Chapter V · HOLY PERSONS. (continued 5)

On all these grounds, then, I venture to maintain that the spiritual rulers of Judea were not so blameworthy as has been commonly supposed in the execution of Jesus of Nazareth. Judged by the principles of universal morality, they were undoubtedly wrong. Judged by the principles of their own religion, they were no less undoubtedly right.

Subdivision 5.—What did he think of himself?

Having endeavored, as far as our imperfect information will admit, to realize the view that would be taken of Jesus by contemporary Jews, let us seek if possible to realize the view which he took of himself. In what relation did he suppose himself to stand to God the Father? And in what relation to the Hebrew law? What was his conception of his own mission, and of the manner in which it could best be fulfilled?

Though, in replying to these questions, we suffer somewhat from the scarcity of the materials, we do not labor under the same disadvantages as those we encountered in the preceding section. For there we had to judge between two bitterly hostile parties, of which only one had presented its case. And from the highly colored statement of this one party we had to unravel, as best we could, whatever circumstances might be permitted to weigh in favor of the other. Here we have no conflicting factions to obscure the truth. The opinion formed by Jesus of himself has been handed down to us by his own disciples, who, even if they did not perfectly understand him, must at least have understood him far better than anybody else. And if the picture they give us of the conception he had formed of his own office be consistent with itself, there is also the utmost probability that it is true. Especially will this hold good if this conception should be found to differ materially from that not long afterwards framed about him by the Christian Church.

Consider first the idea he entertained concerning his Messianic character, and his consequent relation to God. His conviction that he was the Messiah, who was sent with a divine message to his nation, was evidently the mainspring of his life. It was under this conviction that he worked his cures and preached his sermons. Probably it strengthened as he continued in his career, though of this there is no possible evidence. Possibly, however, the instructions he gave on several occasions to those whom he had healed, and once to his disciples, to tell no man about him, arose from a certain diffidence about the power by which his miracles were effected (E.g., Mk. i. 44; Mt. ix. 30), and a reluctance to accept the honor which the populace would have conferred upon him. However this may be, he certainly put forward his belief on this subject plainly enough, and its acceptance by his disciples no doubt confirmed it in his own mind, while its rejection by the nation at large, especially the more learned portion of it, gave a flavor of bitterness to the tone in which he insisted upon it. The title by which he habitually designates himself is the Son of man. This was, no doubt, selected as a more modest name than "Son of God." The latter was never (if we exclude the fourth Gospel) applied by Jesus to himself, but when applied to him by others, he made no objection to it, but accepted it as his due. The inference from his behavior is, that he liked to be thought the Son of God (as indeed is shown by his eulogy of Peter when that apostle had so described him) (Mt. xvi. 17; vers. 18 and 19 are probably interpolations), but that he did not quite venture to claim the title for himself. That he was ever imagined, either by himself or others, to be the Son of God in the literal, materialistic sense in which the term was afterwards understood, it would be an entire mistake to suppose. No such notion had ever been formulated by the Jewish mind, and it would, no doubt, have filled his earliest disciples with horror. As Mr. Westcott truly observes, "Years must elapse before we can feel that the words of one who talked with men were indeed the words of God" (Canon of New Testament, p. 64). Nor was the Hebrew Jehovah the sort of divinity who would have had a son by a young village maiden. Proceedings of that kind were left to the heathen deities. Nor did Christ, in claiming a filial relationship to God, ever intend to claim unity with the divine essence, still less to assert that he actually was God himself. This notion of identity would receive no sanction even from the fourth Gospel, which does, quite unlike its predecessors, lend some sanction to that of unity in nature. The best proof of this is that Jesus never, at any period of his life, desired his followers to worship him, either as God or as the Son of God. Had he believed of himself what his followers subsequently believed of him, that he was one of the constituent persons in a divine trinity, he must have enjoined his apostles both to address him in prayer themselves, and to desire their converts to address him. It is quite plain that he did nothing of the kind, and that they never supposed him to have done so. Belief in Christ as the Messiah was taught as the first dogma of apostolic Christianity, but adoration of Christ as God was not taught at all. But we are not left in this matter to depend on conjectural inferences. The words of Jesus are plain. Whenever occasion arose, he asserted his inferiority to the Father (as Milton has proved to demonstration),[31] though, as no one had then dreamt of his equality, it is natural that the occasions should not have been frequent. He made himself inferior in knowledge when he said that of the day and hour of the day of judgment no one knew, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son; no one except the Father (Mk. xiii. 32). He made himself inferior in power when he said that seats on his right hand and on his left in the kingdom of heaven were not his to give (Mk. x. 40); inferior in virtue when he desired a certain man not to address him as "Good master," for there was none good but God (Mk. x. 18). The words of his prayer at Gethsemane, "all things are possible unto thee," imply that all things were not possible to him; while its conclusion, "not what I will, but what thou wilt," indicates submission to a superior, not the mere execution of a purpose of his own (Mk. xiv. 36). Indeed, the whole prayer would have been a mockery, useless for any purpose but the deception of his disciples, if he had himself been identical with the Being to whom he prayed, and had merely been giving effect by his death to their common counsels. While the cry of agony from the cross, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" (Mk. xv. 34,) would have been quite unmeaning if the person forsaken and the person forsaking had been one and the same. Either, then, we must assume that the language of Jesus has been misreported, or we must admit that he never for a moment pretended to be co-equal, co-eternal, or con-substantial with God.

Throughout his public life he spoke of himself as one who was sent by God for a certain purpose. What was that purpose? Was it, as the Gentile Christians so readily assumed, to abolish the laws and customs of the Jews, and to substitute others in their stead? Did he, for example, propose to supplant circumcision by baptism? the Sabbath by the Sunday? the synagogue by the church? the ceremonial observances of the law of Moses by observances of another kind? If so, let the evidence be produced. For unless we find among his recorded instructions some specific injunction to his disciples that they were no longer to be Jews, but Christians, we cannot assume that he intended any such revolution. Now, not only can no such injunction be produced, but the whole course of his life negatives the supposition that any was given. For while teaching much on many subjects, he never at any time alludes to the Mosaic dispensation as a temporary arrangement, destined to yield to a higher law. Yet it would surely have been strange if he had left his disciples to guess at his intentions on this all-important subject. Moreover, it came directly in his way when he censured the Pharisees. He frequently accuses them of overlaying the law with a multitude of unnecessary and troublesome rules; but while objecting to these, he never for a moment hints that the very law itself was now to become a thing of the past. Quite the reverse. The Pharisees were very scrupulous about paying tithes and disregarded weightier matters; these, he says, they ought to have done, and not to have left the other undone. If those tithes were no longer to be paid (at least not for the same objects), why does he not say so? Again, he charges them with transgressing the commandment of God by their tradition; where it is the accretions round the law, and not the law itself, which he attacks. In one case he even directly imposes an observance of the legal requirements on a man over whom he has influence (Mk. i. 44). Moreover, he himself evidently continued to perform the obligations of his Jewish religion until the very end of his life, for one of his last acts was to eat the passover with his disciples. The only institution which he apparently desires to alter at all is the Sabbath, and there it is plain that he aims at an amendment in the mode of its observance, not at its entire abolition. Indeed, he justifies his disciples by invoking the example of David, an orthodox Hebrew; and very happily remarks, that the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath—one of his best and most epigrammatic sayings. But an institution made for man was indeed one to be rationally observed, but by no means one to be lightly tampered with. Jesus, in fact, was altogether a Jew, and though an ardent reformer, he desired to reform within the limits of Judaism, not beyond them.

If further proof were needed of this than the fact that he himself neither abandoned the religion of his birth, nor sought to obtain disciples except among those who belonged to it, it would be found in his treatment of the heathen woman whose daughter was troubled with a devil. To her he distinctly declared that he was not sent except to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. In reply to her further persistence, he told her that it was not well to take the children's meat and throw it to dogs. Nothing but her appropriate yet modest answer induced him to accede to her request (Mt. xv. 21-28). Further confirmation is afforded by his instructions to his disciples, whom he desired not to go either to the Gentiles or the Sâmaritans, but to the lost sheep of the house of Israel (Mt. x. 5, 6). His own practice was altogether in conformity with these instructions. He markedly confined the benefits of his teaching to his fellow-countrymen. Once only is he said to have visited the neighborhood of Tyre and Sidon, and then he was anxious to preserve the strictest incognito (Mk. vii. 24). Even when the Jews refused to believed in him, he sought no converts among the Gentiles. He never even intimated that he would receive such converts without their previous adoption of the Jewish faith, and after his decease his most intimate disciples were doubtful whether it was lawful to associate with uncircumcised people (Acts x. 28; xi. 2, 3). Not only, therefore, had he himself never done so, but he had left no instructions behind him that such a relaxation of Jewish scruples might ever be permitted. True, when disappointed among his own people, he now and then contrasted them in unflattering terms with the heathen. Chorazin and Bethsaida were worse than Tyre and Sidon; Capernaum less open to conviction than Sodom (Mt. xi. 20-24). The faith of the heathen centurion was greater than any he had found in Israel (Mt. viii. 10). But all these expressions of embittered feeling imply that it was in Israel he had looked for faith, towards Israel that his desires were turned. To discover faith out of it might be an agreeable surprise, but as a general rule, was neither to be expected nor sought.

Having, then, determined, what the purport of his mission was not, let us try to discover what it was. The quest is not difficult. The whole of his teaching is pervaded by one ever-recurring keynote, which those who have ears to hear it cannot miss. He came to announce the approach of what he termed "the kingdom of heaven." A great revolution was to take place on earth. God was to come, accompanied by Jesus, to reward the virtuous and to punish the wicked. A totally new order of things was to be substituted in lieu of the present unjust and unequal institutions. And Jesus was sent by God to warn the children of Israel to prepare for this kingdom of heaven. There was but little time to lose, for even now the day of judgment was at hand. The mind of Jesus was laden with this one great thought, to which, with him, all others were subordinate. It runs through his maxims of conduct, his parables, his familiar converse with his disciples. Far from him was the notion of founding a new religion, to be extended throughout the world and to last for ages. It was a work of much more immediate urgency which he came to do. "Prepare for the kingdom of heaven, for it will come upon you in the present generation;" such was the burden of his message. Let us hear his own mode of delivering it to men.

The very beginning of his preaching, according to Mark, was in this strain: "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has approached; repent, and believe the Gospel" (Mk. i. 15). Precisely similar is the purport of his earliest doctrine according to Matthew (Mt. iv. 7). How thoroughly he believed that the time was fulfilled is shown by his decided declaration that there were some among his hearers who would not taste of death till they had seen the kingdom of God come with power (Mk. ix. 1), a saying which, as it would never have been invented, is undoubtedly genuine. He told his disciples that Elias, who was expected to precede the kingdom of heaven, had already come (Mk. ix. 13).

Over and over again, in a hundred different ways, this absorbing thought finds expression in his language. The one and only message the disciples are instructed to carry to the "lost sheep of the house of Israel" is that the kingdom of heaven is at hand (Mt. x. 17). When a city does not receive them, they are to wipe off the dust of it against them, and bid them be sure that the kingdom of God is near them (Lu. x. 11). In the coming judgment, Chorazin, Bethsaida, and above all his own place Capernaum, were to suffer more than Tyre and Sidon. Earthly matters assume, in consequence of this conviction of their temporary nature, a very trivial aspect. The disciples are to take no thought for the morrow; the morrow will take thought for itself. Nor are they to trouble themselves about food and clothing, but to seek first the kingdom of God (Mt. vi. 31-34). They are not to lay up treasure on earth, but in heaven, in order that their hearts may be there (Mt. vi. 19-21). Moreover, they must be always on the watch, as the Son of man will come upon them at an unexpected hour. It would not do then to be engaged as the wicked antediluvians were when overtaken by the flood, in the occupations of eating and drinking, or marrying and giving in marriage. Instead of this, they must be like the faithful servant whom his master on returning to his house found watching (Mt. xxiv. 38, 42, 43; Lu. xii. 37, 38). Preparation is to be made for the kingdom which their Father will give them by selling what they have and bestowing alms, so laying up an incorruptible treasure; by keeping their loins girded and their lights burning (Lu. xii. 32). Neglect of these precautions will be punished by exclusion from the joys of the kingdom, as shown in the parable of the ten virgins (Mt. xxv. 1-13). But the indications of the great event are not understood by the people, who are able to read the signs of the coming weather, but not those of the times (Lu. xii. 54-57); an inability which might have been due to the fact that they had had some experience of the one kind of signs and none of the other. On another occasion, he observes that the law and the prophets were till John; since then the kingdom of God has been preached, and every man presses into it (Lu. xvi. 16). Here he specially proclaims himself as the preacher of the kingdom; the man who brought mankind this new revelation. Such was the manner in which this revelation was announced, that some at least of those who heard him thought that the kingdom was to come immediately. To counteract this view he told the parable of the nobleman who went from home to receive a kingdom, leaving his servants in charge of certain monies, and rewarded them on his return according to the amount of interest they had obtained by usury, punishing one of them who had made no use of the sum intrusted to him (Lu. xix. 11-27). He himself, of course, was the nobleman who received his kingdom and returned again to judge his servants. So urgent was the message he had to deliver, that (according to one Evangelist) a man who wished to bury his father before joining him was told to let the dead bury their dead, but to go himself and announce the kingdom of God; while another, who asked leave to bid farewell to his family, was warned that no man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, was fit for that kingdom (Lu. ix. 58-62).

The arrival of the kingdom was to be preceded by various signs. There would be false Christs; there would be wars, earthquakes, and famines; there would be persecutions of the faithful; but the Gospel (that is, the announcement of the approach of this new state of things) must first be published in all nations.[32] Then the sun and moon would be darkened and the stars fall; the Son of man would come in power and glory, and gather his elect from all parts of the earth. The existing generation was not to pass till all these things were done. Not even the Son knew when this would happen; but as it might come suddenly and unexpectedly upon them, they were to be continually on the watch (Mk. xiii.; Mt. xxiv). The apostles would not even finish the cities of Israel before the Son of man had come (Mt. x. 23).

Little is said in description of the nature of the kingdom of heaven except by the method of illustration. The main result to be gathered from numerous allusions to it is that justice is to prevail. Thus, the kingdom of heaven is said to be like a man who sowed good seed in his field, but in whose property an enemy maliciously mingled tares. At the harvest the tares are to be burnt, and the wheat gathered into the barn. This parable Jesus himself explained. The tares are the wicked; the wheat represents "the children of the kingdom." And as tares are burnt, so "the Son of man shall send his angels, and collect from his kingdom all offenses, and those who do wickedness, and shall throw them into the furnace of fire; there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Then the just shall shine out like the sun in the kingdom of their Father." The same idea is expressed in the illustration of the net cast into the sea, which gathers good fish and bad. Just as the fishermen separate these, so the angels at the end of the world will separate the wicked from the midst of the just. Other comparisons represent the influence on the heart of faith in the kingdom. Thus, the kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed, which, though the smallest of seeds, becomes the largest of herbs. Or it is like leaven leavening three measures of meal. Again, it is like treasure hid in a field, or a pearl of great price (Mt. xiii. 24-50).

The best qualification for preëminence in the kingdom was humility.

When asked who was to be greatest in the kingdom of heaven, Jesus replied that it would be he who humbled himself like a little child (Mt. xviii. 1-4). He delights in the exhibition of striking contrasts between the present and the future state of things. The first are to be the last, and the last first. Those who have made great sacrifices now are then to receive vast rewards (Mk. x. 29-31). He who has lost his life for his sake is to find it, and he who has found it is to lose it (Mt. x. 39). The stone rejected by the builder is to become the head of the corner (Mk. xii. 10). The kingdom of God is to be taken from the privileged nation and given to another more worthy of it (Mt. xxi. 43). Publicans and harlots are to take precedence of the respectable classes in entering the kingdom (Mt. xxi. 31). It is scarcely possible for rich men to enter it at all, though God may perhaps admit them by an extraordinary exertion of power (Mk. x. 23-27). Many even who trust in their high character for correct religion will find themselves rejected. But they will be safe who have both heard the sayings of Jesus and done them. They will have built their houses on rocks, from which the storms which usher in the kingdom will not dislodge them. Those, however, who hear these sayings, and neglect to perform them, will be like foolish men who have built their houses on sand, where the storms will beat them down, and great will be their fall (Mt. vii. 22-29). That the kingdom is to be on earth, not in some unknown heaven, is manifest from the numerous references of Jesus to the time when the Son of man will "come;" a time which none can know, yet for which all are to watch. He never speaks of men "going" to the kingdom of heaven; it is the kingdom of heaven which is to come to them. And the most remarkable of the many contrasts will be that between the present humiliation of the Son and his future glory. He will return to execute his Father's decrees. His judges themselves will see him "sitting on the right hand of power, and coming in the clouds of heaven" (Mt. xxvi. 64). Instead of standing as a prisoner at the bar, he will then be enthroned as a judge. "When the Son of man shall come in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he shall sit on the throne of his glory; and all the nations shall be collected before him, and he shall separate them from one another, as the shepherd separates the sheep from the goats; and he shall put the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on his left." The goats, who have done harm, are then to go into everlasting punishment; and the sheep, who have done good, are to pass into eternal life (Mt. xxv. 31-46).

This equitable adjustment of rewards and punishments to merit and demerit is the leading conception in the revolution which the kingdom of heaven is to make. The faithful servant is to be made ruler over his master's goods; the unfaithful one to be cut off and assigned a portion with the hypocrites. The virgins whose lamps are ready burning will be admitted to the marriage festival. The servants who make the best use of the property committed to their charge will be rewarded, while those who have failed to employ it properly will be cast into outer darkness (Mt. xxiv. 42-xxv. 30). So also the wicked husbandmen in the vineyard, who ill treated their master's servants and killed his heir, are to be destroyed when he comes, and the vineyard is to be committed to other cultivators (Mk. xii. 1-9). All those, on the other hand, who have made great sacrifices for the sake of Christ will receive a hundred-fold compensation for all that they have now abandoned (Mt. xix. 29, 30).

Such was the sort of notion—rude, yet tolerably definite—which Jesus had formed of the kingdom his Father was about to found, and for the coming of which he taught his disciples to pray. This hope of a reign of justice, of an exaltation of the lowly and virtuous, and a depression of the proud and wicked, animated his teaching and inspired his life. To make known this great event, so shortly to overtake them, to mankind, was a duty with which in his opinion he had been charged by God; to receive this message at his hands was in his judgment the first of virtues, to spurn it the most unpardonable of crimes.

Subdivision 6.—What did his disciples think of him?

There is on record a remarkable conversation which affords us a glimpse, both of the rumors that were current about Christ among the people, and also of the view taken of him by his nearest friends during his life-time. Jesus had gone with his disciples into the towns of Cæsarea Philippi. On the way, being apparently curious about the state of public opinion, he asked them, "Whom do men say that I am?" To this they replied, "John the Baptist; and some say Elias, and others that thou art one of the prophets." To which Jesus rejoined, "But you, whom say you that I am?" Peter returned the answer, "Thou art the Messiah;" or "Thou art the Messiah, the Son of the living God." It is remarkable that Peter alone is represented as replying to this second question, as if the others had not yet attained to the conviction which this apostle held of the Messiahship of Jesus. Especially would this conclusion be confirmed if we adopted the version of Matthew, where Jesus expresses his high approbation of Peter's answer (Mk. viii. 27-30; Mt. xvi. 13-20). If this apostle was peculiarly blessed on account of his perception of this truth, it may be inferred that his companions had either not yet perceived, or were not yet sure of it. That Peter did not mean by calling him the Messiah to state that he was a portion of the deity himself, is evident from what follows; for Jesus having predicted his future sufferings, "Peter began to rebuke him," anxious to avert the omen. Had he believed that it was God himself with whom he was conversing, he could hardly have ventured to question his perfect knowledge of the future.

The doctrine of the divinity of Christ is not, in fact, to be found in the New Testament. Even the writer of the fourth Gospel, who holds the highest and most mystical view of his nature, does not teach that. Often indeed in that Gospel does Jesus speak of himself as one with the Father. But the dogmatic force of all these expressions is measured by the fact that precisely in the same sense he speaks of the disciples as one with himself. As the Father and he are in one another, so he prays that the disciples may be one in them (Jo. xvii. 21). Moreover, when the Jews charged him with making himself God, he met them by inquiring whether it was not written in their law, "I said, Ye are gods." If, then, those to whom the word of God came were called gods, was it blasphemy in him, whom the Father had sanctified and sent, to say, "I am the Son of God?" (Jo. x. 33-37). Here, then, the term which Jesus appropriates is "Son of God," and this he considers admissible because the Hebrew people generally had been called gods. Evidently, then, he does not admit the charge of making himself God.

The authority of the fourth Gospel is, of course, of no value in enabling us to determine what Jesus said or did, but it is of great value as evidence of the view taken about him by those of his disciples who, at this early period, had advanced the furthest in the direction of placing him on a level with God himself. It is either the latest, or one of the latest, compositions in the New Testament, and it proves that, at the period when its author lived, even the boldest spirits had not ventured on the dogma which afterwards became the corner-stone of the Christian creed.

Throughout the rest of the canonical books, Jesus is simply the Messiah, the Son of God; in whom, in that sense, it is a duty to believe. Whoever believes this much is, according to the first epistle of John, born of God (1 John v. 1).

Clearer still is the evidence that, in the opinion of those most competent to judge, Jesus had no intention of abolishing the observance of the law of Moses. So far were his disciples from imagining that he contemplated any such change, that they were at first in doubt whether it was allowable for them even to relax the rules which forbade social intercourse with heathens. The writer of the Acts of the Apostles, however, informs us that, when an important convert was to be won over from the pagan ranks, Peter had the privilege of a vision which enjoined him not to call anything which God had cleansed common or unclean. Interpreting this to mean that he might associate with the Gentiles, he received the heathen convert, Cornelius, with all cordiality, and even preached the gospel of Jesus to the uncircumcised company by whom he was surrounded. That this was a novel measure is plainly evinced by the fact that the Jewish Christians who were present were astonished that the gift of the Holy Ghost should be poured out upon the Gentiles. They therefore had conceived that Christianity was to be confined to themselves (Acts x).

But there is more direct evidence of the same fact. When Peter returned to Jerusalem, the circumcised believers there found fault with him because he had gone in to uncircumcised men, and had eaten with them. Peter, of course, related his vision in self-defense, and since there was no reply to be made to such an argument as this, they accepted the new and unexpected fact which he announced: "Well, then, God has given repentance to life to the Gentiles also" (Acts xi. 1-18). Paul, who was too strong-minded to need a revelation to teach him the best way of promoting Christian interests, also received heathen converts without requiring them to come under Jewish obligations. But the conduct of these apostles was far from meeting with unmixed approbation in the community. Some men from Judea came to Antioch, where Paul and Barnabas were, and informed the brethren there that unless they were circumcised they could not be saved. So important was this question deemed, that Paul and Barnabas, after much disputing with these Judaic Christians, agreed to go with them to Jerusalem to refer the matter to a council of the apostles and elders. Obviously, then, it was a new case which had arisen. No authoritative dictum of Jesus could be produced. The possibility of having to receive heathens among his disciples was one he had never contemplated. Called to deal with this supremely important question, on which the whole future of the Church turned, the apostles displayed moderation and good sense. Acting on the concurrent advice of Peter, Paul, James, and Barnabas, they wrote to the brethren in Antioch, Syria, and Cilicia, that they had determined to lay no greater burden upon them than these necessary things:—1. Abstinence from meat offered to idols; 2. from blood; 3. from things strangled; 4. from fornication. Hence it will be seen that they absolved the heathen believers from all Jewish observances except two, those that forbade blood and things strangled. These, from long habit and the fixed prejudices of their race, no doubt appeared to them to have some deeper foundation than a mere arbitrary command. These therefore they enjoined even upon pagans (Acts xv. 1-31).

Be it observed, however, that this dispensation applied only to those who were not of Hebrew blood. The apostles and elders assembled at Jerusalem had no thought of dispensing themselves from the binding force of the law of Moses. To observe it was alike their privilege and their duty. They did not conceive that, in becoming Christians, they had ceased to be Jews, any more than a Catholic who becomes a Protestant conceives that he has ceased to be a Christian. The question whether those who had been born Jews should abandon their ancient religion was not even raised at this time among them. The only question was whether those who had not been born Jews should adopt it.

Innovation, however, is not to be arrested at any given point. Liberty having been conceded to the Gentiles, it was not unnatural that some of the apostles, when living among the Gentiles, should take advantage of it for themselves. No overt rule was adopted on this subject. It seems to have been tacitly understood that all Jews should continue to be bound by the rigor of their native customs, except in so far as they had been modified by common consent: and the attempt of some to escape from this burden was an occasion of no small scandal to the more orthodox members of the sect (Acts xxi. 20; Gal. ii. 12). Both Peter and Paul indeed, at separate times, were compelled to make some concessions to the extremely strong feeling in favor of the law which existed at headquarters. The conduct of these two eminent apostles merits examination.

Peter, it appears, never gave up Judaism in his own person; but when staying at Antioch he mixed freely with Gentiles, making no attempt to impose the law upon them, and approving of the proceedings of Paul. It so happened, however, that there came to Antioch some brethren from James at Jerusalem. These men were strict Jews, and Peter was so much afraid of them, that he "withdrew and separated himself" from his former companions. The other Jewish Christians, and even Barnabas, the former friend of Paul, were induced to act in the same way. Paul, who was not likely to lose the opportunity of a little triumph over Peter, ruthlessly exposed his misconduct. According to his account, he publicly addressed him in these terms: "If thou, being a Jew, livest like a Gentile and not like a Jew, why dost thou compel the Gentiles to be like Jews?" (Gal. ii. 11-14.). What answer Peter returned, or whether he returned any, Paul does not inform us. His charge against Peter I understand to be, not that the apostle had positively adopted heathen customs, and then taken up Jewish ones again, but that he had relaxed in his own favor the rules which forbade Jews from eating with Gentiles. On the appearance of the stricter Christians from Jerusalem he put on the appearance of a strictness equal to their own. Such conduct was consistent with the character of the disciple who had denied his master.

Paul himself, on the other hand, was a complete freethinker. Once converted, the system of which he had formerly been the zealous upholder no longer had any power over his emancipated mind. His robust and logical intellect soon delivered him from the fetters in which he had been bound. Far, however, from following his example, the Christians at Jerusalem were shocked at the laxity of his morals. The steps he took to conciliate them are graphically described in the Acts of the Apostles. On visiting the capital, Paul and his companions went to see James, with whom were assembled all the elders; and Paul described the success he had met with among the Gentiles. Hereupon the assembled company, or more probably James as their spokesman, informed Paul what very disadvantageous reports were current concerning him. "Thou seest, brother," they began, "how many thousands of believers there are among the Jews, and all are zealots for the law; and they have been informed of thee that thou teachest the Jews among the Gentiles apostasy from Moses, saying that they should not circumcise their children, nor walk in the customs. What is it, then? It is quite necessary that the multitude should meet, for they will hear that thou art come. Do then this that we tell thee. We have four men who have a vow upon them; take these and be purified with them, and bear the expense with them of having their heads shaven; and all will know that there is nothing in what they have heard about thee, but that thou also walkest in the observation of the law" (Acts xxi. 20-24). This sensible advice was adopted by Paul; and the "zealots for the law," who composed the Christian community at Jerusalem, had the satisfaction of seeing him purify himself and enter the temple with the men under the vow. On a later occasion, too, when charged with crime before Felix, Paul mentioned the fact that twelve days ago he had gone up to worship at Jerusalem, as if he had been an orthodox Jew (Acts xxiv. 11).

But although he might think it expedient to satisfy James and his friends at Jerusalem by a concession to public opinion, the rumor which had reached the brethren there, if unfounded in the letter, was in fact an accurate representation of the inevitable outcome of Paul's teaching. Possibly he did not wish to press his own views upon others of his nation, and therefore did not interfere with such of them as, though living among heathens, yet adhered religiously to their national customs. But unquestionably his own feelings were strongly enlisted in favor of the abolition of the law, and if the Jewish Christians read and accepted his writings, they could hardly fail to adopt his practice. The law in his opinion was no longer necessary for those who believed in Christ. He is not the true Jew who is one outwardly, nor is that the true circumcision which is outward. He is a Jew who is so internally, and circumcision is of the heart in the spirit, not in the letter. If it be asked what advantage the Jew has, Paul replies that he has much: the first of all, that to his nation were confided the oracles of God (Rom. ii. 28, 29, iii. 1, 2). He knows, he says, and is persuaded in the Lord Jesus, that there is nothing unclean in itself, though to him who thinks it so it may be unclean. It is well to abstain from eating flesh or drinking wine, or anything else that may give offense to others, but these things are all unimportant in themselves. One man esteems one day above another; another man esteems them all alike; let each be fully persuaded in his own mind. Only let us not judge one another, nor put stumbling-blocks in one another's way (Rom. xiv).

From these considerations it appears that the suspicions entertained of Paul at Jerusalem were substantially true. Possibly he did not absolutely teach the Jews to abandon the law; possibly he did not even completely abandon it himself. But in his writings he constantly treats it as a thing indifferent in itself; Christians might or might not believe in its obligations, and provided they acted conscientiously, all was well. Along with these very skeptical opinions, however, Paul strongly held to the necessity of worldly prudence. He is very indignant with the "false brethren privily introduced, who slipped in to spy out the liberty we have in Jesus Christ, that they might enslave us; to whom," he adds, "we did not yield by subjection even for an hour" (Gal. ii. 4, 5). But whether the brethren at Jerusalem required him to clear himself from the report that he was not an observer of the law, there came in another principle of action, which he has himself explained with praiseworthy frankness. "To the Jews," he tells the Corinthians, "I became as a Jew, that I might gain the Jews; to those under the law as under the law, not being myself under the law, that I might gain those under the law; to those without law, as without law (not being without law to God, but law-abiding to Christ), that I might gain those without law; to the weak I became weak, that I might gain the weak; I became all things to all men, that by all means I might save some" (1 Cor. ix. 20-22). Acting on this elastic rule, Paul might easily comply with all the demands of James and his zealots. To the Jews he became a Jew for the nonce. It was perhaps in the same spirit of worldly wisdom that he took the precaution of circumcising a young convert who was Jewish only on the mother's side, his father having been a Greek (Acts xvi. 1-3).

While such was the conduct of this strong-minded reformer, it is plain that his attitude towards the law was not shared by the personal friends of Jesus. James at Jerusalem adhered strictly to Judaism. The other apostles, so far as we know, did the same. The rest of the brethren there did the same. Paul was tolerated, and even cordially received, as the apostle of the Gentiles, but it does not appear that he had any following among the Jews. Had any of the original apostles followed him in his bold innovations, he would surely have mentioned the fact, as he has mentioned the partial adhesion of Peter. On the contrary, he seems in his epistles, when attacking the Judaic type of Christianity, to be arguing as much against them as against the unchristian Jews or the heathen.

Stronger evidence than mere inference is, however, obtainable on this point. The Jewish Christians, who had received their doctrines direct from the companions of Jesus, soon came to form a sect apart, and were known by the name of Ebionites. Of these men, Irenæus tells us that "they use the Gospel according to Matthew only, and repudiate the apostle Paul, maintaining that he was an apostate from the law." Moreover, "they practice circumcision, persevere in the observance of those customs which are enjoined by the law, and are so Judaic in their style of life, that they even adore Jerusalem as if it were the house of God" (Adv. Hær. i. 26). It was a strange fate that befell these unfortunate people, when, overwhelmed by the flood of heathenism that had swept into the Church, they were condemned as heretics. Yet there is no evidence that they had ever swerved from the doctrines of Jesus, or of the disciples who knew him in his life-time. Jesus himself had been circumcised, and he certainly never condemned the rite, or spoke of it as useless for the future. He was so Judaic in his style of life that he reverenced the temple at Jerusalem as "a house of prayer for all nations," and deemed it his special duty to purify it from what he regarded as pollution. But the torrent of progress swept past the Ebionites, and left them stranded on the shore.

Should the position here maintained with reference to the Judaic character of the early Christians be thought to require further confirmation, I should find it in the weighty words of a theologian who, while entirely Christian in his views, is also one of the highest authorities on the history of the Church. Neander, speaking of this question, observes that the disciples did not at once arrive at the consciousness of that vocation which Christ (in his opinion) had indicated to them, namely, that they should form a distinct community from that of the Jews. On the contrary, they attached themselves to this community in every respect, and all the forms of the national theocracy were holy to them. "They lived in the conviction that these forms would continue as they were till the return of Christ, by which a new and higher order of things was to be founded; and this change they expected as one that was near at hand. Far from them, therefore, lay the thought of the foundation of a new cultus, even if from the light of belief in the Redeemer new ideas had dawned upon them about that which belonged to the essence of the true adoration of God. They took part as zealously in the service of the temple as any pious Jews. Only they believed that a sifting would take place among the theocratic people, and that the better part of it would be incorporated in their community by the recognition of Jesus as the Messiah" (Neander, Pflanzung der Christlichen Kirche, vol. i. p. 38). Neander proceeds to point out—and here too his remarks are valuable—that the outward forms of Judaism gave facilities for the formation of such smaller bodies within the general body, by means of the division into synagogues. The Christians, therefore, constituted merely a special synagogue, embraced within the mass of believers who all accepted the law of Moses, all worshiped at the temple of Jerusalem. It will be seen, however, that I differ from Neander in so far as he supposes that the members of the Christian synagogue, in adhering to Judaism, were neglecting any indications given by their founder. On the contrary, it appears to me a more reasonable explanation of their conduct that the founder himself had never contemplated that entire emancipation from Judaic forms which was soon to follow.

On these two points, then—the humanity of Jesus and his Judaism—the early history of the Church affords our position all possible support. How is it about the third—his announcement of a kingdom of heaven soon to come? Paul must have derived his doctrine on this point, whatever it was, from those who were disciples of Christ before him, for it does not appear that he had any special revelation on the subject. Let us hear what was the impression made upon his mind by their report of the teaching of Jesus. "We do not wish you to be ignorant, brethren"—so he writes to the Thessalonians—"that you may not grieve like the rest who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, thus also will God bring those who sleep through Jesus. For this we say to you by the word of the Lord" (Paul therefore is speaking with all the authority of his apostolic commission), "that we who are alive and are left for the coming of the Lord shall not take precedence of those who are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with the word of command, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and are left shall be snatched with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and thus we shall always be with the Lord" (1 Thess. iv. 13-17). Clearer than this it is difficult to be. There can be no question whatever, unless we put an arbitrary significance on these words, that Paul looked for the second coming of Christ and the final judgment long before the existing generation had passed away. Some will fall asleep before that day, but he fully expects that he himself and many of those whom he is addressing will be alive to witness it. So confident is he of this, that he even describes the order in which the faithful will proceed to join their Lord, the dead taking a higher rank than the living. He differs from Jesus, and probably from the other apostles, in placing the kingdom of heaven somewhere in the clouds, and not on earth. But he entirely agrees with them as to the date of the revolution. Quite consistent with the above passage is another (of which, however, the correct reading is doubtful): "We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed."

Filled with the like hope, he prays that the spirit, mind, and body of the Thessalonians may be preserved blameless to the coming of Christ (1 Thess. v. 23). And he comforts them in a subsequent letter by the promise that they who are troubled shall have "rest with us in the revelation of the Lord Jesus from heaven with the angels of his power" (2 Thess. i. 7). While, in writing to the Corinthians, he speaks of the existing generation as those "upon whom the ends of the ages have come."

Not less clear is the language of the other apostles. Peter on that memorable day of Pentecost when the apostles exhibit the gift of tongues, and some irreverent spectators are led to charge them with inebriety, explains to the assembly that the scene which had just been witnessed was characteristic of the "last days," as foretold by the prophet Joel. In those days their sons and their daughters were to prophesy, their young men to see visions, and their old men to dream dreams; the Spirit was to be poured out on God's servants and handmaidens; there were to be signs and wonders; blood, fire, and smoke; the sun was to be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood; and whoever called on the name of the Lord was to be saved. Thus Peter, than whom there could be no higher authority as to the mind of Christ, applied to his own time the prophetic description of the "day of the Lord" given by Joel (Acts ii. 14-21). James exhorts his disciples not to be in too great a hurry for the arrival of Christ. They are to imitate the husbandman waiting for the ripening of his crops. "Be you also patient: confirm your hearts; for the coming of the Lord draws near" (James v. 7, 8). The author of the first epistle of Peter distinctly informs the Christian community that "the end of all things is at hand." And he warns them not to think it strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try them, "but rejoice, inasmuch as you share in the sufferings of Christ; that in the revelation of his glory you may also rejoice with exceeding joy" (1 Pet. iv. 7, 12, 13). Further on he promises that when the chief Shepherd appears, they shall receive "the unfading crown of glory" (1 Pet. v. 4). In the first epistle of John the disciples are thus exhorted: "And now, little children, remain in him, that when he comes we may have boldness, and may not be ashamed before him at his coming" (1 Jo. ii. 28).

In the next chapter he tells them that, "when he appears we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is" (1 Jo. iii. 2). Of the Apocalypse it cannot be necessary to speak in detail. The one great thought that inspires it from beginning to end is that of the speedy return of Jesus, accompanied as it will be by the judgment of the wicked, the reward of the faithful, and the establishment of a new heaven and a new earth far more glorious and more beautiful than those that are to pass away. The end of the book is conclusive as to its meaning: "I, Jesus, have sent my angel to testify these things to you in the churches." "He that testifies these things says, 'Surely I come quickly. So be it; come, Lord Jesus'" (Rev. xxii. 16, 20).

There is another passage bearing on this subject, which, as it appears to have been written at a later date than any of those hitherto quoted, may best be considered last. It is found in the second epistle attributed to Peter. The epistle was probably written after the first generation of Christians had passed away, but the forger endeavors to assume the style of the apostle whose name he borrows. From the language he employs it is evident that there was some impatience among believers in his day on account of what seemed to them the long delay in the second coming of Christ. Scoffers had arisen, who were putting the awkward question, "Where is the promise of his coming? for since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the beginning of creation." Such scoffers, he tells them, are to come "in the last days," and he warns them how to resist the influence of their specious arguments. For this purpose he reminds them of the former destruction of the earth by water, and assures them that the present heavens and the present earth are to be destroyed by fire. They are not to let the consideration escape them that with the Lord one day is a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day. Hence God is not really slow about fulfilling his promise, as some people believe; he is only waiting out of kindness, not being willing that any should perish, but desiring that all should come to repentance. But the day of the Lord will come unexpectedly, like a thief in the night; wherefore the Christians who are looking for new heavens and a new earth, according to his promise, must take care to be ready that they may be found by him spotless and blameless (2 Pet. iii). Here, then, we have a further proof of the hopes entertained by the early Christians; for this writer, who evidently felt that the promises held out by the original apostles were in danger of being discredited by the long delay in the expected catastrophe, concerns himself to show that the postponement of its arrival is not after all so great as it may seem, and seeks to dispel the doubts that had grown up concerning it. He thus bears important testimony to the nature of the expectations entertained by those who had gone before him.

But even if we had not this epistle, we should find some evidence of the same fact in the writings of the earliest fathers. Thus, in the first epistle of Clement, the Christians are warned in the following language:—

"Far from us be that which is written, 'Wretched are they who are of a double mind and of a doubting heart;' who say, 'These things we have heard even in the time of our fathers; but behold, we have grown old and none of them has happened unto us!' Ye foolish ones! compare yourselves to a tree; take [for instance] the vine. First of all it sheds its leaves, then it buds, next it puts forth leaves, and then it flowers; after that comes the sour grape, and then follows the ripened fruit. Ye perceive how in a little time the fruit of a tree comes to maturity. Of a truth, soon and suddenly shall his will be accomplished, as the Scripture also bears witness, saying, 'Speedily will he come, and not tarry;' and, 'The Lord shall suddenly come to his temple, even the Holy One, for whom ye look'" (First Ep. of Clement, ch. xxiii.—A. N. L., vol. i. p. 24).

Further on, the same writer expressly states that what the apostles of Christ preached was the speedy advent of the new order of things. "Having therefore received their orders, and being fully assured by the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ, and established in the word of God, with full assurance of the Holy Ghost, they went forth proclaiming that the kingdom of God was at hand" (Ibid., ch. xli.—A. N. L., vol. i. p. 37). Here, then, we have authority of this very early writer for the statement that such was the view taken of the mission of Jesus by his original disciples.

Again, in the second epistle of Clement, this expression occurs:—"Let us expect, therefore, hour by hour, the kingdom of God in love and righteousness, since we know not the day of the appearing of God" (Second Ep. of Clement, ch. xii.—A. N. L., vol. i. p. 62). Thus it appears that the apostles received from Jesus, and the early Christians from the apostles, the doctrine that the return of the Messiah in his glory would take place soon.

Subdivision 7.—What are we to think of him?

We come now to the most important question of all, namely, what opinion the evidence we possess should lead us to form of the moral character of Jesus, and of the value of his teaching. In considering this subject, we are met at the threshold of the inquiry by the extreme difficulty of discarding the traditional view which has gained currency among us. Not only believers in the Christian religion, but freethinkers who look upon Christ as no more than an extraordinary man, have united to utter his praises in no measured terms. His conduct has been supposed to present an ideal of perfection to the human race, and his aphorisms to embody the supreme degree of excellence and of wisdom. Some critics, not being Christians, have even gone so far as to assume that whatever items in his reported language or behavior seemed to reflect some discredit upon him could not be genuine, but must be due to the imaginations of his disciples.

All this unbounded panegyric naturally raises in the minds of critics who have freed themselves from the accepted tradition a slight prejudice against him, and this may lead them to regard his errors with too unsparing a severity, and to mete out scant justice to the merits he may really possess. No task can be less easy than that of approaching this question with a mind entirely devoid of bias on the one side or on the other. For my own part, I shall endeavor, if I cannot attain perfect impartiality, at least neither to praise nor to blame without adequate reason.

Before proceeding, however, it may be well to state that I shall not attempt to discriminate between the authentic and the unauthentic utterances of Jesus, but shall take for granted that his reporters—excluding the fourth Evangelist—have in the main reported him correctly. No doubt this position is not strictly true. There must be errors, and there may be grave errors in the record, since those who transmitted the language of their master trusted only to memory. But it is on the whole much more likely that the parables, sermons, and short sayings ascribed to Jesus represent with some approach to fidelity what he really said, than that they, or any considerable portion of them, were invented by any of his disciples afterwards. They have, moreover, a characteristic flavor which it would have been difficult for a forger to give to the fictitious utterances he might have added to the genuine remains. It is, however, a question of minor import whether the synoptical writers are or are not faithful reporters. Jesus is presented to our admiration by them as the Son of God, and as a pattern of virtue and of wisdom. Therefore, even if we are not criticising a portrait from life, we are at least criticising the ideal portrait which they have held up as an object of worship, and which Christendom has accepted as such.

Omitting (as already considered) those very considerable portions of his doctrine which refer to himself and to his kingdom, we may proceed to the more strictly ethical elements which are to be found scattered about in his instructions to his hearers, sometimes contained in those striking parables which, following the habit of his nation, he was fond of relating; sometimes in the short, clear, and incisive sentences of which he was a master. In considering the value and originality of his views, it will be of advantage to compare them, where we can, with those of other great teachers of mankind.

Perhaps one of the most conspicuous peculiarities is his fondness for impressive contrasts. He has a peculiar pleasure in contemplating the reversal of existing arrangements. The first are to be last; the humble exalted; the poor preferred to the rich; the meanest to become the greatest, and so forth. Strangely similar to this favorite idea, so continually making its appearance in his moral forecasts, is the language frequently used by his Chinese predecessor Laò-tsé, who in more than one respect greatly resembles him. Thus Jesus tells his disciples that he who is greatest among them shall be their servant, and that he who exalts himself shall be abased, while he who humbles himself shall be exalted (Mt. xxiii. 10, 11). Elsewhere he declares that if any man desire to be first, he shall be last, and servant of all (Mk. ix. 35). Presenting a child, to render his lesson the more impressive, he tells them that he who humbles himself like this little child is greatest in the kingdom of heaven (Mt. xviii. 4). Exactly in the same tone Laò-tsé observes that "the holy man places himself behind, and comes to the front; neglects himself and is preserved" (T. t. k., ch. vii). Heaven, according to the same sage, does precisely as Jesus expects his Father to do in the kingdom of heaven. "It lowers the high, it raises the low. The way of heaven is to diminish what is superfluous, to complete what is deficient. The way of man is not this; he diminishes what is deficient to add it to what is superfluous" (T. t. k., ch. lxxvii).

On the same subject of humility, an opinion of the philosopher Mang, or Mencius, may be compared with one of Christ's. There was a strife among the disciples of the latter which should be accounted the greatest. Christ said: "The kings of the earth have dominion over them, and they who have authority over them are called benefactors. But be not you so: but let the greater among you be as the younger, and he that leads as he that serves" (Lu. xxii. 25, 26). Now Mang in like manner warns his disciples against the craving for authority. "Mencius said: 'The superior man has three things in which he delights, and to be ruler over the empire is not one of them. That his father and mother are both alive, and that the condition of his brothers affords no cause for anxiety;—this is one delight. That, when looking up, he has no occasion for shame before heaven; and below, he has no occasion to blush before men;—this is a second delight. That he can get from the whole empire the most talented individuals, and teach and nourish them;—this is the third delight. The superior man has three things in which he delights, and to be ruler over the empire is not one of them'" (Mang, vii. 1, 20.—C. C., vol. ii. p. 334). This definition of the pleasures of the high-minded man is quite equal of its kind to anything that has been said on the same subject by Jesus. It is true that Mang ranges over a somewhat wider field, and that therefore the sentences just quoted do not admit of exact comparison with anything coming from Jesus. But while both agree in reprobating the desire to exercise power, Mang goes beyond Jesus in proposing to substitute other interests for that of political ambition. And these interests are of the best kind. His "superior man" rejoices in the prosperity of his family, in the consciousness of his innocence of any disgraceful conduct, and in his opportunities of teaching those who are most worthy of his instructions and most likely to carry on his work. The latter is a pleasure which is rarely mentioned, and it shows much thoughtfulness on the part of the philosopher to have upheld it as an object in life.

Curiously enough, another Chinese sage has anticipated another of the best points in the doctrine of Jesus. Jesus enjoined his hearers not to practice charity in a public and ostentatious manner, like the hypocrites, "but when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth" (Mt. vi, 3). In this admirable maxim he would have had the support of all true Confucians, for one of their canonical writers had also told them that "it is the way of the superior man to prefer the concealment of his virtue, while it daily becomes more illustrious, and it is the way of the mean man to seek notoriety, while he daily goes more and more to ruin" (C. C., i. 295.—Chung Yung, ch. xxxiii. 1).

On another question, that of the admonition of an erring friend, Jesus gave an opinion which is in perfect accord with an opinion given by Confucius. If a man's brother trespass against him, he is first, according to Jesus, to take him to task in private; should that fail, to call in two or three witnesses to hear the charge; and should the offender still be obdurate, to inform the Church.[33] If his impenitence continue even after this, he is to become to him "as a heathen and a publican" (Mt. xviii. 15-17). Turning to the conversations of Confucius, we find the following:—"Tsze-kung asked about friendship. The Master said, 'Faithfully admonish your friend, and kindly try to lead him. If you find him impracticable, stop. Do not disgrace yourself'" (Lun Yu, b. xii. ch. 33.—C. C., i. 125). The steps inculcated by the two teachers are, making allowance for difference of country, almost identical.

The thoughts as well as the language of Jesus are often reproduced with singular fidelity in the sacred works of Buddhists. As the Buddha is, on the whole, the prophet whose character approaches most closely to that of Jesus, so we are almost certain to find in the literature of Buddhism nearly all the most exalted features of his ethical teaching. Thus Jesus praises the poor widow who contributes her mite to the temple treasury, because she has given all that she had. In one of the numerous legends supposed to have been related by Sakyamuni an exactly similar incident occurs. A former Buddha was traveling through various countries, accompanied by his attendant monks. The rich householders presented them with all kinds of food as offerings. A poor man, who had no property whatever, and lived by collecting wood in the mountains and selling it, had gained two coins by the pursuit of his industry. Perceiving the Buddha coming from a visit to the royal palace, he devoutly gave him these two coins; his sole possession in the world. The Buddha received them, and mercifully remembered the donor, who (as Sakyamuni now explained) was richly rewarded during ninety-one subsequent ages (W. u. Th., p. 53). The widow's mite is no less closely reflected in the following anecdote from the same collection. In the time of a former Buddha, a certain monk belonging to his train had gone out to collect the offerings of the pious. He arrived at the hut of a miserable couple, who had nothing between them but an old piece of cotton-wool. When the husband went out to beg, the wife sat at home naked in the hay; and when the wife went out, the husband remained in the same condition. To these people then the monk approached, crying out as usual, "Go and prostrate yourself before Buddha! present him with gifts!" It happened that the wife was wearing the cotton-wool on this occasion. She therefore requested the holy man to wait a little, promising to return. Hereupon she entered the house and requested the permission of her husband to offer the cotton-wool to Buddha. He, however, pointed out that as they had not the smallest property beyond this, extreme inconvenience would result from the loss of it, for both of them must then remain at home. To this she replied that they must needs die in any case, and that their hopes for the future would be much improved if they died after presentation of an offering. She then returned to the monk, and requested him to turn away his eyes a moment. But he told her to give her alms openly in her hands, and that he would then recite a benediction over them. The full delicacy of her situation had now to be explained. "Except this cotton-wool stuff on my body I have nothing, and no other clothing; since, then, it would be improper for thee to behold the foul-smelling impurity of the female body, I will reach thee out the stuff from within." So saying she retired into the house and handed out her garment. When the monk delivered it to Buddha, it caused great offense to the king's courtiers, who surrounded him, on account of its being old and dirty. But Buddha, who knew their thoughts, said, "I find, that of all the gifts of this assembly, no single one surpasses this in cleanliness and purity" (W. u. Th., p. 150).

Not only in the case of the widow at the treasury did Jesus dwell upon the value of even trifling gifts made for the sake of religion. Another time he declared to those about him that whoever gave them a cup of cold water in his name, because they belonged to Christ, would not lose his reward. In Buddhist story the very same ideas are to be found; almost the same words. An eminent member of the Buddha's circle says that "whoever with a purely-believing heart offers nothing but a handful of water, or presents so much to the spiritual assembly or to his parents, or gives drink therewith to the poor and needy, or to a beast of the field;—this meritorious action will not be exhausted in many ages" (W. u. Th., p. 37).

The simile of fishing for men, employed by Jesus in his summons to Simon and Andrew, is likewise to be discovered in the works of the great Asiatic religion. The images of the Bodhisattvas, or Buddhas yet to come, frequently hold in their hands a snare, which is thus explained in the Nippon Pantheon:—"He disseminates upon the ocean of birth and decay the Lotus-flower of the excellent law as bait; with the loop of devotion, never cast out in vain, he brings living beings up like fishes, and carries them to the other side of the river, where there is true understanding" (B. T., p. 213). And in the book from which some illustrations have already been taken, it is said of a believer that "he had been seized by the hook of the doctrine, just as a fish, who has taken the line, is securely pulled out" (W. u. Th., p. 114).

Hitherto we have noticed a few of the minor points in the doctrine of Jesus, and while there has been little in these to object to, there has also been little to excite excessive admiration. The extreme exaltation of humility, and the evident anxiety to see, not equality of conditions, but a reversal of the actual inequalities, are not among the best features of his ideal system. We cannot but suspect something of a personal bias. Thus, in the parable of the Pharisee and the publican, aimed at a hostile and detested order, the publican is justified by nothing but his humility; while in that of Lazarus and Dives, Lazarus is eternally rewarded for nothing but his poverty. It is no doubt well to be humble, and we should be glad to see poverty removed; but it is not to be assumed that the Pharisee, conscious of leading an honorable life, is therefore a bad man; nor that the rich proprietor should be tormented in hell merely because he does not give alms to all the beggars who throng about his gates. When Jesus desires that virtuous actions should be done as quietly and even as secretly as possible, he inculcates an important principle of morals, and it is devoutly to be wished that we had among us more of this unconspicuous kindness, and less ostentatious charity. Where, however, he preaches on the virtue of bestowing alms on his disciples, he does but echo a sentiment which is natural to religious teachers in all ages, and to which, as we have seen, the emissaries of another and earlier faith, were equally alive. Passing from these comparatively trifling questions, let us consider some of his decisions on the greater moral problems with which he felt called upon to deal.

On a vast social subject—that of divorce—he pronounced an opinion which gives us a little insight into his mode of regarding that most important of all topics, the relations of the sexes. The Pharisees, it appears, came to him and asked him whether it was permissible for a man to put away his wife, Moses having allowed it. Jesus explained that this precept had been given for the hardness of their hearts. His own view was, that man and wife are one flesh, and that if either should leave the other, except on account of unfaithfulness, and marry again, that one would be guilty of adultery. This severe doctrine he supported by one of his short sayings: "What God hath joined together, let not man put asunder" (Mk. x. 1-12; Mt. xix. 1-12, and v. 31, 32). But surely this judgment assumes the very point at issue. The joining together in wedlock is ascribed to God; the putting asunder to man. But granting the sacredness of the marriage tie, it would still be no less possible to invoke the divine sanction for its dissolution than for its original formation. And in many instances the maxim might be exactly reversed. So unfortunate is the result of many marriages, that it would be easy for a religious reformer to say of them, with perfect sincerity, "What man hath joined together, let God put asunder." There is, in fact, almost as much to be said on moral grounds for the divorce of unhappy couples as for the marriage of happy ones. Nor does Jesus by any means face the real difficulties of the question by allowing divorce where either of the parties has been guilty of adultery. This, no doubt, is the extreme case, and if divorce is not to be given here, it can be given nowhere. But why is adultery to be the sole ground of separation? Why is an institution which may bring so much happiness to mankind to be converted into one of the most fertile sources of human misery? Why, when both parties to the contract desire separation, is an external authority, whether that of opinion or of law, to enforce union? None of these questions appear to have presented themselves to the mind of Jesus. Supposing even that his decision were right, he assigns no reasons for it, but simply lays down the law in a trenchant manner, without giving us the least clue to the process by which he arrived at so strange a conclusion. Nor is it in the least likely that the many perplexities encompassing this, and all other questions affecting the morals of sex, had ever troubled him. His mind was not sufficiently subtle to enter into them; and thus it is that, throughout the whole course of his career, he lays down no single doctrine (if we except this one on divorce) which can be of the smallest service to his disciples in the many practical troubles that must beset their lives from the existence of a natural passion of which he takes no account.

Another weak point in the system of Jesus is his aversion to wealth and wealthy men, apart from the consideration of the good or bad use they may make of their property. Thus, the only advice he gives to the rich man who had kept all the commandments was to sell everything he had and give the proceeds to the poor; a measure of very questionable advantage to those for whose benefit it is intended. When the man naturally declined to take this course—practically a mere throwing off of the responsibilities of life—Jesus remarked that it was hard for those who had riches to enter the kingdom of God. Seeing the amazement of his disciples, he emphasized his doctrine by adding that it was easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter that kingdom. Hereupon his disciples, "excessively astonished," asked who then could be saved, and Jesus left a loophole for the salvation of the rich by the declaration that, impossible as it might be for men to pass a camel through a needle's eye, all things are possible with God (Mk. x. 17-27). A like animus against the wealthier classes is evinced in the story of the king who invited a number of guests to a wedding festivity. Those who had received invitations made light of them, one going to his farm, another to his merchandise, and so forth; or, according to another version, alleging their worldly affairs as excuses. Seeing that they would not come, the king bade his servants go out into the highways, and bring in whomsoever they might find; or, as Luke puts it, the poor, the maimed, the halt, and the blind (Mt. xxii. 1-10; Lu. xiv. 16-24).

More indiscriminately still is this aversion to the rich expressed in the parable of Lazarus and Dives. Here we are not told that the great proprietor had been a bad man, or had acted with any unusual selfishness. The utmost we may infer from the language used about him is that he had not been sufficiently sensitive to the difference between his own condition and that of the beggar. But no positive unkindness is even hinted at. Nor had the beggar done anything to merit reward. He had only led one of those idle and worthless lives of dependence on others which are too common among Southern nations. Yet in the future life the beggar appears to be rewarded merely because in this life he had been badly off; and the rich man is punished merely because he had been well off (Lu. xvi. 19-25). A stronger instance of apparently irrational prejudice it would be difficult to find.

In connection with these notions about wealth there is a curious theory of social intercourse deserving to be considered. Jesus has expressed it thus: "When thou makest a supper or a dinner, do not invite thy friends, or thy brothers, or thy relations, or thy rich neighbors, lest they also should invite thee in return, and thou shouldst have a recompense. But when thou makest a feast, invite the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind; and thou shalt be blessed because they have not the means of making thee a recompense. For thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just" (Lu. xiv. 12-14). Nobody can object to charitable individuals asking poor people or invalids without rank to dinner at their houses; indeed, it is to be wished that the practice were more common than it is. But we cannot admit that this kind action ought to be rendered obligatory, to the exclusion of other modes of conduct. Society, properly speaking, cannot exist except by reciprocity. That sort of friendly intercourse between equals which constitutes society implies giving and taking; and it is eminently desirable that we should do exactly what Christ would forbid us doing, namely, invite our neighbors and be invited by them as circumstances may require. The fear that we may receive a recompense for the dinner-parties we may give is surely chimerical. Pleasantness and mutual advantage are alike promoted by this reciprocity, which, moreover, avoids the discomfort produced when the obligation is wholly on one side. Jesus, in fact, overlooks entirely the more intellectual side of society, and dwells exclusively on the moral side. What he wishes to establish, is not converse between men, but charity. So that a person acting on his views would be excluded from the society of those who might benefit him either materially or morally, and would be confined to those whom he might benefit. Such an arrangement would not in the end be good either for the benefactors or the benefited.

His conceptions of justice are seemingly not more perfect than his conceptions of social arrangements. The parable of the laborers is intended to justify the deity in assigning equal rewards to those who have borne unequal burdens, and also to illustrate his doctrine that the first will be last, and the last first. A householder hires a number of laborers to work in his vineyard; some of whom he engages in the morning, others later in the day, others towards its close. All of them receive a denarium in payment, though some had worked the whole day, and others only an hour. At this result the class which had worked the longer time grumble; but the householder defends himself by appealing to the strict terms of his contract, by which he had bound himself to give the same wages to all (Mt. xx. 1-16). No doubt the laborers who had borne the burden and heat of the day had no legal standing-point for their complaint; but the sentiment that prompted it was none the less a just one. Granting the validity of the master's plea that he had honorably fulfilled his bargain, it may still be urged that the bargain itself was not of an equitable character. Plainly, a sum which is adequate pay for an hour, is inadequate for ten or twelve; and that which is sufficient for a day is excessive for an evening. And the same argument applies to a future state. If, as is so often urged, it is to be a compensation for the sufferings of this state, then it ought to bear some proportion to those sufferings. But how can this be effected? Jesus saw the difficulty, and endeavored, but not successfully, to meet it by this parable.

But the imperfection of his sense of justice is nowhere more conspicuously shown than in the conduct he ascribes to God. To recur again to the case of Lazarus and Dives. Not only is the rich man punished with frightful torture, but his humble and kindly request that Lazarus might be allowed to warn his five brothers of their possible fate is met with a peremptory refusal. The only reason alleged for this cruelty is that they have Moses and the prophets, who certainly did not inform them that the mere possession of wealth or enjoyment of luxury was punished by everlasting misery (Lu. xvi. 27-31). In other places, too, the horrible doctrine of unending punishment is asserted by Jesus, and all the efforts of his modern disciples will not explain away this fact. The tares are to be bound up in bundles to be burnt. The wicked are to be cast into a furnace of fire, where there will be wailing and gnashing of teeth (Mt. xiii. 30, 42, 50). It is better to enter into life mutilated than to be thrown unmutilated into the fire (Mt. xviii. 8, 9) of hell which is never quenched (Mk. ix. 43-46). The servant who had made no money by usury is cast into outer darkness (Mt. xxv. 30). The righteous go into eternal life; the wicked to eternal punishment (Mt. xxv. 46). Blasphemy against the Holy Ghost cannot be forgiven, but involves eternal damnation (Mk. iii. 29). It is almost needless to observe that no wickedness could ever justify punishment without an end; that is, punishment for punishment's sake; and that the creation of human beings whose existence terminated in torture would be itself a far more terrible crime than any which the basest of mankind can ever commit.

There is one more point as to which his teaching will not bear investigation. It is the doctrine of the power of prayer. He tells his hearers, in the most absolute manner, that they will receive whatever they may ask in prayer, provided they believe (Mk. xi. 24; Mt. xxi. 22). Faith is the grand and sole condition of the accomplishment of all desires. This is the explanation of the withered fig-tree. It was faith that had wrought the change. By faith the disciples might effect not only such matters as the destruction of fig-trees, but far more stupendous miracles (Mt. xxi. 19-21). This is the explanation of the disciples' failure with the lunatic child. It was owing to their want of faith. Had they but faith as a grain of mustard seed—so Jesus told them—they would be able to say to a mountain, "Remove hence thither," and it would be removed. Nothing would be impossible to them (Mt. xvii. 20). And if they had faith themselves, if they really believed in their master's words, and ever attempted the experiment of working such transformations in nature, they must have experienced the bitter disappointment so graphically described by the authoress of "Joshua Davidson" in the case of that sincere Christian. But short of this extreme trial of the power of faith over matter, many generations of pious believers will bear sad witness to the fact that they have asked many things in prayer which they have not received; not least among the number being moral excellence, which they have but imperfectly attained. Yet this, it would seem, might be the most easily granted without interference with the physical universe. And if it be pleaded that no Christian has ever really succeeded in acquiring the degree of faith required to move mountains, what becomes of the promise of Jesus? Is it not a mere form of words, depending for its truth on a condition which human nature never can fulfill?

The opinions of Jesus on the question of the lawfulness of the tribute, and his reply to the Sadducean difficulty about due adjustment of matrimonial relations in a future state, have been already noticed. Neither of these decisions, it has been shown, can be regarded as evincing wisdom or depth of thought. On the other hand, his answer to the scribe who asked him which was the first commandment fully deserves the approbation which his questioner bestowed. After this, remarks the Evangelist triumphantly, no man dared to interrogate him. Passing from these isolated judgments, let us consider now the fullest exposition to be found anywhere of the moral system of Jesus,—the so-called Sermon on the Mount (Mt. v.-vii. inclusive). As reported by Matthew, this is a vast collection of precepts on many different subjects, delivered no doubt on many different occasions. Taken together, they contain the concentrated essence of his teaching, and offer therefore the fairest field for discussion and criticism. He opens his discourse with a series of blessings, in which his extreme fondness for contrasting the present with the future order is markedly exhibited. Those whom he selects as the objects of benediction are the poor in spirit; mourners; the meek; those who hunger and thirst after righteousness; the merciful; the pure in heart; the peace-makers; those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake; the disciples when reviled, persecuted, and unjustly accused. Of the nine classes of those who are thus blessed, five are composed of those whose present condition makes them objects of pity, and who are consoled with the assurance that they shall be rewarded in the kingdom of heaven. After this, the followers of Jesus are admonished that they are the salt of the earth, and that they must cause their light to shine before men. This is followed by that remarkable declaration (already noticed) as to the permanence of the law, and by a warning that, if they wished to enter the kingdom of heaven, their righteousness must exceed that of those odious people, the scribes and Pharisees.

Hereupon Jesus takes up three great commandments—not to kill, not to commit adultery, not to commit perjury—and proceeds to expand their meaning beyond the literal signification of the words. Thus, it had been said, "Thou shalt not kill." But he says, that whoever is angry with his brother shall be liable to the judgment; that whoever says "Raka" to his brother shall be liable to the Sanhedrim; but that whoever says "Fool," shall be liable to hell, or literally, to "the gehenna of fire." The punishment is of undue severity in proportion to the offense; but when, in the following verses, Jesus insists on the importance of doing justice to men before performing religious obligations, he speaks in the truest spirit of humanity. Proceeding to the commandment not to commit adultery, he enjoins an excess of self-discipline. It is not desirable to pluck out the right eye and cut off the right hand because they offend us, though it is well to train them to obey the higher faculties. The argument of Jesus rests only on the assumption that the sinful members, if not destroyed by such violent measures as this, may land the whole body in hell. Dealing next with the question of oaths, he enlarges the prohibition of perjury into a prohibition of all swearing whatsoever, assigning the strangest reasons for avoiding the employment, when taking oaths, of the names of various objects. They are not to swear by heaven, because it is God's throne; nor by the earth, because it is his footstool; nor by Jerusalem, because it is the city of the great king; nor by the head, because we cannot make a single hair black or white. Granting even that the advice is good, what is to be said of these reasons? What would be thought of a Member of Parliament using an exactly parallel argument: namely, that it is wrong to swear by the New Testament, because the person taking the oath cannot make a single type larger or smaller?

The theory embodied in the following verses occupies so cardinal a place in the philosophy of Jesus, that in order to do him justice they must be quoted at length. "You have heard that it has been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. But I tell you not to resist evil; but whoever shall smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And as for him who wishes to sue thee, and take thy coat, give him thy cloak also. And whoever shall compel thee to go one mile, go two with him. Give to him that asketh thee; and turn not away from him that wishes to borrow of thee. You have heard that it has been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor and hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, and pray for them who persecute you, that you may be sons of your father in heaven; for he causes his sun to rise on bad and good, and sends rain on just and unjust" (Mt. v. 38-45).

Perhaps there is no single point in the moral teaching of Jesus which has been more celebrated than this. It is thought to represent the very acme of perfection, and Christianity takes credit to itself for the embodiment of so magnificent a doctrine in its moral system. And certainly the words of Jesus are so sublime as almost to extort admiration and disarm criticism. Nor would it at all detract from his merits if the principle here laid down should turn out to be no new discovery of his own, but one already reached by great teachers in other lands; for it was through him that it was made known to the Jews of his own age, and thus to the whole of Christendom. Moreover, we cannot suppose that he had ever heard of those who had anticipated the sentiments, and almost the words, of these beautiful sentences in the Sermon on the Mount. Nevertheless, these anticipations exist; and whatever glory this rule may confer on the religion of Christ must belong equally, and even by prior right, to the religion of Lao-tsze and the religion of Buddha. Thus Lao-tsze says, "Return enmity by doing good" (T. t. k., 63). Or again, "I treat the good man well; the man who is not good I also treat well" (Ibid., 49). The very perfection of patience under injustice, extending to the length of blessing those who curse, and turning the other cheek to those who smite the one—is exhibited in the old Buddhistic legend of Pûrna. Pûrna is a convert who spontaneously betakes himself as a missionary to a savage nation. The Buddha asks him what he will do if they address him in coarse and insolent language. He replies that he will consider them good and gentle people not to strike him with their fists or stone him. Should they strike him with their fists or stone him, he will still think them good and gentle neither to strike him with sticks or swords; should they strike him with sticks or swords, he will equally praise them for not killing him; should they even kill him, he will still say, "They are certainly good people, they are certainly gentle people, they who deliver me with so little pain from this body full of impurity" (H. B. I., p. 253). This is certainly a most consistent application of the principle of non-resistance to evil, and of loving one's enemies. No Christian saint or martyr could have followed his master's precepts more faithfully than this Buddhist apostle. But whether those precepts admit of general adoption into the scheme of human morals is a much more difficult question than whether in occasional instances here and there they have led to admirable conduct. Let us call in another Chinese philosopher to our assistance on this point.

The doctrine of returning good for evil, proclaimed, as we have seen, by Lao-tsze, was thus dealt with by his great rival, Confucius. "Some one said, 'What do you say concerning the principle that injury should be recompensed with kindness?' The Master said, 'With what, then, will you recompense kindness? Recompense injury with justice, and recompense kindness with kindness.'" How shall we decide between these authorities? None can question the nobility of the conduct enjoined by Jesus in certain instances. There are cases where the return of good for evil, of blessing for cursing, of benevolence for persecution, is not only the highest practicable virtue, but also the best punishment of the evil-doers. Nevertheless, there is great force in the observations of Confucius. If we are to reward injury by kindness, how are we to reward kindness? Is there to be no difference made between those who do us good and those who do us harm? To so pertinent a question we are compelled to answer that the practical results of such conduct on our part would be simply disastrous. Unkindness would not receive its natural and appropriate penalty, nor kindness its natural and appropriate reward. Not only should we ourselves be losers by our failure to resist injustice, but the worst classes of mankind would receive by that non-resistance a powerful stimulus to evil. Imagine, for example, that, instead of opposing an extortionate claim, we give up our cloak also to the man who wishes to take our coat. Plainly such conduct can have but one result. We shall become the victims of extortionate claims, and our property will be squandered among the undeserving instead of being kept for better uses. Or suppose that persecution for the sake of our opinions, instead of being met with armed resistance, wherever that resistance is likely to be successful, is received only with blessings showered on the heads of the oppressors; without doubt, the hands of the persecuting party will be strengthened, and liberty, which is everywhere the result of resisting evil, will never be established. The freedom we ourselves enjoy, both as a nation in respect of other nations, and as individuals in respect of our domestic government, is the consequence of acting on a principle the direct reverse of that laid down by Jesus. Our ancestors, who were good Christians but much better patriots, would have been amazed indeed at any attempt to persuade them to turn the left cheek to him who smote them on the right. A doctrine more convenient for the purposes of tyrants and malefactors of every description it would be difficult to invent.