt belongs to the very essence of human nature that it must grow from\nstage to stage; and the perfection of our Lord, just because it was\nhuman, had to realise itself on every step of a ladder of development.\nHe was always both perfect on the stage which He had reached, and at\nthe same time rising to a higher stage of perfection.  Sometimes the\nstep might be more easy, at other times more difficult; the step which\nHe had to take in Gethsemane was supremely difficult; hence the effort\nand the pain which it cost.  It seemed, however, in Gethsemane as if He\nhad finally conquered, and it might have been expected that the mood of\nweakness and darkness could not come back.  Yet it was to be permitted\nto return once more; and on the cross the attack was far more violent\nand prolonged than on either of the preceding occasions.  Keeping in\nmind the light which these two previous accesses of the same mood may\ncast on this one, let us draw near reverently and see how far we may be\nable to penetrate into the mystery.\n\nThere can be little doubt that there was a physical element in it.  He\nhad now been a considerable time on the cross; and every minute the\nagony was increasing.  The wounds in His hands and feet, exposed to the\natmosphere and the sun, grew barked and hardened; the blood, impeded in\nits circulation, swelled in heart and brain, till these organs were\nlike to burst; and the slightest attempt to move the body from the one\nintolerable posture caused pains to shoot along the quivering nerves.\nBodily suffering clouds the brain and distorts the images formed on the\nmirror of the mind.  Even the face of God, reflected there, may be\nturned to a shape of terror by the fumes of physical trouble.\n\nThe horror of mortal suffering may have been greater to Jesus than to\nother men, because of the fineness and sensitiveness of His physical\norganization.  His body had never been coarsened with sin, and\ntherefore death was utterly alien to it.  The stream of physical life,\nwhich is one of the precious gifts of God, had poured through His frame\nin abundant and sunny tides.  But now it was being withdrawn, and the\ncounterflow had set in.  The unity of a perfect nature was being\nviolently torn asunder; and He felt Himself drifting away from the\nliving world, which to Him had been so full of God's presence and\ngoodness, into the pale, cold regions of inanity.[2]  He did not belong\nto death; yet He was falling into death's grasp.  No angel came to\nrescue Him; God interposed with no miracle to arrest the issue; He was\nabandoned to His fate.\n\nThere was more, however, it is easy to see, in the agony which prompted\nthis cry than the merely physical.  If in Gethsemane we have the effort\nof the will of Jesus, as it raised itself into unity with the will of\nthe Father, we here see the effort of His mind as, amidst the confusion\nand contradictions of the cross, it finally rose into unity with the\nmind of God.  This intellectual character of His pain is indicated by\nthe word \"Why.\"  It is always painful when the creature has to say Why\nto the Creator.  We believe that He is Sovereign of the world and Guide\nof our destiny, and that He urges forward the course of things in the\nreins of infinite wisdom and love.  But, while this is the habitual and\nhealthy sense of the human mind, especially when it is truly religious,\nthere are crises, both in the great and in the little world, when faith\nfails.  The world is out of joint; everything appears to have gone\nwrong; the reins seem to have slipped out of the hands of God and the\nchariot to be plunging forward uncontrolled; the course of things seems\nno more to be presided over by reason, but by a blind, if not a cruel\nfate.  It is then that the poor human mind cries out Why.  The entire\nbook of Job is such a cry.  Jeremiah cried Why to God in terms of\nstartling boldness.  In mortal pain, in bewildering disappointments, in\nbereavements which empty the heart and empty the world, millions have\nthus cried Why in every age.  It seems an irreligious word.  When\nJeremiah says, \"O Lord, Thou hast deceived me and I was deceived,\" or\nwhen Job demands, \"Why did I not from the womb? why did I not give up\nthe ghost when I came out of the belly?\" it sounds like the voice of a\nblasphemer.  But indeed it is into the most earnest and delicate souls\nthat this despair is likeliest to slip.  The ignorant, the frivolous\nand the time-serving are safe from it; for they are well enough\nsatisfied with things as they are.  Callous minds learn to be content\nwithout explanations.  But the more deeply pious a mind is, the more\njealous must it be for justice and the glory of God; the appearance of\nunwisdom in the government of the world shocks it; to be able to trace\nthe footsteps of God's care is a necessity of its existence.  Hence its\npain when these evidences disappear.  Now, all the contradictions and\nconfusions of the world were focussed on Golgotha.  Injustice was\ntriumphant; innocence was scorned and crushed; everything was exactly\nthe reverse of what it ought to have been.  And all the millions of\nWhys which have risen from agonized souls, jealous for the honour of\nGod but perplexed by His providence, were concentrated in the Why of\nChrist.\n\nHow near to us He is!  Never perhaps in His whole life did He so\ncompletely identify Himself with His poor brethren of mankind.  For\nhere He comes down to stand by our side not only when we have to\nencounter pain and misfortune, bereavement and death, but when we are\nenduring that pain which is beyond all pains, that horror in whose\npresence the brain reels, and faith and love, the eyes of life, are put\nout--the horror of a universe without God, a universe which is one\nhideous, tumbling, crashing mass of confusion, with no reason to guide\nand no love to sustain it.\n\nCan we advance a step farther into the mystery?  The deepest question\nof all is whether the desertion of Jesus was subjective or\nobjective--that is, whether He had only, on account of bodily weakness\nand a temporary obscuration of the inward vision, a sense of being\nabandoned, or whether, in any real sense, God had actually forsaken\nHim.  Of course we are certain that God was infinitely well pleased\nwith Him--never more so, surely, than when He was sacrificing Himself\nto the uttermost on behalf of others.  But was there, at the same time,\nany outflashing against Him of the reverse side of the Divine\nnature--the lightning of the Divine wrath?  Calvary was an awful\nrevelation of the human heart, whose enmity was directed straight\nagainst the perfect revelation of the love of God in Christ.  There the\nsin of man reached its climax and did its worst.  What was done there\nagainst Christ, and against God in Him, was a kind of embodiment and\nquintessence of the sin of the whole world.  And undoubtedly it was\nthis which was pressing on Jesus; this was \"the travail of His soul.\"\nHe was looking close at sin's utmost hideousness; He was sickened with\nits contact; He was crushed with its brutality--crushed to death.  Yet\nthis human nature was His own; He was identified with it--bone of its\nbone, flesh of its flesh; and, as in a reprobate family an exquisitely\ndelicate and refined sister may feel the whole weight of the debt and\nshame of the household to lie on herself, so He felt the unworthiness\nand hopelessness of the race as if they were His own; and, like the\nscapegoat on whose head the sins of the community were laid in the old\ndispensation, He went out into the land of forsakenness.\n\nThus far we may proceed, feeling that we have solid ground beneath our\nfeet.  But many have ventured farther.  Even Luther and Calvin allowed\nthemselves to say that in the hours which preceded this cry our Lord\nendured the torments of the damned.  And Rambach, whose _Meditations on\nthe Sufferings of Christ_ have fed the piety of Germany for a hundred\nyears, says: \"God was now dealing with Him not as a loving and merciful\nfather with his child, but as an offended and righteous judge with an\nevildoer.  The heavenly Father now regards His Son as the greatest\nsinner to be found beneath the sun, and discharges on Him the whole\nweight of His wrath.\"  But, if we were to make use of such language, we\nshould be venturing beyond our depth.  Much to be preferred is the\nmodest comment of the holy and learned Bengel on our text: \"In this\nfourth word from the cross our Saviour not only says that He has been\ndelivered up into the hands of men, but that He has suffered at the\nhands of God something unutterable.\"  Certainly there is here something\nunutterable.  We have ventured into the mystery as far as we are able;\nbut we know that we are yet only in the shallows near the shore; the\nunplumbed ocean lies beyond.\n\n\nIII.\n\nIt may appear an affectation to speak of this as in any sense a cry of\nvictory.  Yet, if what has just been said be true, this, which was the\nextreme moment of suffering, was also the supreme moment of\nachievement.  As the flower, by being crushed, yields up its fragrant\nessence, so He, by taking into His heart the sin of the world, brought\nsalvation to the world.\n\nIn point of fact, all history since has shown that it was in this very\nhour that Christ conquered the heart of mankind.  Long before He had\nsaid, \"I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto Me.\"\nAnd the correctness of this anticipation is matter of history.  Christ\non the cross has ever since then been the most fascinating object in\nthe eyes of mankind.  The mind and heart of humanity have been\nirresistibly attracted to Him, never weary of studying Him.  And the\nutterance of this cry is the culminating moment to which the inquiring\nmind specially turns.  Theology has its centre in the cross.\nSometimes, indeed, it has been shy of it, and has divagated from it in\nwide circles; but, as soon as it becomes profound and humble again, it\nalways returns.\n\nYes, when it becomes humble!  Penitent souls are drawn to the cross,\nand the deeper their penitence the more are they at home.  They stand\nbeside the dying Saviour and say, This is what we ought to have\nsuffered; our life was forfeited by our guilt; thus our blood deserved\nto flow; we might justly have been banished forever into the desert of\nforsakenness.  But, as they thus make confession, their forfeited life\nis given back to them for Christ's sake, the peace of God is shed\nabroad in their hearts, and the new life of love and service begins.\nThe supreme Christian rite brings us to this very spot and to this very\nmoment: \"This is My blood of the New Testament, shed for many for the\nremission of sins.\"\n\nIt was not, however, merely in this profound sense that this fourth\nword of the dying Saviour was a cry of victory.  It was so, also,\nbecause it liberated Him from His depression.  It has been said that\nwhen, at His encounter with the Greeks, He groaned, \"Father, save Me\nfrom this hour,\" He immediately checked Himself with \"Father, glorify\nThy name\"; likewise that in Gethsemane, when He prayed, \"If it be\npossible, let this cup pass from Me,\" He hastened to add,\n\"Nevertheless, not My will, but Thine be done\"; but that on this\noccasion the cry of despair was followed by no word of resignation.\nThis, however, is a mistake.  The cry itself, though an utterance of\ndespair, yet involved the strongest faith.  See how He lays hold of the\nEternal with both hands: \"My God, My God!\"  It is a prayer: a thousand\ntimes He had turned to this resource In days of trial; and He does so\nin this supreme trouble.  To do so cures despair.  No one is forsaken\nwho can pray, \"My God.\"  As one in deep water, feeling no bottom, makes\na despairing plunge forward and lands on solid ground, so Jesus, in the\nvery act of uttering His despair, overcame it.  Feeling forsaken of\nGod, He rushed into the arms of God; and these arms closed round Him in\nloving protection.  Accordingly, as the darkness, which had brooded\nover all the land, disappeared at the ninth hour, so His mind emerged\nfrom eclipse; and, as we shall see, His last words were uttered in His\nusual mood of serenity.\n\n\n\n[1] \"My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?\"\n\n[2] Some of the Fathers thought of the separation of the divine from\nthe human nature as taking place now.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nTHE FIFTH WORD FROM THE CROSS[1]\n\nThe fourth word from the cross we looked upon both as the climax of the\nstruggle which had gone on in the mind of the divine Sufferer during\nthe three hours of silence and darkness which preceded its utterance\nand as the liberation of His mind from that struggle.  This view seems\nto be confirmed by the terms in which St. John introduces the Fifth\nWord--\"After this, Jesus, knowing that all things were now\naccomplished,[2] that the Scripture might be fulfilled, saith, I\nthirst.\"\n\nThe phrase, \"that the Scripture might be fulfilled,\" is usually\nconnected with the words, \"I thirst,\" as if the meaning were that He\nhad said this fifth word in fulfilment of some prediction that He would\ndo so; and the Old Testament is ransacked, without much result, for the\nprophetic words which may be supposed to be alluded to.  It is better,\nhowever, to connect the phrase with what goes before--\"Jesus, knowing\nthat all things were now accomplished.\"  It was only when His work,\nappointed by God and prescribed in Scripture, was completed, that He\nbecame sufficiently conscious of His bodily condition to say, \"I\nthirst.\"  Intense mental preoccupation has a tendency to cause the\noblivion of bodily wants.  Even the excitement of reading a fascinating\nbook may keep at a distance for hours the sense of requiring sleep or\nfood; and it is only when the reader comes out of the trance of\nabsorption that he realises how spent he is.  During the temptation in\nthe wilderness Jesus was too absorbed to be aware of His bodily\nnecessities; but, when the spiritual strain was removed, He \"was\nafterward an hungered.\"\n\nIn the present instance, when He came out of His spiritual trance, it\nwas thirst He became conscious of.  I remember once talking with a\nGerman student who had served in the Franco-Prussian War.  He was\nwounded in an engagement near Paris, and lay on the field unable to\nstir.  He did not know exactly what was the nature of his wound, and he\nthought that he might be dying.  The pain was intense; the wounded and\ndying were groaning round about him; the battle was still raging; and\nshots were falling and tearing up the ground in all directions.  But\nafter a time one agony, he told me, began to swallow up all the rest,\nand soon made him forget his wound, his danger and his neighbours.  It\nwas the agony of thirst.  He would have given the world for a draught\nof water.  This was the supreme distress of crucifixion.  The agonies\nof the horrible punishment were of the most excruciating and\ncomplicated order; but, after a time, they all gathered into one\ncentral current, in which they were lost and swallowed up--that of\ndevouring thirst; and it was this that drew from our Lord the fifth\nword.[3]\n\n\nI.\n\nThis was the only cry of physical pain uttered by our Lord on the\ncross.  As was remarked in a previous chapter, it was not uncommon for\nthe victims of crucifixion, when the ghastly operation of nailing them\nto the tree began, to writhe and resist, and to indulge either in\nabject entreaties to be saved from the inevitable or in wild defiance\nof their fate.  But at this stage Jesus uttered never a word of\ncomplaint.  Afterwards also, in spite of the ever-increasing pain, He\npreserved absolute self-control.  He was absorbed either in caring for\nothers or in prayer to God.\n\nIt is a sublime example of patience.  It rebukes our softness and\nintolerance of pain.  How easily we are made to cry out; how peevish\nand ill-tempered we become under slight annoyances!  A headache, a\ntoothache, a cold, or some other slight affair, is supposed to be a\nsufficient justification for losing all self-control and making a whole\nhousehold uncomfortable.  Suffering does not always sanctify.  It sours\nsome tempers and makes them selfish and exacting.  This is the\nbesetting sin of invalids--to become absorbed in their own miseries and\nto make all about them the slaves of their caprices.  But many triumph\nnobly over their temptation; and in this they are following the example\nof the suffering Saviour.  There are sick-rooms which it is a privilege\nto visit.  You may know that the place is a scene of excruciating pain;\nbut on the pillow there lies a sweet, patient face; the voice is\ncheerful and thankful; and, instead of being self-absorbed, the mind is\nfull of unselfish thoughts for others.  I recall the description given\nby a friend of one such invalid's chamber, which used to be filled with\nthe most beautiful cheerfulness and activity.  At a certain time of\nyear you might see in it quite an exhibition of stockings, pinafores,\ndresses and other pretty things, prepared for the children of a\nmission-school in India.  By thinking of the needs of those children\nfar away the invalid not only kept her own sufferings at bay, but\ncreated for herself delightful connections with God's work and God's\npeople.  Yet she was one who might easily have asserted the right to do\nnothing, and have taxed the patience and the services of those by whom\nshe was surrounded.\n\nBut there is another lesson besides patience in this word of Christ.\nHe only uttered one word of physical pain; but He did utter one.  His\nself-control was not proud or sullen.  There is a silence in suffering\nthat is mere doggedness, when we screw our courage to the\nsticking-place and resolve that nobody shall hear any complaint from\nus.  We succeed in being silent, but it is with a bad grace: there is\nno love or patience in our hearts, but only selfish determination.\nThis is especially a temptation when anyone has injured us and we do\nnot wish to let him see how much we have suffered, lest he should be\ngratified.  Jesus was surrounded by those who had wantonly wronged Him;\nnot only had they inflicted pain, but they had laughed and mocked at\nHis sufferings.  He might have resolved not on any account to show His\nfeelings or at least to ask any kindness.  It is sometimes more\ndifficult to ask a favour than to grant one; it requires more of the\nspirit of forgiveness.[4]  But not only did Jesus ask a favour: He\nexpected to receive it.  Shamefully as He had been treated by those to\nwhom He had to appeal, He believed that there might still be some\nremains of goodness at the bottom of their hearts.  All His life He had\nbeen wont to discover more good in the worst than others believed to\nexist, and to the last He remained true to His own faith.  The maxim of\nthe world is to take all men for rogues till the reverse has been\nproved.  Especially when people have enemies, they believe the own very\nworst of them and paint their characters without a single streak of any\ncolour but black.  To those from whom we differ in opinion we attribute\nthe basest motives and refuse to hear any good of them.  But this is\nnot the way of Christ: He believed there were some drops of the milk of\nhuman kindness even in the hard-hearted Roman soldiers; and He was not\ndisappointed.[5]\n\n\nII.\n\nIt is impossible to hear this pathetic cry, so expressive of\nhelplessness and dependence, without recalling other words of our Lord\nto which it stands in marked contrast.  Can this be He who, standing in\nJerusalem not long before, surrounded with a great multitude, lifted up\nHis voice and cried, \"If any man thirst, let him come unto Me and\ndrink\"?  Can it be He who, standing at the well of Jacob with the\nSamaritan woman and pointing to the springing fountain at their feet,\nsaid, \"Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again; but\nwhosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never\nthirst; but the water that I shall give shall be in him a well of water\nspringing up into everlasting life\"?  Can He who in words like these\noffered to quench the thirst of the world be the same who now whispers\nin mortal exhaustion, \"I thirst\"?\n\nIt is the same; and this is a contrast which runs through His whole\nlife, the contrast between inward wealth and outward poverty.  He was\nable to enrich the whole world, yet He had to be supported by the\ncontributions of the women who followed Him; He could say, \"I am the\nbread of life,\" yet He sometimes hungered for a meal; He could promise\nthrones and many mansions to those who believed on Him, yet He said\nHimself, \"Foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, yet\nthe Son of man hath not where to lay His head.\"\n\nIn a materialistic age, when in so many circles money is the measure of\nthe man, and when people are so excessively concerned about what they\nshall eat and what they shall drink and wherewithal they shall be\nclothed, it is worth while to bear this contrast in mind.  Seldom have\nthe noblest specimens of humanity been those who have been able to\nwallow in luxury; and the men who have enriched the world with the\ntreasures of the mind have not infrequently been hardly able to procure\ndaily bread.  Our older boys may have seen on some of their\nschool-books the name of Heyne.  His is an immortal name in classical\nscholarship; but when he was a student, and even when he was enriching\nthe literature of his country with splendid editions of the ancient\nwriters, he was literally starving, and had sometimes to subsist on\nskins of apples and other offal picked up from the streets.  Our own\nSamuel Johnson, to whose wisdom the whole globe is now a debtor, when\nengaged on some of his greatest works, had not shoes in which to go\nout, and did not know where his dinner was to come from.  It would be\neasy from history to multiply instances of those who, though poor, yet\nhave made many rich.\n\nThe inference is not, that one must be poor externally if one desires\nto be inwardly rich.  The materially poor are not all spiritually rich\nby any means; multitudes of them, alas, are as poverty-stricken in mind\nand character as in physical condition.  Perhaps one might even go so\nfar as to say that as a rule the inwardly rich enjoy at least a\ncompetent portion of the good things of this life; for intelligence and\ncharacter have even a market value, Money, too, can be made subservient\nto the highest aims of the soul.  But what it is essential to remember\nis, that the inward is the true wealth, and that we must seek and\nobtain it, even, if necessary, at the sacrifice of the outward.  If\nlife is not to be impoverished and materialised, some in every age must\nmake the choice between the inward and the outward wealth; and no one\nis worthy to be the servant of scholarship, art or religion who is not\nprepared for the choice should it fall to him.  It is by the possession\nof intelligence, generosity and spiritual power that we enter into the\nhigher ranks of manhood; and the most Christlike trait of all is to\nhave the will and the ability to overflow in influences and activities\nwhich sweeten and elevate the lives of others.\n\n\nIII.\n\nIt would appear that some of those round the cross were opposed to\ngranting the request of Jesus.  Misunderstanding the fourth word,[6]\nthey supposed He was calling for Elijah; and they proposed not to help\nHim even with a drink of water, in order to see whether or not Elijah\nwould come to the rescue.  But in one man the impulse of humanity was\ntoo strong, and he gave Jesus what He desired.  We almost love the man\nfor it, and we envy his office.\n\nBut the Saviour is still saying, \"I thirst.\"  How and where?  Listen!\n\"I was thirsty, and ye gave Me drink.\"  \"Lord, when saw we Thee athirst\nand gave Thee drink?\"  \"Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of\nthese My brethren, ye did it unto Me.\"  Wherever the brothers and\nsisters of Jesus are suffering, sitting in lonely rooms and wishing\nthat somebody would come and visit them, or lying on beds of pain and\nneeding somebody to come and ease the pillow or to reach the cup to the\ndry lips, there Christ is saying, \"I thirst.\"\n\nPerhaps He is saying it in vain.  There are multitudes of professing\nChristians who never from end to end of the year visit any poor person.\nThey never thread the obscure streets or ascend the grimy stairs in\nsearch of God's hidden ones.  They have never acquired the art of\ncheering a dark home with a flower, or a hymn, or a diet, or the touch\nof a sympathetic hand and the smile of a healthy face.  It would\ncompletely alter the Christianity of many if they could begin to do\nthese lowly services; it would put reality into it, and it would bring\ninto the heart a joy and exhilaration hitherto unknown.  For Christ\nsees to it that none who thus serve Him lose their reward.  An American\nfriend told me that once, when travelling on the continent of Europe,\nhe fell in with a fellow-countryman on board a Rhine steamer.  They\ntalked about America and soon confided to each other from which parts\nof the country they came, with other fragments of personal detail.\nThey continued to travel for some days together, and my informant was\nso overwhelmed with kindness by his companion that at last he ventured\nto ask the reason.  \"Well,\" rejoined the other, \"when the War was going\non, I was serving in your native state; and one day our march lay\nthrough the town in which you have told me you were born.  The march\nhad been very prolonged; it was a day of intense heat; I was utterly\nfatigued and felt on the point of dying for thirst, when a kind woman\ncame out of one of the houses and gave me a glass of cold water.  And I\nhave been trying to repay through you, her fellow-townsman, the\nkindness she showed to me.\"  Does it not remind us of the great word of\nthe Son of God, \"Whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little\nones a cup of cold water only in the name of a disciple, verily I say\nunto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward\"?\n\nBut is this not enough?  Does anyone wish to get still nearer to Christ\nand hold the cup not only to Him in the person of His members but to\nHis own very lips?  Well, this is possible too.  Jesus still says, \"I\nthirst.\"  He thirsts for love.  He thirsts for prayer.  He thirsts for\nservice.  He thirsts for holiness.  Whenever the heart of a human being\nturns to Him with a genuine impulse of penitence, affection or\nconsecration, the Saviour sees of the travail of His soul and is\nsatisfied.\n\n\n\n[1] \"I thirst.\"\n\n[2] _tetelestai_--the very word of Jesus Himself--\"It is finished--\"\nwhich may possibly have been fourth.\n\n[3] He had by this time been on the cross for four hours or more.  The\narrest took place about midnight; the ecclesiastical trial terminated\nabout sunrise; the proceedings before Pilate occupied perhaps from six\nto nine, or rather more; the crucifixion took place towards noon; from\nnoon till three o'clock darkness prevailed; and between this and sunset\nthe death and burial took place.  See Matt. xxvii. 1; Mark xv. 25, 33,\n34, 42.  St. John's statement of time, xix. 14, is a difficulty.  He\nappears to reckon from a different starting-point.  See Andrews' _Life\nof Our Lord_ (new edition), pp. 545 ff.  In the same passage St. John\nsays, \"It was the preparation of the passover\"; does this mean the day\nbefore the feast commenced, or the day before the Sabbath of Passover\nWeek?  There are held to be other indications that St. John represents\nthe crucifixion as having taken place the day before the Passover\nbegan, whereas the Synoptists place it the day after (especially John\nxviii. 28, where the question is whether \"the passover\" means the\nPaschal Lamb or the Chagigah, a portion of the feast belonging to the\nsecond day).  On this question there is an extensive literature.  See\nAndrews, 452-81, and Keim, vol. vi., pp. 195-219.\n\n[4] \"To be in too great a hurry to discharge an obligation is itself a\nkind of ingratitude.\"--LA ROCHEFOUCAULD.\n\n[5] Hoffmann says that Jesus refused the intoxicating draught, before\nthe crucifixion began, that His senses might be kept clear; and that\nnow He accepted the refreshing draught for the same purpose.\n\n[6] \"Eli, Eli,\" etc.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nTHE SIXTH WORD FROM THE CROSS[1]\n\nLike the Fifth, the Sixth Word from the Cross is, in the Greek,\nliterally a single word; and it has been often affirmed to be the\ngreatest single word ever uttered.  It may be said to comprehend in\nitself the salvation of the world; and thousands of human souls, in the\nagony of conviction or in the crisis of death, have laid hold of it as\nthe drowning sailor grasps the life-buoy.\n\nSometimes it has been interpreted as merely the last sign of ebbing\nlife: as if the meaning were, It is all over; this long agony of pain\nand weakness is done at last.  But the dying words of Jesus were not\nspoken in this tone.  The Fifth Word, we are expressly told, was\nuttered with a loud voice; so was the Seventh; and, although this is\nnot expressly stated about the Sixth, the likelihood is that, in this\nrespect, it resembled the other two.  It was not a cry of defeat, but\nof victory.\n\nBoth the suffering of our Lord and His work were finishing together;\nand it is natural to suppose that He was referring to both.  Suffering\nand work are the two sides of every life, the one predominating in some\ncases and the other in others.  In the experience of Jesus both were\nprominent: He had both a great work to accomplish and He suffered\ngreatly in the process of achieving it.  But now both have been brought\nto a successful close; and this is what the Sixth Word expresses.  It\nis, therefore, first, the Worker's Cry of Achievement; and, secondly,\nthe Sufferer's Cry of Relief.\n\n\nI.\n\nChrist, when on earth, had a great work on hand, which was now finished.\n\nThis dying word carries us back to the first word from His lips which\nhas been preserved to us: \"Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's\nbusiness?\"  Even at twelve years of age He already knew that there was\na business entrusted to Him by His Father in heaven, about which His\nthoughts had to be occupied.  We cannot perhaps say that then already\nHe comprehended it in its whole extent.  It was to grow upon Him with\nthe development of His manhood.  In lonely meditations in the fields\nand pastures of Nazareth it seized and inspired His mind.  As He\ncultivated the life of prayer, it became more and more His settled\npurpose.  The more He became acquainted with human nature, and with the\ncharacter and the needs of His own age, the more clearly did it rise\nbefore Him.  As He heard and read the Scriptures of the Old Testament,\nHe saw it hinted and foreshadowed in type and symbol, in rite and\ninstitution, in law and prophets.  There He found the programme of His\nlife sketched out beforehand; and perhaps one of His uppermost\nthoughts, when He said, \"It is finished,\" was that all which had been\nforetold about Him in the ancient Scriptures had been fulfilled.\n\nAfter His public life commenced, the sense of being charged with a task\nwhich He had to fulfil was one of the master-thoughts of His life.  It\nwas written on His very face and bodily gait.  He never had the easy,\nindeterminate air of one who does not know what He means to do in the\nworld.  \"I have a baptism,\" He would say, \"to be baptized with, and how\nam I straitened till it be accomplished.\"  In a rapt moment, at the\nwell of Sychar, after His interview with the Samaritan woman, when His\ndisciples proffered Him food, He put it away from Him, saying, \"I have\nmeat to eat that ye know not of,\" and He added, \"My meat is to do the\nwill of Him that sent Me and to finish His work.\"  On His last journey\nto Jerusalem, as He went on in front of His disciples, they were amazed\nand, as they followed, they were afraid.  His purpose possessed Him; He\nwas wholly in it, body, soul and spirit.  He bestowed on it every scrap\nof power He possessed, and every moment of His time.  Looking back now\nfrom the close of life, He has not to regret that any talent has been\neither abused or left unused.  All have been husbanded for the one\npurpose and all lavished on the work.\n\nWhat was this work of Christ?  In what terms shall we express it?  At\nall events it was a greater work than any other son of man has ever\nattempted.  Men have attempted much, and some of them have given\nthemselves to their chosen enterprises with extraordinary devotion and\ntenacity.  The conqueror has devoted himself to his scheme of subduing\nthe world; the patriot to the liberation of his country; the\nphilosopher to the enlargement of the realm of knowledge; the inventor\nhas rummaged with tireless industry among the secrets of nature; and\nthe discoverer has risked his life in opening up untrodden continents\nand died with his face to his task.  But none ever undertook a task\nworthy to be compared with that which engrossed the mind of Jesus.\n\nIt was a work for God with men, and it was a work for men with God.\n\nThe thought that it was a work for God, with which God had charged Him,\nwas often in Christ's mouth, and this consciousness was one of the\nchief sources of His inspiration.  \"I must work the work of Him that\nsent Me while it is day,\" He would say; or, \"Therefore doth my Father\nlove Me, because I do always those things which please Him.\"  And, at\nthe close of His life-work, He said, in words closely related to those\nof our text, \"I have glorified Thee on the earth, I have finished the\nwork which Thou gavest Me to do.\"  This was His task, to glorify God on\nthe earth--to make known the Father to the children of men.\n\nBut just as obviously was it a work for men with God.  This was stamped\non all His words and on the entire tenor of His life.  He was bringing\nmen back to God, and He had to remove the obstacles which stood in the\nway.  He had to roll away the stone from the sepulchre in which\nhumanity was entombed and call the dead to come forth.  He had to press\nHis weight against the huge iron gates of human guilt and doom and\nforce them open.  He had done so; and, as He said, \"It is finished,\" He\nwas at the same time saying to all mankind, \"Behold, I have set before\nyou an open door, and no man can shut it.\"\n\nThe more difficult and prolonged any task is, the greater is the\nsatisfaction of finishing it.  Everyone knows what it is, after\naccomplishing anything on which a great deal of labour has been\nbestowed or the accomplishment of which has been delayed, to be able to\nsay, \"There; it is finished at last.\"  In the more signal efforts of\nhuman genius and energy there is a satisfaction of final achievement\nwhich warms even spectators with sympathy at the distance of hundreds\nof years.  What must it be to the poet, after equipping himself by the\nlabours of a lifetime with the stores of knowledge and the skill in the\nuse of language requisite for the composition of a \"Divine Comedy\" or a\n\"Paradise Lost,\" and after wearing himself lean for many years at his\ntask, to be able at last, when the final line has been penned, to write\nFinis at the bottom of his performance?  What must it have been to\nColumbus, after he had worn his life out in seeking the patronage\nnecessary for his undertaking and endured the perils of voyaging in\nstormy seas and among mutinous mariners, to see at last the sunlight on\nthe peak of Darien which informed him that his dream was true and his\nlifework accomplished?  When we read how William Wilberforce, the\nchampion of Slave Emancipation, heard on his deathbed, a few hours\nbefore he breathed his last, that the British Legislature had agreed to\nthe expenditure necessary to secure the object to which he had\nsacrificed his life, what heart can refuse its tribute of sympathetic\njoy, as it thinks of him expiring with the shouts of emancipated\nmillions in his ears?  These are feeble suggestions of the triumph with\nwhich Christ saw, fallen behind Him, His accomplished task, as He\ncried, \"It is finished.\"\n\n\nII.\n\nIf Jesus had during life a vast work on hand which He was able on the\ncross to say He had finished, He was in quite as exceptional a degree a\nsufferer; yet on the cross He was able to say that His suffering also\nwas finished.\n\nSuffering is the reverse side of work.  It is the shadow that\naccompanies achievement, as his shadow follows a man.  It is due to the\nresistance offered to the worker by the medium in which he toils.\n\nThe life of Jesus was one of great suffering, because He had to do His\nwork in an extremely resistant medium.  His purpose was so beneficent,\nand His passion for the good of the world so obvious, that it might\nhave been expected that He would meet with nothing but encouragement\nand furtherance.  He was so religious that all the religious forces\nmight have been expected to second His efforts; He was so patriotic\nthat it would have been natural if His native country had welcomed Him\nwith open arms; He was so philanthropic that He ought to have been the\nidol of the multitude.  But at every step He met with opposition.\nEverything that was influential in His age and country turned against\nHim.  Obstruction became more and more persistent and cruel, till at\nlength on Calvary it reached its climax, when all the powers of earth\nand hell were combined with the one purpose of crushing Him and\nthrusting Him out of existence.  And they succeeded.\n\nBut the mystery of suffering is very insufficiently explained when it\nis defined as the reaction of the work on the worker.  While a man's\nwork is what he does with the force of his will, suffering is what is\ndone to him against his will.  It may be done by the will of opponents\nand enemies.  But this is never the whole explanation.  Above this\nwill, which may be thoroughly evil, there is a will which is good and\nmeans us good by our suffering.\n\nSuffering is the will of God.  It is His chief instrument for\nfashioning His creatures according to His own plan.  While by our work\nwe ought to be seeking to make a bit of the world such as He would have\nit to be, by our suffering He is seeking to make us such as He would\nhave us to be.  He blocks up our pathway by it on this side and on\nthat, in order that we may be kept in the path which He has appointed.\nHe prunes our desires and ambitions; He humbles us and makes us meek\nand acquiescent.  By our work we help to make a well-ordered world, but\nby our suffering He makes a sanctified man; and in His eyes this is by\nfar the greater triumph.\n\nPerhaps this is the most difficult half of life to manage.  While it is\nby no means easy to accomplish the work of life, it is harder still to\nbear suffering and to benefit by it.  Have you ever seen a man to whom\nnature had given great talents and grace great virtues, so that the\npossibilities of his life seemed unbounded, while he had imagination\nenough to expatiate over them: a man who might have been a missionary,\nopening up dark countries to civilisation and the gospel; or a\nstatesman, swaying a parliament with his eloquence and shaping the\ndestinies of millions by his wisdom; or a thinker, wrestling with the\nproblems of the age, sowing the seeds of light, and raising for himself\nan imperishable monument: but who was laid hold of by some remorseless\ndisease or suddenly crushed by some accident; so that all at once his\nschemes were upset and his life narrowed to petty anxieties about his\nhealth and shifts to avoid the evil day, which could not, however, be\nlong postponed?  And did it not seem to you, as you watched him, to be\nfar harder for him to accept this destiny with a good grace and with\ncheerful submission than it would have been to accomplish the career of\nenterprise and achievement which once seemed to lie before him?  To do\nnothing is often more difficult than to do the greatest things, and to\nsubmit requires more faith than to achieve.\n\nThe life of Christ was hemmed and crushed in on every hand.  Evil men\nwere the proximate cause of this; but He acknowledged behind them the\nwill of God.  He had to accept a career of shame instead of glory, of\nbrief and limited activity instead of far-travelling beneficence, of\npremature and violent death instead of world-wide and everlasting\nempire.  But He never murmured; however bitter any sacrifice might be\non other grounds, He made it sweet to Himself by reflecting that it was\nthe will of His Father.  When the worst came to the worst, and He was\nforced to cry, \"If it be possible, let this cup pass from Me,\" He was\nswift to add, \"Nevertheless not My will, but Thine, be done.\"  And thus\non step after step of the ladder His thoughts were brought into perfect\naccord with His Father's, and His will with His Father's will.\n\nAt last on the cross the cup out of which He had drunk so often was put\ninto His hands for the last time.  The draught was large, black and\nbitter as never before.  But He did not flinch.  He drank it up.  As He\ndid so, the last segment of the circle of His own perfection completed\nitself; and, while, flinging the cup away after having exhausted the\nlast drop, He cried, \"It is finished,\" the echo came back from heaven\nfrom those who saw with wonder and adoration the perfect round of His\ncompleted character, \"It is finished.\"\n\n\nThough these two sides of the life of Christ are separable in thought,\nit is evident that they constitute together but one life.[2]  The work\nHe did involved the suffering which He bore and lent to it meaning and\ndignity.  On the other hand, the suffering perfected the Worker and\nthus conferred greatness on His work.  In His crowning task of atoning\nfor the sin of the world it was as a sufferer that He accomplished the\nwill of God.  And now both are finished; and henceforward the world has\na new possession: it has had other perfect things; but never before and\nnever since has it had a perfect life.\n\n\n\n[1] \"It is finished.\"\n\n[2] Sometimes they are expressed by saying that life is both a Mission\nand a Discipline.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nTHE SEVENTH WORD FROM THE CROSS[1]\n\nWhile all the words of dying persons are full of interest, there is\nspecial importance attached to the last of them.  This is the Last Word\nof Jesus; and both for this reason and for others it claims particular\nattention.\n\nA noted Englishman is recorded to have said, when on his deathbed, to a\nnephew, \"Come near and see how a Christian can die.\"  Whether or not\nthat was a wise saying, certainly to learn how to die is one of the\nmost indispensable acquirements of mortals; and nowhere can it be\nlearnt so well as by studying the death of Christ.  This Last Word\nespecially teaches us how to die.  It will, however, teach us far more,\nif we have the wit to learn: it contains not only the art of dying but\nalso the art of living.\n\n\nI.\n\nThe final word of the dying Saviour was a prayer.  Not all the words\nfrom the cross were prayers.  One was addressed to the penitent thief,\nanother to His mother and His favourite disciple, and a third to the\nsoldiers who were crucifying Him; but prayer was distinctly the\nlanguage of His dying hours.  It was not by chance that His very last\nword was a prayer; for the currents within Him were all flowing\nGodwards.\n\nWhile prayer is appropriate for all times and seasons, there are\noccasions when it is singularly appropriate.  At the close of the day,\nwhen we are about to enter into the state of sleep, which is an image\nof death, the most natural of all states of mind is surely prayer.  In\nmoments of mortal peril, as on shipboard when a multitude are suddenly\nconfronted with death, an irresistible impulse presses men to their\nknees.  At the communion table, when the bread and the wine are\ncirculating in silence, every thoughtful person is inevitably occupied\nwith prayer.  But on a death-bed it is more in its place than anywhere\nelse.  Then we are perforce parting with all that is earthly--with\nrelatives and friends, with business and property, with the comforts of\nhome and the face of the earth.  How natural to lay hold of what alone\nwe can keep hold of; and this is what prayer does; for it lays hold of\nGod.\n\nIt is so natural to pray then that prayer might be supposed to be an\ninvariable element of the last scenes.  But it is not always.  A\ndeath-bed without God is an awful sight; yet it does occur.  The\ncurrents of the mind may be flowing so powerfully earthward that even\nthen they cannot be diverted.  There are even death-beds where the\nthought of God is a terror which the dying man keeps away; and\nsometimes his friends assist him to keep it away, suffering none to be\nseen and nothing to be said that could call God to mind.  Natural as\nprayer is, it is only so to those who have learned to pray before.  It\nhad long been to Jesus the language of life.  He had prayed without\nceasing--on the mountain-top and in the busy haunts of men, by Himself\nand in company with others--and it was only the bias of the life\nasserting itself in death when, as He breathed His last, He turned to\nGod.\n\nIf, then, we would desire our last words to be words of prayer, we\nshould commence to pray at once.  If the face of God is to shine on our\ndeath-bed, we must now acquaint ourselves with Him and be at peace.\nIf, as we look upon the dying Christ or on the dying saints, we say,\n\"Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like\nhis,\" then we must begin now to live the life of the righteous and to\npractise its gracious habits.\n\n\nII.\n\nThe last word of the dying Saviour was a quotation from Scripture.\n\nThis was not the first time our Lord quoted Scripture on the cross: His\ngreat cry, \"My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?\" was likewise\nborrowed from the Old Testament, and it is possible that there is\nScriptural allusion in others of the Seven Words.\n\nIf prayer is natural to the lips of the dying, so is Scripture.  For\ndifferent seasons and for different uses there is special suitability\nin different languages and literatures.  Latin is the language of law\nand scholarship, French of conversation and diplomacy, German of\nphilosophy, English of commerce.  But in the most sacred moments and\ntransactions of life there is no language like that of the Bible.\nEspecially is this the case in everything connected with death.  On a\ntombstone, for example, how irrelevant, as a rule, seem all other\nquotations, but how perfect is the fitness of a verse from Scripture.\nAnd on a death-bed there are no words which so well become the dying\nlips.\n\nThis is strikingly illustrated by the following extract, guaranteed as\nauthentic, from a private diary:--\"I remember, when I was a student,\nvisiting a dying man.  He had been in the university with me, but a few\nyears ahead; and, at the close of a brilliant career in college, he was\nappointed to a professorship of philosophy in a colonial university.\nBut, after a very few years, he fell into bad health; and he came home\nto Scotland to die.  It was a summer Sunday afternoon when I called to\nsee him, and it happened that I was able to offer him a drive.  His\ngreat frame was with difficulty got into the open carriage; but then he\nlay back comfortably and was able to enjoy the fresh air.  Two other\nfriends were with him that day--college companions, who had come out\nfrom the city to visit him.  On the way back they dropped into the\nrear, and I was alone beside him, when he began to talk with\nappreciation of their friendship and kindness.  'But,' he said, 'do you\nknow what they have been doing all day?'  I could not guess.  'Well,'\nhe said, 'they have been reading to me _Sartor Resartus_; and oh! I am\nawfully tired of it.'  Then, turning on me his large eyes, he began to\nrepeat, 'This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that\nJesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief;'\nand then he added with great earnestness, 'There is nothing else of any\nuse to me now.'  I had not opened the subject at all: perhaps I was\nafraid to introduce it to one whom I felt to be so much my superior;\nbut I need not say how overjoyed I was to obtain such a glimpse into\nthe very depths of a great, true mind.\"  _Sartor Resartus_ is one of\nthe best of books; there are few to be so heartily recommended.  Yet\nthere are moments in life--and those immediately before death are among\nthem--when even such a book may be felt to be irrelevant, and, indeed,\nno book is appropriate except the one which contains the words of\neternal life.\n\nIt is worth noting from which portion of the Old Testament Jesus\nfetched the word on which He stayed up His soul in this supreme moment.\nThe quotation is from the thirty-first Psalm.  The other great word\nuttered on the cross to which I have already alluded was also taken\nfrom one of the Psalms--the twenty-second.  This is undoubtedly the\nmost precious of all the books of the Old Testament.  It is a book\npenned as with the life-blood of its authors; it is the record of\nhumanity's profoundest sorrows and sublimest ecstasies; it is the most\nperfect expression which has ever been given to experience; it has been\nthe _vade-mecum_ of all the saints; and to know and love it is one of\nthe best signs of spirituality.\n\nJesus knew where to go in the Bible for the language that suited Him;\nfor He had been a diligent student of it all His days.  He heard it in\nthe home of His childhood; He listened to it in the synagogue; probably\nHe got the use of the synagogue rolls and hung over it in secret.  He\nknew it through and through.  Therefore, when He became a preacher, His\nlanguage was saturated with it, and in controversy, by the apt use of\nit, He could put to shame those who were its professional students.\nBut in His private life likewise He employed it in every exigency.  He\nfought with it the enemy in the wilderness and overcame him; and now,\nin the supreme need of a dying hour, it stood Him in good stead.  It is\nto those who, like Jesus, have hidden God's Word in their hearts that\nit is a present help in every time of need; and, if we wish to stay\nourselves upon it in dying, we ought to make it the man of our counsel\nin living.\n\nIt is worth observing in what manner Jesus made this quotation from the\nPsalter: He added something at the beginning and He omitted something\nat the close.  At the beginning He added, \"Father.\"  This is not in the\npsalm.  It could not have been.  In the Old Testament the individual\nhad not begun yet to address God by this name, though God was called\nthe Father of the nation as a whole.  The new consciousness of God\nwhich Christ introduced into the world is embodied in this word, and,\nby prefixing it to the citation, He gave the verse a new colouring.  We\nmay, then, do this with the Old Testament: we may put New-Testament\nmeaning into it.  Indeed, in connection with this very verse we have a\nstill more remarkable illustration of the same treatment.  Stephen, the\nfirst martyr of Christianity, was in many respects very like his\nMaster, and in his martyrdom closely imitated Him.  Thus on the field\nof death he repeated Christ's prayer for His enemies--\"Lord, lay not\nthis sin to their charge.\"  Also, he imitated this final word, but he\nput it in a new form, \"Lord Jesus, receive my spirit;\" that is, he\naddressed to Christ the dying prayer which Christ Himself addressed to\nthe Father.[2]  The other alteration which Jesus made was the omission\nof the words, \"for Thou hast redeemed me.\"  It would not have been\nfitting for Him to employ them.  But we will not omit them; and if,\nlike Stephen, we address the prayer to Christ, how much richer and more\npathetic are the words to us than they were even to him who first\npenned them.\n\n\nIII.\n\nIt was about His spirit that the dying Saviour prayed.\n\nDying persons are sometimes much taken up with their bodies.  Their\npain and trouble may occasion this, and the prescriptions of the\nphysician may require close attention.  Some display a peculiar anxiety\neven about what is to happen to the body after the life has left it,\ngiving the minutest instructions as to their own obsequies.  Not\ninfrequently the minds of the dying are painfully occupied with their\nworldly affairs: they have their property to dispose of, and they are\ndistracted with anxieties about their families.  The example of Jesus\nshows that it is not wrong to bestow attention on these things even on\na deathbed; for His fifth word, \"I thirst,\" had reference to His own\nbodily necessities; and, whilst hanging on the cross, He made provision\nfor His mother's future comfort.  But His supreme concern was His\nspirit; to the interests of which He devoted His final prayer.\n\nWhat is the spirit?  It is the finest, highest, sacredest part of our\nbeing.  In modern and ordinary language we call it the soul, when we\nspeak of man as composed of body and soul; but in the language of\nScripture it is distinguished even from the soul as the most lofty and\nexquisite part of the inner man.  It is to the rest of our nature what\nthe flower is to the plant or what the pearl is to the shell.  It is\nthat within us which is specially allied to God and eternity.  It is\nalso, however, that which sin seeks to corrupt and our spiritual\nenemies seek to destroy.  No doubt these are specially active in the\narticle of death; it is their last chance; and fain would they seize\nthe spirit as it parts from the body and, dragging it down, rob it of\nits destiny.  Jesus knew that He was launching out into eternity; and,\nplucking His spirit away from these hostile hands which were eager to\nseize it, He placed it in the hands of God.  There it was safe.  Strong\nand secure are the hands of the Eternal.  They are soft and loving too.\nWith what a passion of tenderness must they have received the spirit of\nJesus.  \"I have covered thee,\" said God to His servant in an ancient\nprophecy, \"in the shadow of My hand;\" and now Jesus, escaping from all\nthe enemies, visible and invisible, by whom He was beset, sought the\nfulfilment of this prophecy.\n\nThis is the art of dying; but is it not also the art of living?  The\nspirit of every son of Adam is threatened by dangers at death; but it\nis threatened with them also in life.  As has been said, it is our\nflower and our pearl; but the flower may be crushed and the pearl may\nbe lost long before death arrives.  \"The flesh lusteth against the\nspirit.\"  So does the world.  Temptation assails it, sin denies it.  No\nbetter prayer, therefore, could be offered by a living man, morning by\nmorning, than this of the dying Saviour.  Happy is he who can say, in\nreference to his spirit, \"I know whom I have believed, and I am\npersuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed to Him\nagainst that day.\"\n\n\nIV.\n\nThis last word of the expiring Saviour revealed His view of death.\n\nThe word used by Jesus in commending His spirit to God implies that He\nwas giving it away in the hope of finding it again.  He was making a\ndeposit in a safe place, to which, after the crisis of death was over,\nHe would come and recover it.  Such is the force of the word, as is\neasily seen in the quotation just made from St. Paul, where he says\nthat he knows that God will keep that which he has committed to\nHim--using the same word as Jesus--\"against that day.\" [3]  Which day?\nObviously some point in the future when he could appear and claim from\nGod that which he had entrusted to Him.  Such a date was also in\nChrist's eye when He said, \"Father, into Thy hands I commend my\nspirit.\"  Death is a disruption of the parts of which human nature is\ncomposed.  One part--the spirit--was going away to God; another was in\nthe hands of men, who were wreaking on it their wicked will; and it was\non its way to the house appointed for all living.  But Jesus was\nlooking forward to a reunion of the separated parts, when they would\nagain find each other, and the integrity of the personal life be\nrestored.\n\nThe most momentous question which the dying can ask, or which the\nliving can ask in the prospect of death, is, \"If a man die, shall he\nlive again?\" does he all die? and does he die forever?  There is a\nterrible doubt in the human heart that it may be so; and there have\nnever been wanting teachers who have turned this doubt into a dogma.\nThey hold that mind is only a form or a function of matter, and that,\ntherefore, in the dissolution of the bodily materials, man dissolves\nand mixes with the material universe.  Others, while holding fast the\ndistinction between mind and matter, have taught that, as the body\nreturns to the dust, the mind returns to the ocean of being, in which\nits personality is lost, as the drop is in the sea, and there can be no\nreunion.  There is, however, something high and sacred within us that\nrebels against these doctrines; and the best teachers of the race have\nencouraged us to hope for something better.  Still, their assurances\nhave been hesitating and their own faith obscure.  It is to Christ we\nhave to go: He has the words of eternal life.  He spoke on this subject\nwithout hesitation or obscurity; and His dying word proves that He\nbelieved for Himself what He taught to others.  Not only, however, has\nHe by His teaching brought life and immortality to light: He is Himself\nthe guarantee of the doctrine; for He is our immortal life.  Because we\nare united to Him we know we can never perish; nothing, not even death,\ncan separate us from His love; \"Because I live,\" He has said, \"ye shall\nlive also.\"\n\nIt may be that in a very literal sense we have in the study of this\nsentence been learning the art of dying: these may be our own dying\nwords.  They have been the dying words of many.  When John Huss was\nbeing led to execution, there was stuck on his head a paper cap,\nscrawled over with pictures of devils, to whom the wretched priests by\nwhom he was surrounded consigned his soul; but again and again he\ncried, \"Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit.\"  These were also\nthe last words of Polycarp, of Jerome of Prague, of Luther, of\nMelanchthon, and of many others.  Who could wish his spirit to be\ncarried away to God in a more glorious vehicle?  But, whether or not we\nmay use this prayer in death, let us diligently make use of it in life.\nClose not the book without breathing, \"Father, into Thy hands I commend\nmy spirit.\"\n\n\n\n[1] \"Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit.\"\n\n[2] The first business of the interpreter of Scripture is to find out\nprecisely what every verse or paragraph meant at the time and place\nwhere it was written; and there is endless profit in the exact\ndetermination of this original application.  But, whilst the\ninterpreter's task begins, it does not end with this.  The Bible is a\nbook for every generation; and the deduction of the message which it is\nintended to convey to the present day is as truly the task of the\ninterpreter.  There is a species of exegesis, sometimes arrogating to\nitself the sole title to be considered scientific, by which the garden\nof Scripture is transmuted into an herbarium of withered specimens.\n\n[3] Christ's word is _paratithemai_, and St. Paul's, 2 Tim. i. 12, _ten\nparatheken mou_, according to the best reading.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\nTHE SIGNS\n\nThere are indications that to some of those who took part in the\ncrucifixion of Christ His death presented hardly anything to\ndistinguish it from an ordinary execution; and there were others who\nwere anxious to believe that it had no features which were\nextraordinary.  But God did not leave His Son altogether without\nwitness.  The end of the Saviour's sufferings was accompanied by\ncertain signs, which showed the interest excited by them in the world\nunseen.\n\n\nI.\n\nThe first sign was the rending of the veil of the temple.  This was a\nheavy curtain covering the entrance to the Holy Place or the entrance\nto the Holy of Holies--most probably the latter.  Both entrances were\nthus protected, and Josephus gives the following description of one of\nthe curtains, which will probably convey a fair idea of either; five\nells high and sixteen broad, of Babylonian texture, and wonderfully\nstitched of blue, white, scarlet and purple--representing the universe\nin its four elements--scarlet standing for fire and blue for air by\ntheir colours, and the white linen for earth and the purple for sea on\naccount of their derivation, the one, from the flax of the earth and\nthe other from the shellfish of the sea.\n\nThe fact that the rent proceeded from top to bottom was considered to\nindicate that it was made by the finger of God; but whether any\nphysical means may have been employed we cannot tell.  Some have\nthought of the earthquake, which took place at the same moment, as\nbeing connected with it through the loosening of a beam or some similar\naccident.[1]\n\nAt critical moments in history, when the minds of men are charged with\nexcitement, even slight accidents may assume remarkable\nsignificance.[2]  Such incidents occur at turning-points of the life\neven of individuals.[3]  They derive their significance from the\nemotion with which the minds of observers happen at the time to be\nfilled.  No doubt the rending of the temple veil might appear to some a\npure accident, while in the minds of others it crystallised a hundred\nsurging thoughts.  But we must ascribe to it a higher dignity and a\ndivine intention.\n\nLike the pillar of cloud and fire in the wilderness, it had a double\nface--one of judgment and another of mercy.\n\nIt betokened the desecration of the shrine and the exodus of the Deity\nfrom the temple whose day of opportunity and usefulness was over.  And\nit is curious to note how at the time not only the Christian but even\nthe Jewish mind was big with this thought.  There is a Jewish legend in\nJosephus, which is referred to also by the Roman historian Tacitus,\nthat at the Passover some years after this the east door of the inner\ncourt of the temple, which was so heavy that twenty men were required\nto close it, and was, besides, at the moment strongly locked and\nbarred, suddenly at midnight flew open; and, the following Pentecost,\nthe priests whose duty it was to guard the court by night, heard first\na rushing noise as of hurrying feet and then a loud cry, as of many\nvoices, saying, \"Let us depart from hence.\"\n\nNor was it only in Palestine that in that age the air was charged with\nthe impression that a turning-point in history had been reached, and\nthat the ancient world was passing away.  Plutarch[4] heard a singular\nstory of one Epitherses from the rhetorician Aemilianus, who had it\nfrom the man's father.  On a certain occasion this Epitherses happened\nto be a passenger on board a ship which got becalmed among the\nEchinades.  As it stood near one of the islands, suddenly there came\nfrom the shore a voice, loud and clear, calling Thamus, the pilot, an\nEgyptian, by his name.  Twice he kept silence; but, when the call came\nthe third time, he replied; whereupon the voice cried still louder,\n\"When you come to the Paludes, proclaim that the great Pan is dead.\"\nPan being the god of nature in that ancient world, all who heard were\nterrified, and they debated whether or not they should obey the\ncommand.  At last it was agreed that if, when they came to the Paludes,\nit was windy, they were not to obey, but, if calm, they would.  It\nturned out to be calm; and, accordingly, the pilot, standing on the\nprow of the vessel, shouted out the words; whereupon the air was\nfilled, not with an echo, but the loud groaning of a great multitude\nmingled with surprise.[5]  The pilot was called before the Emperor\nTiberius, who strictly enquired into the truth of the incident.\n\nSuch was the meaning of the rending of the veil on its dark side: it\ndenoted that the reign of the gods was over and that Jerusalem was no\nlonger to be the place where men ought to worship.  But it had at the\nsame time a bright side; and this was the side for the sake of which\nthe incident was treasured by the friends of Jesus.  It meant, as St.\nPaul says, that the wall between Jew and Gentile had been broken down.\nIt meant, as is set forth in the noble argument of the Epistle to the\nHebrews, that the system of ceremonies and intermediaries by which\nunder the Old Testament the worshipper might approach God and yet was\nkept at a distance from Him had been swept away.  The heart of God is\nnow fully revealed, and it is a heart of love; and, at the same time,\nthe heart of man, liberated by the sacrifice of Christ from the\nconscience of sin, as it could never be by the offering of bulls and\ngoats, can joyfully venture into the divine presence and go out and in\nwith the freedom of a child.  \"Having therefore, brethren, boldness to\nenter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way,\nwhich He hath consecrated for us, through the veil--that is to say, His\nflesh--and having a High Priest over the house of God, let us draw near\nwith a true heart in full assurance of faith.\" [6]\n\n\nII.\n\nThe second sign was the resurrection of certain of the dead--\"The\ngraves were opened, and many bodies of the saints which slept arose and\ncame out of the graves after His resurrection, and went into the holy\ncity and appeared unto many.\"\n\nWhether or not the rending of the veil in the temple was connected with\nthe earthquake, there is no doubt that this second sign was.  The\ngraves in Palestine were caves in the rocks, the mouths of which were\nclosed with great stones.  Some of these stones were shaken from their\nplaces by the earthquake; and the bodies themselves, which lay on\nshelves or stood upright in niches, may have been disturbed.  But in\nsome of them a greater disturbance occurred: besides the external\nshaking there took place within them a motion of the life-giving breath\nof God.\n\nIn the minds of many devout scholars this miracle has excited suspicion\non several accounts.  They say it is contrary to the teaching of\nScripture elsewhere, according to which Christ was the firstfruits of\nthem that slept.  If these dead bodies were reanimated at the moment of\nthis earthquake, they, and not He, were the firstfruits.  To this it is\nanswered that St. Matthew is careful to note that they came out of\ntheir graves \"after His resurrection\"; so that St. Matthew still agrees\nwith St. Paul in making Christ the first to rise.  But, then, it is\nasked, in what condition were they between their reanimation and their\nresurrection?  The Evangelist appears to state that they rose from\ndeath to life at the moment of the earthquake, but did not emerge from\nthe tomb till the third day afterwards, when Christ had risen.  Is this\ncredible? or is it an apocryphal marvel, which has been interpolated in\nthe text of St. Matthew?  The other Evangelists, while, along with St.\nMatthew, narrating the rending of the veil, do not touch on this\nincident at all.  The whole representation, it is argued, lacks the\nsobriety which is characteristic of the authentic miracles of the\nGospels and broadly separates them from the ecclesiastical miracles,\nabout which there is generally an air of triviality and grotesqueness.\n\nOn the other hand, there is no indication in the oldest and best\nmanuscripts of St. Matthew that this is an interpolation; and many of\nthe acutest minds have felt this trait to be thoroughly congruous and\nsuitable to its place.  If, they contend, He who had just died on\nCalvary was what He gave Himself out and we believe Him to be, His\ndeath must have excited the profoundest commotion in the kingdoms of\nthe dead.  The world of living men and women was insensible to the\ncharacter of the event which was taking place before its eyes; but the\nworld unseen was agitated as it never had been before and never was to\nbe again.  It was not unnatural, but the reverse, that some of the\ndead, in their excitement and eagerness, should even press back over\nthe boundaries of the other world, in order to be in the world where\nChrist was.  The question where they were or what they were doing\nbetween their reanimation and resurrection is a triviality not worth\nconsidering.  At all events, they rose after their Lord; and was it not\nappropriate that when, after the forty days, He ascended to heaven,\nthere to be received by rejoicing angels and archangels, He should not\nonly appear in the flesh, but be accompanied by specimens of what His\nresurrection power was ultimately to do for all believers?  If it be\nasked who the favoured saints were to whom this blessed priority was\nvouchsafed, we cannot tell.  The dust, however, was not far away of\nmany whom the Lord might delight to honour--patriarchs, like Abraham;\nkings, like David; prophets, like Isaiah.\n\nBut the true significance of this sign is not dependent on such\nspeculations.  Even if it should ever be discovered, as it is not in\nthe least likely to be, that this story was interpolated in St.\nMatthew, and we should be driven to the conclusion that it was invented\nby the excited fancy of the primitive Christians, even then we should\nhave to ask what caused them to invent it.  And the only possible\nanswer would be, that it was the force of the conviction burning within\nthem that by His death and resurrection Christ had opened the gates of\ndeath to all the saints.  This was the glorious faith which was\nbegotten by the experiences of those never-to-be-forgotten days,\nwhether the sight of these resurrected saints played any part or not in\nmaturing it; and it is now the faith of the Church and the faith of\nmankind.\n\nThis may well be called the rending of another veil.  If in the ancient\nworld there was a veil on the face of God, there was a veil likewise on\nthe face of eternity.[7]  The home of the soul was hidden from the\nchildren of men.  They vaguely surmised it, indeed; they could never\nbelieve that they were wholly dust.  But, apart from Christ, the\nspeculations even of the wisest as to the other world are hardly more\ncorrect or certain than might be the speculations of infants in the\nwomb as to the condition of this world.[8]  Christ, on the contrary,\nalways spoke of the world invisible with the freedom and confidence of\none to whom it was native and well known; and His resurrection and\nascension afford the most authentic glimpses into the realm of\nimmortality which the world has ever received.\n\nIn this sign, indeed, it is with the death and not with the\nresurrection that this authentication is connected.  But the\nresurrection of Christ is allied in the most intimate manner with His\ndeath.  It was the public recognition of His righteousness.  Since,\nhowever, He died not for Himself alone, but as a public person, His\nmystical body has the same right to resurrection, and in due time it\nwill be made manifest that, He having discharged every claim on their\nbehalf, death has now no right to detain them.\n\n\nIII.\n\nThe first sign was in the physical world; the second was in the\nunderworld of the dead; but the third was in the common world of living\nmen.  This was the acknowledgment of Christ by the centurion who\nsuperintended His crucifixion.\n\nWhether, like the preceding signs, this third one is to be connected\nwith the earthquake is a question.  Probably the answer ought to be in\nthe affirmative.  The sensation produced by an earthquake is like\nnothing else in nature; and its first effect on an unsophisticated mind\nis to create the sense that God is near.  Probably, therefore, the\nearthquake was felt by the centurion to be the divine Amen to the\nthoughts which had been rising in his mind, and it gave them a speedy\nand complete delivery in his confession.\n\nThis confession was, however, the result of his observation of Jesus\nthroughout His whole trial and the subsequent proceedings; and it is an\neloquent tribute to our Lord's behaviour.  The centurion may have been\nat the side of Jesus from the arrest to the end.  Through those\nunparalleled hours he had observed the rage and injustice of His\nenemies; and he had marked how patient, unretaliating, gentle and\nmagnanimous He had been.  He had heard Him praying for His crucifiers,\ncomforting the thief on the cross, providing for His mother, communing\nwith God.  More and more his interest was excited and his heart\nstirred, till at last he was standing opposite the cross,[9] drinking\nin every syllable and devouring every movement; and, when the final\nprayer was uttered and the earthquake answered it, his rising\nconviction brimmed over and he could not withhold his testimony.\n\nSt. Luke makes him say only, \"This was a righteous man,\" while the\nothers report, \"This was the Son of God.\"  But St. Luke's may include\ntheirs; because, if the centurion meant to state that the claims of\nJesus were just, what were His claims?  At Pilate's judgment-seat he\nhad heard it stated that Jesus claimed to be the Son of God, and\nperhaps he had heard Him make this claim Himself in reply to Pilate's\nquestion.  This name, along with others like it, had been hurled at\nJesus, in his hearing, by those standing round the cross.\n\nBut what did he mean when he made this acknowledgment?  It has been\nheld that all which he, a heathen, could imply was that Jesus was a son\nof God in the sense in which the Greeks and Romans believed Hercules,\nCastor and other heroes to be sons of their deities.  This may be near\nthe truth; but his soul was moved, his mind was opened; and, once in\nthe way, he could easily proceed further in the knowledge of Christ.\nTradition says that his name was Longinus, and that he became bishop of\nCappadocia and ultimately died a martyr.\n\nHave we not here the rending of a third veil?  There is a veil on the\nface of God which requires to be removed; and there is a veil on the\nface of eternity which requires to be removed; but the most fatal veil\nis that which is on the heart of the individual and prevents him from\nseeing the glory of Christ.  It was on the faces of nearly all the\nmultitude that day assembled round the cross.  It was on the faces of\nthe poor soldiers gambling within a few feet of the dying Saviour; in\ntheir case it was a veil of insensibility.  It was on the faces of the\necclesiastics and the mob of Jerusalem; and in their case it was a\nthick veil of prejudice.  The greatest sight ever witnessed on earth\nwas there beside them; but they were stoneblind to it.\n\nThe glory of Christ is still the greatest sight which anyone can see\nbetween the cradle and the grave.  And it is now as near everyone of us\nas it was to the crowd on Calvary.  Some see it; for the veil upon\ntheir faces is rent; and they are transfixed and transformed by the\nsight.  But others are blinded.  How near one may be to Jesus, how much\nmixed up with His cause, how well informed about His life and doctrine,\nand yet never see His glory or know Him as a personal Saviour!  It is\nsaid that people may spend a lifetime in the midst of perfect scenery\nand yet never awake to its charm; but by comes a painter or poet and\ndrinks the beauty in, till he is intoxicated with it and puts it into a\nglorious picture or a deathless song.  So can some remember a time when\nJesus, though in a sense well known, was nothing to them; but at a\ncertain point a veil seemed to rend and an entire change supervened;\nand ever since then the world is full of Him; His name seems written on\nthe stars and among the flowers; He is their first thought when they\nwake and their last before they sleep; He is with them in the house and\nby the way; He is their all in all.\n\nThis is the most critical rending of the veil; because, when it takes\nplace, the others follow.  When we have our eyes opened to see the\nglory of Christ, we soon know the Father also; and the darkness passes\nfrom the face of eternity, because eternity for us is to be forever\nwith the Lord.\n\n\n\n[1] \"May this phenomenon account for the early conversion of so many\npriests recorded in Acts vi. 7?\"--EDERSHEIM.\n\n[2] Shakespeare is very fond of describing the portents by which\nremarkable events are foreshadowed.  Thus, _Julius Caesar_, Act I.\nScene ii.:--\n\n          \"O Cicero,\n  I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds\n  Have rived the knotty oaks; and I have seen\n  Th' ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam,\n  To be exalted with the threatening clouds;\n  But never till to-night, never till now\n  Did I go through a tempest dropping fire.\n  A common slave--you know him well by sight--\n  Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn\n  Like twenty torches joined; and yet his hand,\n  Not sensible of fire, remained unscorched.\n  Besides--I ha' not since put up my sword--\n  Against the Capitol I met a lion,\n  Who glared upon me and went surly by,\n  Without annoying me.  And there were drawn\n  Upon a heap an hundred ghastly women,\n  Transformed with their fear, who swore they saw\n  Men, all in fire, walk up and down the streets.\n  And yesterday the bird of night did sit\n  Even at noonday upon the marketplace,\n  Hooting and shrieking.  When these prodigies\n  Do so conjointly meet, let not men say,\n  'These are their reasons--they are natural,'\n  For I believe they are portentous things\n  Unto the climate that they point upon.\"\n\nSee also Act II., Scene ii., and Act V., Scene i. of the same play;\n_Macbeth_, Act II., Scene ii.; _Hamlet_, Act I., Scene i.  Such\nimpressions are not, however, even in modern times, confined to poetry\nalone.  Historical instances will suggest themselves to every reader.\n\n[3] Some of the most interesting I have read occur in a brief memoir of\nthe founder of the Bagster Publishing Company issued on the centenary\nof its opening.\n\n[4] _De Oraculorum Defectu_, quoted by Heubner in his commentary, _in\nloc_.\n\n[5] _stenagmos ama thaumasmo_.\n\n[6] Heb. x. 19-22.\n\n[7] So the ignorance of immortality is expressly called in the\nbeautiful passage, Isa. xxv. 7.\n\n[8] Sir Thomas Browne, _Hydrotaphia_, chap. iv.: \"A dialogue between\ntwo infants in the womb concerning the state of this world might\nhandsomely illustrate our ignorance of the next, where, methinks, we\nstill discourse in Plato's den, and are but embryo philosophers.\"\n\n[9] _Parestekos ex enantias autou_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\nTHE DEAD CHRIST\n\nIt was not usual to remove bodies from the cross immediately after\ntheir death.  They were allowed to hang, exposed to the weather, till\nthey rotted and fell to pieces; or they might be torn by birds or\nbeasts; and at last a fire was perhaps kindled beneath the cross to rid\nthe place of the remains.  Such was the Roman custom; but among the\nJews there was more scrupulosity.  In their law there stood this\nprovision: \"If a man have committed a sin worthy of death, and he be\nput to death, and thou hang him on a tree, his body shall not remain\nall night upon the tree, but thou shalt in any wise bury him that day\n(for he that is hanged is accursed of God); that thy land be not\ndefiled which the Lord thy God giveth thee for an inheritance.\" [1]\nWhether or not the Jews always tried to get this provision observed in\nexecutions carried out in their midst by their Roman masters, we cannot\ntell; but it was natural that they should do so in reference to\nexecutions carried out in the neighbourhood of the holy city and at\nPassover time.  In the present instance there was the additional\nreason, that the morrow of the execution of Jesus was a high day--it\nwas the Sabbath of the Passover--a kind of double Sabbath, which would\nhave been desecrated by any unclean thing, like an unburied corpse,\nexposed to view.  The Jews were extremely sensitive about such points.\nAt any time they regarded themselves as unclean if they touched a dead\nbody, and they had to go through a process of purgation before their\nsense of sanctity was restored.  But on the occasion of a Passover\nSabbath they would have felt it to be a desecration if any dead thing\nhad even met their eyes or rested uncovered on the soil of their city.\nTherefore their representatives went to the Roman governor and begged\nthat the three crucified men should be put to death by clubbing and\ntheir bodies buried before the Sabbath commenced.\n\nThe suggestion has often been made that, behind this pretended\nscrupulosity, their real aim was to inflict additional pain and\nindignity on Jesus.  The breaking of the bones of the body, by smashing\nthem with clubs, was a peculiarly horrible form of punishment sometimes\ninflicted by the Romans.[2]  It was nearly as cruel and degrading as\ncrucifixion itself; and it was an independent punishment, not conjoined\nwith crucifixion.  But the Jews in this case attempted to get them\nunited, that Jesus, besides being crucified, might, so to speak, die\nyet another death of the most revolting description.  The Evangelist,\nhowever, throws no doubt on the motive which they put forward--namely,\nthat the Passover Sabbath might be saved from desecration--and,\nalthough their insatiable hatred may have made them suggest clubbing as\nthe mode by which His death should be hastened, we need not question\nthat their scruples were genuine.  It is an extraordinary instance of\nthe game of self-deception which the human conscience can play.  Here\nwere people fresh from the greatest crime ever committed--their hands\nstill reeking, one might say, with the blood of the Innocent--and their\nconsciences, while utterly untouched with remorse for this crime, are\nanxious about the observance of the Sabbath and the ceremonial\ndefilement of the soil.  It is the most extraordinary illustration\nwhich history records of how zeal for what may be called the body of\nreligion may be utterly destitute of any connection with its spirit.\nIt is surely a solemn warning to make sure that every outward religious\nact is accompanied by the genuine outgoing of the heart to God, and a\nwarning that, if we love not our brother, whom we have seen, neither\ncan we be lovers of God, whom we have not seen.\n\n\nPilate hearkened to the request of the Jews, and orders were given to\nthe soldiers to act accordingly.  Then the ghastly work began.  They\nbroke the legs of the malefactor on the one side of Jesus, and then\nthose of the other on the opposite side.  The penitent thief was not\nspared; but what a difference his penitence made!  To his companion\nthis was nothing but an additional indignity; to him it was the\nknocking-off of the fetters, that his spirit might the sooner wing its\nway to Paradise, where Christ had trysted to meet him.\n\nThen came the turn of Jesus.  But, when the soldiers looked at Him,\nthey saw that their work was unnecessary: death had been before them;\nthe drooping head and pallid frame were those of a dead man.  Only, to\nmake assurance doubly sure, one of them thrust his spear into the body,\nmaking a wound so large that Jesus, when He was risen, could invite the\ndoubting Thomas to thrust his hand into it; and, as the weapon was\ndrawn forth again, there came out after it blood and water.\n\nSt. John, who was on the spot and saw all this taking place, seems to\nhave perceived in the scene an unusual importance; for he adds to his\nreport these words of confirmation, as if he were sealing an official\ndocument, \"And he that saw it bare record; and his record is true; and\nhe knoweth that he saith true, that ye might believe.\"  Why should he\ninterrupt the flow of his narrative to add these words of assurance?\n\nSome have thought that he was moved to do so by a heresy which sprang\nup in the early Church to the effect that Christ was not really human:\nHis body, it was said, was only a phantom body, and therefore His death\nwas only an apparent death.  In opposition to such a notion St. John\ndirects attention to the realistic details, which prove so conclusively\nthat this was a real man and that He died a real death.  Of course that\nancient heresy has long ceased to trouble; there are none now who deny\nthat Jesus was a man.  Yet it is curious how the tendency ever and anon\nreappears to evaporate the facts of His life.  At the present hour\nthere are eminent Christian teachers in Europe who are treating the\nresurrection of the Lord in very much the same way as these early\nDocetae treated His death--as a kind of figure of speech, not to be\nunderstood too literally.  Against such the Church must lift up the\ncrude facts of the resurrection as St. John did those of the death of\nthe Saviour.[3]  In our generation teachers of every kind are appealing\nto Christ and putting Him in the centre of theology; but we must ask\nthem, What Christ?  Is it the Christ of the Scriptures: the Christ who\nin the beginning was with God; who was incarnated; who died for the\nsins of the world; who was raised from the dead and reigns for\nevermore?  We must not delude ourselves with words: only the Christ of\nthe Scriptures could have brought us the salvation of the Scriptures.\n\n\nWhat excited the wonder of St. John is supposed by others to have been\nthe fulfilment of two passages of the Old Testament Scripture which he\nquotes.  It appeared to be a matter of mere chance that the soldiers,\ncontrary to the intention of the Jews, refrained from breaking the\nbones of Jesus; yet a sacred word, of which they knew nothing, written\nhundreds of years before, had said, \"A bone of Him shall not be\nbroken.\"  It seemed the most casual circumstance that the soldier\nplunged the spear into the side of Jesus, to make sure that He was\ndead; yet an ancient oracle, of which he knew nothing, had said, \"They\nshall look on Him whom they pierced.\"  Thus, by the overruling\nprovidence of God, the soldiers, going with rude unconcern about their\nwork, were unconsciously fulfilling the Scriptures; and those who both\nsaw what they had done and knew the Scriptures recognised the Divine\nfinger pointing out Jesus as the Sent of God.\n\nThe first of these texts is generally supposed[4] to be taken from the\naccount in Exodus of the institution of the Passover, and originally it\nrefers to the paschal lamb, which was to be eaten whole, the breaking\nof its bones being forbidden.  St. John's idea is that Christ was to be\nthe paschal lamb of the New Dispensation, and that therefore Providence\ntook care that nothing should be done to destroy His resemblance to the\ntype, as would have happened if His bones had been broken.  The\nPassover was the great event of the year in all the generations of\nJewish history.  It was intended to carry the minds of God's people\nback to the wonderful scenes of divine grace and power in which their\nexistence as a nation had begun, when God liberated them from their\nbondage and led them out of Egypt with a mighty hand.  The centre of\nthe solemnity was the slaying and eating of the paschal lamb.  This\nreminded them of how in Egypt the blood of this lamb, sprinkled on the\nlintels and doorposts of their huts, saved them from the visit of the\ndestroying angel, who was passing through the land; and how, at the\nsame time, the flesh of the lamb was eaten by the people, with their\nloins girt and staves in their hands, and supplied them with strength\nfor their adventurous journey.  Thus through all ages it impressed on\nthem two things--that the sins of the past required to be expiated, and\nthat strength had to be obtained from above for the new stage of their\nhistory on which at the annual Passover they might be supposed to be\nentering.  In the same way, in the New Dispensation, are our minds ever\nto revert to the marvellous revelation of the grace and saving power of\nGod in which Christianity originated; and in the very midst is the Lamb\nslain, who is both the expiation of the sins that are past and the\nstrength requisite for the conflict and the pilgrimage.  \"If we walk in\nthe light, as He is in the light, we have fellowship one with another,\nand the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin.\"\n\nThe other words of prophecy which appeared to St. John to be fulfilled\non this occasion were, \"They shall look on Him whom they pierced.\"\nThey are from a passage in Zechariah, which is so remarkable that it\nmay be quoted in full--\"And I will pour out on the house of David and\nupon the inhabitants of Jerusalem the spirit of grace and of\nsupplications, and they shall look upon Me whom they have pierced, and\nthey shall mourn for Him, as one mourneth for his only son, and shall\nbe in bitterness for Him, as one that is in bitterness for his\nfirstborn.\"  Jehovah speaks figuratively of the opposition shown to\nHimself and His servants as piercing Him with pain, just as we say of\nan insult that it cuts to the heart.  But in the death of Jesus the\nfigure became a fact: against the sacred person of the Son of God the\nspear was lifted up, and it was driven home without compunction.\nEvidently St. John thinks of this rather as the act of the Jewish\npeople than of the Roman soldier.  But the prophecy speaks not only of\nthe people piercing God, but of their looking at their own work with\nshame and tears.  At Pentecost this began to be fulfilled; and in every\nage since there have been members of the Jewish race who have\nacknowledged their guilt in the transaction.  The full acknowledgment,\nhowever, still lingers; but the conversion of God's ancient people,\nwhen it comes, must begin with this.  Indeed, every human being to whom\nhis own true relation to Christ is revealed must make the same\nacknowledgment.  It was the heart not of a few soldiers or of the\nrepresentatives of a single people, but of the human race, that\nhardened itself against Him.  It was the sin of the world that nailed\nHim to the tree and shed His blood.  Every sinner may therefore feel\nthat he had a hand in it; and it is only when we see our own sin as\naiming at the very existence of God in the death of His Son that we\ncomprehend it in all its enormity.\n\n\nThere have been many who have found the reason for St. John's wonder in\nthe fact that out of the wounded side there flowed blood and water.\n\nFrom a corpse, when it is pierced--at least, if it has been some time\ndead--it is not usual for anything to flow.  But whether St. John\nreflected on this or not we cannot tell.  What fascinated him was\nsimply the fact that the piercing of the body of the Saviour made it a\nfountain out of which sprang this double outflow.  When the rock in the\nwilderness was smitten with the rod of Moses, there issued from it a\nstream which was life to the perishing multitude; but in the double\nstream coming from the side of Jesus St. John saw something better even\nthan that; because to him the blood symbolized the atonement, and the\nwater the Spirit of Christ; and in these two all our salvation lies.[5]\nSo we sing in the most precious of all our hymns,--\n\n  Let the water and the blood\n  From Thy living side which flowed\n  Be of sin the double cure--\n  Cleanse me from its guilt and power.\n\n\nAlthough, however, St. John did not perhaps speculate on the reason why\nthis double outflow took place from the wounded side, others have\noccupied themselves with the question.\n\nSome[6] have considered the phenomenon altogether abnormal, and\nendeavoured to explain it from the peculiarity of our Lord's humanity.\nThough He died.  He was not, like other men, to see corruption; His\nbody was to escape in a few hours, transfigured and glorious, from the\ngrasp of death.  This transforming process, which issued in His\nresurrection, began as soon as He was dead; and the spear-thrust,\nbreaking in on it, so to speak, revealed something altogether unique in\nthe constitution of His body.\n\nOthers, keeping within the limits of ascertained fact, have given a\ntotally different yet a peculiarly interesting explanation.  They have\ndirected attention to the suddenness of Christ's death.  It was usual\nfor crucified persons to linger for days; but He did not survive more\nthan six hours.  Yet immediately before dying He again and again cried\nwith a loud voice, as if His bodily force were by no means exhausted.\nSuddenly, however, with a loud cry His life terminated.  To what could\nthis be due?  It is said that sometimes, under the pressure of intense\nmental and physical agony, the heart bursts; there is a shriek, and of\ncourse death is instantaneous.  We speak of people dying of a broken\nheart--using the phrase only figuratively--but sometimes it can be used\nliterally: the heart is actually ruptured with grief.  Now, it is said\nthat, when this takes place, the blood contained in the heart is poured\ninto a sac by which it is surrounded; and there it separates into two\nsubstances--a clotty substance of the colour of blood and a pure,\ncolourless substance like water.  And, if the sac, when in this\ncondition, were pierced by a spear or any other instrument, there would\nflow out a large quantity of both substances, which would by an\nunscientific spectator be described as blood and water.\n\nIt was by an English medical man that this theory was first propounded\nfifty years ago,[7] and it has been adopted by other medical men,\nequally famous for their scientific eminence and Christian character,\nsuch as the late Professor Begbie and Sir James Simpson.  The latter\nwell brings out the point and the pathos of this view of the Saviour's\ndeath in these words:[8] \"It has always appeared--to my medical mind at\nleast--that this view of the mode by which death was produced in the\nhuman body of Christ intensifies all our thoughts and ideas regarding\nthe immensity of the sacrifice which He made for our sinful race upon\nthe cross.  Nothing can be more striking and startling than the\npassiveness with which, for our sakes, God as man submitted His\nincarnate body to the horrors and tortures of the crucifixion.  But our\nwonderment at the stupendous sacrifice increases when we reflect that,\nwhilst thus enduring for our sins the most cruel and agonising form of\ncorporeal death, He was ultimately slain, not by the effects of the\nanguish of His corporeal frame, but by the effects of the mightier\nanguish of His mind; the fleshly walls of His heart--like the veil, as\nit were, in the temple of His body--becoming rent and riven, as for us\nHe poured out His soul unto death--the travail of His soul in that\nawful hour thus standing out as unspeakably more bitter and dreadful\nthan even the travail of His body.\"\n\nIn this chapter we have been moving somewhat in the region of\nspeculation and conjecture, and we have not rigidly ascertained what is\nlogically tenable and what is not.  This is a place of mystery, where\ndim yet imposing meanings peep out on us in whatever direction we turn.\nWe have called the scene the Dead Christ.  But who does not see that\nthe dead Christ is so interesting and wonderful because He is also the\nliving Christ?  He lives; He is here; He is with us now.  Yet the\nconverse is also true--that the living Christ is to us so wonderful and\nadorable because He was dead.  The fact that He is alive inspires us\nwith strength and hope; but it is by the memory of His death that He is\ncommended to the trust of our burdened consciences and the love of our\nsympathetic hearts.\n\n\n\n[1] Deut. xxi. 22, 23.\n\n[2] \"_Crurifragium_, as it was called, consisted in striking the legs\nof the sufferer with a heavy mallet\"--FARRAR, _Life of Christ_, ii.,\n423.\n\n[3] The words that follow in this paragraph are a reminiscence of a\nsingularly eloquent and powerful passage in a speech of Dr. Maclaren,\nof Manchester, delivered last year in Edinburgh.\n\n[4] Weiss, however, supposes Psalm xxxiv. 20 to be the reference.\n\n[5] On the symbolism of this phenomenon see the excursus in Westcott's\n_Gospel of St. John_, pp. 284-86.\n\n[6] _E.g._, Lange, characteristically.\n\n[7] Stroud in his treatise _On the Physical Cause of the Death of\nChrist_.\n\n[8] Given in Hanna's _The Last Day of our Lord's Passion_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\n\nTHE BURIAL\n\nThere is a hard and shallow philosophy which regards it as a matter of\ncomplete indifference what becomes of the body after the soul has left\nit and affects contempt of all funeral ceremonies.  But the instincts\nof mankind are wiser.  In ancient times it was considered one of the\nworst of misfortunes to miss decent burial; and, although this\nsentiment was mixed with superstition, there was beneath it a healthy\ninstinct.  There is a dignity of the body as well as of the soul,\nespecially when it is a temple of the Holy Ghost; and there is a\nmajesty about death which cannot be ignored without loss to the\nliving.[1]  It is with a sense of pain and humiliation, as if a\ndishonour were being done to human nature, that we see a funeral at\nwhich everything betokens hurry, shabbiness and slovenliness.  On the\ncontrary, the satisfaction is not morbid with which we see a funeral\nconducted with solemnity and chaste pomp.  And, when someone falls\nwhose career has been one of extraordinary achievement and beneficence,\nand who has become\n\n  On fortune's crowning slope\n  The pillar of a nation's hope,\n  The centre of a world's desire,\n\nthen, as the remains are borne amidst an empire's lamentation to rest\n\"under the cross of gold that shines over river and city,\" and the\ntolling bells and echoing cannon sound over hushed London, and the\nsilent masses line the streets, and the learned and the noble stand\nuncovered around the open grave, it would be a diseased and churlish\nmind which did not feel the spell of the pageant.\n\nThus ought the great, the wise and the good to be buried.  How then was\nHe buried whom all now agree to call the Greatest, the Wisest and the\nBest?\n\n\nI.\n\nThe three corpses were taken down towards evening, before the Jewish\nSabbath set in, which commenced at sunset.  Probably the two robbers\nwere buried on the spot, crosses and all, or they were hurriedly\ncarried off to some obscure and accursed ditch, where the remains of\ncriminals were wont to be unceremoniously thrust underground.\n\nThis would have been the fate of Jesus too, had not an unexpected hand\ninterposed.  It was the humane custom of the Romans to give the corpses\nof criminals to their friends, if they chose to ask for them; and a\nclaimant appeared for the body of Jesus, to whom Pilate was by no means\nloath to grant it.\n\nThis is the first time that Joseph of Arimathea appears on the stage of\nthe gospel history; and of his previous life very little is known.\nEven the town from which he derives his appellation is not known with\ncertainty.  The fact that he owned a garden and burying-place in the\nenvirons of Jerusalem does not necessarily indicate that he was a\nresident there; for pious Jews had all a desire to be buried in the\nprecincts of the sacred city; and, indeed, the whole neighbourhood is\nstill honeycombed with tombs.\n\nJoseph was a rich man; and this may have availed him in his application\nto Pilate.  Those who possess wealth or social position or\ndistinguished talents can serve Christ in ways which are not accessible\nto His humbler followers.  Only, before such gifts can be acceptable to\nHim, those to whom they belong must count them but loss and dung for\nHis sake.\n\nJoseph was a councillor.  It has been conjectured that the council of\nwhich he was a member was that of Arimathea; but the observation that\nhe \"had not consented to the counsel and deed of them,\" which obviously\nrefers to the Sanhedrim, makes it more than probable that it was of\nthis august body he was a member.  No doubt he absented himself\ndeliberately from the meeting at which Jesus was condemned, knowing\nwell beforehand that the proceedings would be utterly painful and\nrevolting to his feelings.  For \"he was a good man and a just.\"\n\nWe are, however, told more about him: \"he waited for the kingdom of\nGod.\"  This is a phrase applied elsewhere also in the New Testament to\nthe devout in Palestine at this period; and it designates in a striking\nway the peculiarity of their piety.  The age was spiritually dead.\nReligion was represented by the high-and-dry formalism of the Pharisees\non the one hand and the cold and worldly scepticism of the Sadducees on\nthe other.  In the synagogues the people asked for bread and were\noffered a stone.  The scribes, instead of letting the pure river of\nBible truth flow over the land, choked up its course with the sand of\ntheir soulless commentary.  Yet there are good people even in the worst\nof times.  There were truly pious souls sprinkled up and down\nPalestine.  They were like lights shining here and there, at great\nintervals, in the darkness.  They could not but feel that they were\nstrangers and foreigners in their own age and country, and they lived\nin the past and the future.  The prophets, on whose words they\nnourished their souls, foretold a good time coming, when on those who\nsat in darkness there would burst a great light.  For this better time,\nthen, they were waiting.  They were waiting to hear the voice of\nprophecy echoing once more through the land and waking the population\nfrom its spiritual slumber.  They were waiting, above all, for the\nMessiah, if they might dare to hope that He would come in their days.\n\nSuch were the souls among which both John and Jesus found their\nauditors.  All such must have welcomed the voices of the Baptist and\nhis Successor as at least those of prophets who were striving earnestly\nto deal with the evils of the time.  But whether Jesus was He that\nshould come or whether they should look for another, some of them stood\nin doubt.  Among these perhaps was Joseph.  He was, it is said, a\ndisciple of Jesus, but secretly, for fear of the Jews.  He had faith,\nbut not faith enough to confess Christ and take the consequences.  Even\nduring the trial of Jesus he satisfied his conscience by being absent\nfrom the meeting of the Sanhedrim, instead of standing up in his place\nand avowing his convictions.\n\nSuch he had been up to this point.  But now in the face of danger he\nidentified himself with Jesus.  It is interesting to note what it was\nthat brought him to decision.  It was the excess of wickedness in his\nfellow-councillors, who at length went to a stage of violence and\ninjustice which allowed him to hesitate no longer.  Complete religious\ndecision is sometimes brought about in this way.  Thus, for example,\none who has been halting between two opinions, or, at all events, has\nnever had courage enough openly to confess his convictions, may be some\nday among his fellow-workmen or shopmen, when religion comes up as a\ntopic of conversation and is received with ridicule, Christ's people\nbeing sneered at, His doctrines denied, and He Himself blasphemed.  But\nat last it goes too far the silent, half-convinced disciple can stand\nit no longer; he breaks out in indignant protest and stands confessed\nas a Christian.  In some such way as this must the change of sentiment\nhave taken place in the mind of Joseph.  He had to defy the entire\nSanhedrim; he was putting himself in imminent peril; but he could hold\nin no longer; and, casting fear behind his back, he went in \"boldly\" to\nPilate and begged the body of Jesus.\n\n\nII.\n\nBoldness in confessing Christ is apt to have two results.\n\nOn the one hand, it cows adversaries.  It is not said that Joseph got\nhimself into trouble by his action on this occasion, or that the\nSanhedrim immediately commenced a persecution against him.  They were,\nindeed, in a state of extreme excitement, and they were seventy to one.\nBut sometimes a single bold man can quell much more numerous opposition\nthan even this.  It is certain that the consciences of many of them\nwere ill at ease, and they were by no means prepared to challenge to\nargument on the merits of the case a quiet and resolute man with the\nelevation of whose character they were all acquainted.  It is one of\nthe great advantages of those who stand up for Christ that they have\nthe consciences even of their adversaries on their side.\n\nThe other effect of boldness in confessing Christ is that it brings out\nconfession from others who have not had in their own breast enough of\nfire to make them act, but are heated up to the necessary temperature\nby example.  It seems clear that in this way the example of Joseph\nevoked the loyalty of Nicodemus.\n\nNicodemus was of the same rank as Joseph, being a member of the\nSanhedrim; and he was a secret disciple.  This is not the first time\nthat he appears on the stage of the Gospel history.  At the very\ncommencement of the career of Jesus he had been attracted to Him and\nhad gone so far as to seek a private interview; the account of which is\none of the most precious component parts of the Gospel and has made\ntens of thousands not only believers in Christ but witnesses for Him.\nIt had not, however, as much effect on the man to whom it was\noriginally vouchsafed, though it ought to have had.  Nicodemus ought to\nhave been one of the earliest followers of the Lord; and his position\nwould have brought weight to the apostolic circle.  But he hesitated\nand remained a secret disciple.  On one occasion, indeed, he spoke out:\nonce, when something intolerably unjust was said against Jesus in the\nSanhedrim, he interposed the question, \"Doth our law judge any man\nbefore it hear him and know what he doeth?\"  But with the angry answer,\n\"Art thou also of Galilee?\" he was shouted down; and he held his peace.\nDoubtless, like Joseph, he absented himself from the meeting of the\nSanhedrim at which Jesus was condemned; but the injustice done was so\nflagrant that he was ready to make a public protest against it.  He\nmight not, however, have had the courage of his convictions, had not\nJoseph shown him the way.\n\nYet this must be praised in Nicodemus, that he was a growing and\nimproving man.  Though he hung back for a time, he came forward at\nlast; and better late than never.  It was a happy hour for him when he\nwas brought into contact with Joseph.  There are many circles of\nfriends where all are internally convinced and leaning to the right\nside, and, if only one would come boldly out, the others would\nwillingly follow.  The hands of Joseph and Nicodemus met and clasped\neach other round the body of their Redeemer.  There is no love, or\nfriendship, or fellowship like that of those who are united to one\nanother through their connection with Him.\n\n\nIII.\n\nArt has described the burial of our Lord with great fulness of detail,\ndrawing largely on the imagination.  It has divided it into several\nscenes.[2]\n\nThere is, first, the Descent from the Cross, in which, besides Joseph\nand Nicodemus, St. John at least, and sometimes other men, are\nrepresented as extracting the nails and lowering the body; while\nbeneath the cross the holy women, among whom the Virgin Mary and Mary\nMagdalene are prominent, receive the precious burden.  Many readers\nwill recall the most famous of such pictures, that by Rubens in the\nCathedral at Antwerp--an extremely impressive but too sensuous\nrepresentation of the scene of busy affection--wherein the corpse is\nbeing let down by means of a great white sheet into the hands of the\nwomen, who receive it tenderly, one foot resting on the shoulder of the\nMagdalene.\n\nThen there is what is called the Pieta, or the mourning of the women\nover the dead body.  In this scene the holy mother usually holds the\nhead of her Son in her lap, while the Magdalene clasps His feet and\nothers clasp His hands.  Next ensues the Procession to the Sepulchre;\nand, last of all, there is the Entombment, which is represented in a\ngreat variety of forms.\n\nOn these scenes the great painters have lavished all the resources of\nart; but the narrative of the Gospels is brief and unpictorial.  The\nVirgin is not even mentioned; and, although others of the holy women\nare said to have been there, it is not suggested that they helped in\nthe labour of burial, but only that they followed and marked where He\nwas laid.  Joseph and Nicodemus are the prominent actors, though it is\nreasonable to suppose that they were assisted by their servants; and\nthe soldiers may have lent a hand in disentangling the body.\n\nIt was in a new sepulchre, which Joseph had had hewn out of the rock\nfor himself, in order that after death he might lie in the sacred\nshadow of the city of God, that the Lord was laid.  No corpse had ever\nbeen placed in it before.  This was a great gift to give to an\nexcommunicated and crucified man; and it was a most appropriate one;\nfor it was meet that the pure and stainless One, who had come to make\nall things new and, though dead, was not to see corruption, should rest\nin an undefiled sepulchre.  Similarly appropriate and suggestive was\nthe new linen cloth, which Joseph bought expressly for the purpose of\nenwinding the body.  Nor was Nicodemus behind in affection and\nsacrifice.  He brought \"a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about an hundred\npound weight.\"  This may appear an enormous quantity, but custom was\nvery lavish in such gifts; at the funeral of Herod the Great, for\nexample, the spices were carried by five hundred bearers.\n\nThe tomb was in a garden--another touch of appropriateness and beauty.\nThe spot does not seem to have been far from the place of execution;\nbut whether it was as near as it is represented to have been in the\ntraditional site may well be doubted.  The Church of the Holy Sepulchre\nincludes within its precincts both the Lord's tomb and the hole in the\nrock in which stood His cross; and the two are only thirty yards\napart.[3]  But it is highly questionable whether the identification of\neither is possible.  Still, this may be said to be the most famous bit\nof the entire surface of the globe.  Christendom accepted the\ntradition, which dates from the time of Constantine, and since then\npilgrims have flocked to the spot from every land.  It was for the\npossession of this shrine that the Crusades were undertaken, and at the\npresent day the Churches of Christendom fight for a footing in it.\n\nWe may have no sympathy with the practice of pilgrimages and little\ninterest in the identification of holy places; but the holy sepulchre\ncannot but attract the believing heart.  It was a practice of the piety\nof former days to meditate among the tombs.  The piety of the present\nday inclines to more cheerful and, let us hope, not less healthy\nexercises.  But every man with any depth of nature must linger\nsometimes beside the graves of his loved ones; every man of any\nseriousness must think sometimes of his own grave.  And in such moments\nwhat can be so helpful as to pilgrim in spirit to the tomb of Him who\nsaid, \"I am the resurrection and the life\"?\n\nIn comparison with the great ones of the earth Jesus had but a humble\nfuneral; yet in the character of those who did Him the last honours it\ncould not have been surpassed; and it was rich in love, which can well\ntake the place of a great deal of ceremony.  So at last, stretched out\nin the new tomb, wherein man had never lain, enwrapped in an aromatic\nbed of spices and breathed round by the fragrance of flowers, with the\nwhite linen round Him and the napkin which hid the wounds of the thorns\nabout His brow, while the great stone which formed the door stood\nbetween Him and the world, He lay down to rest.  It was evening, and\nthe Sabbath drew on; and the Sabbath of His life had come.  His work\nwas completed; persecution and hatred could not reach Him any more; He\nwas where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest.\n\n\n\n[1] The most beautiful thing ever said about the bodies of the dead is\nin the Shorter Catechism: \"And their bodies, being still united to\nChrist, do rest in their graves till the resurrection.\"\n\n[2] On these and similar details see _The Life of our Lord as\nexemplified in Works of Art_, by Mrs. Jameson (completed by Lady\nEastlake).\n\n[3] Many interesting details in Ross's _Cradle of Christianity_.","title":"The Trial and Death of Jesus Christ: A Devotional History of Our Lord's Passion","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":71256}