The Gospel of St. John Part 14

I cannot read this story without feeling that, among those things in heaven and earth that are so to be restored, the sympathies and affections of the family are some of the chief. I know not why St.

John should have dwelt so much upon the sorrow of the sisters of Lazarus, and upon Christ's feeling for them, if he had not meant us to understand this. Martha, I suppose, thought before she came to Jesus, that her brother would ascend some time or other on angels' wings into a place somewhere above the stars; but that all the threads which, from their childhood upwards, had been winding round them and binding them to each other, should be broken; that the a.s.sociations of home should cease for ever. I am sure she learnt a different lesson after she had seen her brother again, and had understood the declaration, '_I am the resurrection and the life_.' Then she will have known that if, in the resurrection, 'they neither marry nor are given in marriage,'--if no fresh ties are formed like those which bind us together on earth,--yet that the old relations.h.i.+ps, the old affections, are to have a new and higher life. What is sown in corruption is raised in incorruption; what is sown in weakness is raised in strength; what is sown a natural relations.h.i.+p is raised a spiritual. But in this case, as in every other, the change does not alter the substance of that which has been, only brings it forth in its might and purity.

Towards this resurrection all creation is groaning and travailing. And that groan which burst from Christ at the grave of Lazarus, was the expression of His sympathy in that groan of His creatures; even as His own travail hour, in the garden, on the cross, in the tomb of Joseph, showed that the path of the Shepherd is the same as that of the sheep, to victory and rest. Why cannot we enter into His sufferings? why cannot we look forward hopefully to His triumph? There are some fearful words in the text I have taken to-day--fearful in the midst of all their consolation--which explain the secret. It is said, '_He that_ BELIEVETH _in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live_.' Do we not feel sometimes as if all power of believing in anything that is great and n.o.ble were departing from us? Do we not feel as if to believe in Him who is goodness and truth, were the hardest effort of all? Does it not appear as if a second death were coming upon us,--a death of all energy, of all trust, of all power to look beyond ourselves? Oh, if this numbness and coldness have overtaken us, or should overtake us,--if we should be tempted to sit down in it and sink to sleep,--let the cry which awakened Lazarus awake us. Let us be sure that He who is the resurrection and the life is saying to each of us, however deep the cave in which he is buried, '_Come forth!_'

however stifling the grave-clothes with which he is bound, '_Loose him, and let him go!_'

DISCOURSE XXI.

THE DEATH FOR ALL NATIONS.

[Lincoln's Inn, 5th Sunday after Trinity, June 22, 1856.]

ST. JOHN XI. 49, 50.

_And one of them, named Caiaphas, being the high priest that same year, said unto them, Ye know nothing at all, nor consider that it is expedient for us, that one man should die for the people, and that the whole nation perish not._

We naturally ask ourselves why Caiaphas should have taken this tone in speaking to his colleagues in the Sanhedrim? What did he wish them to do which they had not shown themselves ready to do? Had they not sent officers to take Jesus? Had they not encouraged the impulse of some amongst His hearers to stone him, if they had not issued a formal decree that He should be stoned? The explanation lies, I think, in the fact that Caiaphas was a Sadducee. It might be straining the words, '_Then gathered the chief priests_ AND _the Pharisees a council_,' to conclude from them that the priests in general were not Pharisees. But there are other good reasons for thinking that the accession of Caiaphas to the office of High Priest marks the commencement of a Sadducean ascendency. Now, the views of these schools respecting Jesus, however they might ultimately coincide, must have been determined by their other opinions. The Sadducees will have been much more disposed to regard Him as a fanatic than as a blasphemer; they will have dreaded His doctrine much less than the belief of His kings.h.i.+p among the mult.i.tude; consequently, they may have thought the experiment of putting Him to death by stoning very unwise. It was making a trial of their native jurisdiction which was, at least, hazardous; it might lead both to a tumult among their countrymen, and to interference from their masters. In the council which was held after the raising of Lazarus, it is evident that the indignation against Jesus for '_making Himself equal with G.o.d_,'--even the indignation at a Galilaean for pretending to be a prophet--has been merged in the fear, lest if '_they let Him alone, the Romans should destroy both their place and nation_.' Caiaphas takes advantage of the feeling, by whomsoever it may have been expressed, to state and defend his own policy. '_Ye know nothing at all_'--'you who are trying to punish Him by your own laws. You do not consider that if we are in the danger you apprehend, "_it is expedient that one man should die for the people_:" that we should give Him up to the Romans, as a rebel against them; gulping down our scruples about our dignity and our reluctance to ask aid from the Caesar for crus.h.i.+ng an enemy, rather than that "_the whole nation_" should "_perish_," through our obstinacy in maintaining an ancient and doubtful privilege.'

This was genuine Sadducean language,--precisely what one would expect to come from such a mouth. But it was also triumphant language. The Pharisee must yield to it, or else forego the gratification of his own chief desire. He might very much have preferred to a.s.sert Jewish law.

He might have been willing to run some risk in enforcing it. To do otherwise was to stoop to the maxims of a sect which he detested. But a compromise was the only possible course. By adopting it, he could ensure a general agreement among the rulers in bringing about the death of Jesus at the next Pa.s.sover. And there would be some compensation. The death would be more ignominious than the national customs would have made it. We are told, therefore, that '_from that day forth they took counsel to put Him to death_.' There was now no division, either about the end or the means. Pilate was to be the judge; the death they were to aim at was the death of the Cross.

Such, I suppose, was what Caiaphas himself understood by the words, '_It is expedient for us that one man should die for the nation, and that the whole nation perish not_.' A narrow meaning enough,--one in which there was nothing of patriotism, in the vulgarest sense of that word. Caiaphas would save his nation by binding the chains of foreign domination more strictly upon it; he would put on a new badge of slavery, that it might be permitted to exist. But then, as now, men utter words--made, as they think, to fit an occasion--intended to express only some paltry device of their minds--which are pregnant with a signification that ages unborn will confess and wonder at. St.

John does not say to his Ephesian readers or to us,--'_We_ can see another force in the words of the High Priest than that which he put on them; _we_ can translate them in our way and to our use.' But he says, 'There _was_ that force in them always.' Caiaphas had not the power to contract his speech to the dimensions of his wit. '_Being high priest that year, he prophesied._' The grandeur of the office, which had witnessed the relation of G.o.d to His people for fourteen hundred years, manifested itself through the poor creature, who could look no further than the expediency of the moment; to whom the past and the future were as nothing. He who believed in no angel or spirit was compelled to be the spokesman of the Divine Word, even when he was plotting His death. Strange and awful reflection! And yet so it must be,--so experience shows us continually that it is. Our words are not our own,--we are not lords over them, whatever we may think. Is it not well for us to ask who is Lord over them; how such terrible instruments--so immeasurably more terrible than swords or rifles--may be used lawfully, for the protection, and not the destruction, of our brethren; how we may be the willing, and not merely, like Caiaphas, the unconscious, proclaimers of a Divine purpose; how we may execute it by obeying it, not by the crimes which strive, vainly, to defeat it?

Caiaphas prophesied, says St. John, that '_Jesus should die for that nation; and not for that nation only, but that also He should gather together in one the children of G.o.d which were scattered abroad_.' It is not chiefly the form of the High Priest's sentence which suggests this thought to him; he does not play upon the words of it. The proposition, that Jesus should not be tried for violating Jewish law, but should be given up as a treasonable subject of Rome, involved the breaking down of barriers between the nations. The cross was emphatically a message to mankind,--to all tribes and races within the circle of the empire that had appointed this punishment for rebels and slaves. It is a thought which possessed the minds of all the apostles,--of none more than St. John. The cross was to do what the eagle had tried to do. It was to bind men in one society. I shall not dwell upon the words that announce that doctrine here, because it forms the most prominent subject in the following chapter of which I am going to speak. We shall find, I think, that every discourse and narrative in it is penetrated with the idea of crucifixion. So it becomes the suitable close to the records of our Lord's public ministry,--the right preface to those private interviews of which St.

John is the only historian.

We are now arrived at the point in which the narratives of the different Evangelists coincide. All the others lead us from Galilee to Jerusalem at this Pa.s.sover. St. John, who has taken us so often to Jerusalem at other feasts before, yet prepares us, by many significant intimations, to feel the special grandeur of the present.

'_Jesus therefore walked no more openly among the Jews; but went thence unto a country near to the wilderness, into a city called Ephraim, and there continued with His disciples. And the Jews'

pa.s.sover was nigh at hand; and many went out of the country up to Jerusalem before the pa.s.sover, to purify themselves. Then sought they for Jesus, and spake among themselves, as they stood in the temple, What think ye, that He will not come to the feast? Now both the chief priests and the Pharisees had given a commandment, that, if any man knew where He were, he should shew it, that they might take Him._'

He had walked the twelve hours of the day, and no stone had reached Him. But the night was closing in. The Jews were about to take the great step of confessing Caesar to be the only king; therefore _the_ King must prepare to be the Sacrifice.

The story which follows connects the two characters together:--'_Then Jesus six days before the pa.s.sover came to Bethany, where Lazarus was which had been dead, whom He raised from the dead. There they made Him a supper; and Martha served: but Lazarus was one of them that sat at the table with Him._'

I spoke, last Sunday, of the domestic tone which pervades the history of the resurrection of Lazarus; how St. John refused to regard death except as the breaking of a family bond--resurrection except as the renewal of it. The same tone is preserved here. The family feast is the resurrection feast; it is the union of the several limbs of a body which had been torn asunder. There is no change of relation or of sympathy; the old ways of expressing it are retained. Only service has been enn.o.bled. He who sits at meat, and she who serves, are brother and sister. For there is a Guest at the table whose life has been a service, and yet whose acts are all kingly. The awe of Lazarus, who has known the secrets of the grave, does not interrupt fellows.h.i.+p; for He must know them better, and He is with them, sharing in their gladness. 'And what is He? Is He only the elder brother of one household? May He not be the elder brother of all households? Has He only done acts of mysterious grace and power for us? May He not be the Ruler everywhere--over the whole earth, and over those who are in the region from which Lazarus has come back?'

Such thoughts may have been in the minds of both sisters. Martha cannot express them save by fulfilling her simple household duties; they are done for Him. He can translate them into heavenly ministries.

Mary must find some other way to utter what is working in her heart,--what no words can give expression to. '_Then took Mary a pound of ointment of spikenard, very costly, and anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped His feet with her hair: and the house was filled with the odour of the ointment. Then saith one of His disciples, Judas Iscariot, Simon's son, which should betray Him, Why was not this ointment sold for three hundred pence, and given to the poor?_' Mary was probably puzzled by this question. She could not the least have defended her act, or even have explained what she meant by it. She had heard of the anointing of kings, and of the anointing in tombs. The thought of royalty and of burial would become a.s.sociated in her mind.

But why she should have done this thing,--why she had not reserved the money for those who needed it,--she could not have told. Judas may have seemed to her a prudent and religious man for rebuking her. And the other Evangelists say that he was not alone in the complaint. The Apostles generally seem to have agreed in it, and felt its reasonableness.

Later knowledge led St. John to say, '_This he said, not that he cared for the poor; but because he was a thief, and had the bag, and bare what was put therein_.' But at the time he may have shared the feeling of the others. The covetousness of the betrayer may have been quite concealed by his judicious charity; Mary's act may have been measured by his rules. If it were so, John and his fellows showed that there was in them that mind which was rapidly becoming the only mind in Judas. It _might_ become victorious in them; it _might_ be overcome in him. This perhaps was a very critical moment in their lives. Mary's act was essentially a woman's act. No man would be commended for it; a man who imitated it would not be doing what he could, but attempting awkwardly to do what he could not. To rough men, therefore, it was a trial to understand her and sympathise with her. They had need to pa.s.s through many hard processes themselves--to be purged of the covetous spirit,--to be under the guidance of a Spirit who was not yet given,--before they could enter into the worth of services which they were not called to perform, before they could judge them by their origin, not by their immediate results, before they could see what a force love may put into symbols, and how that force may be felt from generation to generation by the humble and meek, whom words and notions affect very little.

But there was one who knew Mary's meaning not only better than they knew it, but better than she knew it. '_Then said Jesus, Let her alone: against the day of my burying hath she kept this. For the poor always ye have with you; but me ye have not always._' What the day of His burying was, must have been unintelligible to the disciples generally; but the reference to it, and to a time when He should not be with them, may have had a solemnising effect upon them; they will have been less ready to judge, more inclined to honour those whom He honoured. Mary may have divined a little more of His meaning. The thought of His burial might perplex her. But it could not cause her despair. She knew that a body which had lain in the grave four days had been safe there. Surely some anointing, better than hers, would keep His body if it was laid in any tomb. In her the instinct of love made the thought of death and sacrifice, however wonderful, not incredible. On Judas it is evident that the sight of Mary's devotion had a withering effect. First, it led him to hypocritical professions about the poor, that he might persuade himself he had some benevolent feelings; then, when Christ drove him from this ground,--when he was reminded that he might always help the poor if he chose,--a conscious hatred against goodness began to unfold itself in him. He went away from that feast a traitor in heart, prepared to accomplish the prophecy that Jesus had uttered concerning Himself. He was to be present at one more feast,--to take one more sop,--then all would be dark within him.

The Evangelist leaves a strong impression upon our minds of the hurry and confusion in Jerusalem at that feast; the curiosity of the people to see Jesus and to see Lazarus; the questionings of the council whether the excitement could be removed without the death of both; the half-formed thought, which might soon take shape and lead to some act, that perhaps the king was among them after all. And then follows the story of the entrance into Jerusalem, which is told at less length than in the other Evangelists; but to which there are two additions that are worthy of note. St. John quotes, as St. Matthew has done, the prophecy of Zechariah:--'_Thy king cometh, meek, and sitting upon an a.s.s_:' and then adds, '_These things understood not His disciples at the first: but when He was risen from the dead, then remembered they that these things were written of Him, and that they had done these things unto Him_.' The illumination of his own mind, and of the minds of his fellow Apostles, respecting the sense and connexion of the Scriptures,--how they learned to connect with Him the descriptions of a King reigning in righteousness, which the Old Testament contained,--how the resurrection from the dead identified Him as the fulfiller of them,--how it linked His relation to G.o.d with His relation to man,--this we learn more clearly from St. John than from all the other apostolical writings. _They_ take the matter, in a certain degree, for granted; he enables us to see the process of it. I have spoken of this subject in considering the pa.s.sage,--'_The zeal of thine house hath eaten me up._' The more we meditate upon it, the more, I believe, we shall be able to trace lines of thought running through the Old Testament, by which the formal critic is puzzled,--the more we shall find how little the word written in letters could profit, if the Living Word did not expound it to the heart and reason,--the more we shall be sure that the laws which governed men in the old time are those which govern us; that we must have the same Teacher as they had; or that while we seem to know everything we shall know nothing.

The other addition is this:--'_The Pharisees therefore said among themselves, Perceive ye how ye prevail nothing? behold, the world is gone after Him_.' The words may indicate a doubt whether the new scheme which Caiaphas had devised was likely to succeed so well as their own; whether the feeling of the people for the Christ would not prove stronger than their submission to the Romans; whether it was not better, therefore, to accuse Him of breaking a law which the mult.i.tude did regard as sacred and Divine, however little they might understand it. At any rate, they show how much men, who have lost all sympathy with truth, are apt to overrate the power of mere numbers, and to underrate the effects of one simple, humble, brave act. The crowds that shouted 'Hosanna!' alarmed the Pharisees. Yet, in a few days, the temper of those crowds was changed; they could cry that Barabbas might be released, and Jesus crucified. The mere coming into Jerusalem royally, yet without the outward signs of royalty, was nothing in their eyes. Yet therein lay the real effective message to their city; that was the hour of its visitation; that has been received by generations of men, in the most cultivated nations of the earth, as the warning of its doom.

'_And there were certain Greeks among them that came up to wors.h.i.+p at the feast: the same came therefore to Philip, which was of Bethsaida of Galilee, and desired him, saying, Sir, we would see Jesus. Philip cometh and telleth Andrew: and again Andrew and Philip tell Jesus._' The event seemed to the disciples a little one. They were used to see Greek proselytes at the great festivals; it was not strange that some of them should have heard of the Teacher from Galilee; or that, if they had heard of Him, they should wish to judge of Him for themselves. Coming with such feelings, to perform what must have seemed to them so easy a request, how they must have been astonished to see the emotion which it caused their Lord, and to hear Him answer them thus:--'_The hour is come, that the Son of man should be glorified. Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit. He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal.

If any man serve me, let him follow me; and where I am, there shall also my servant be: if any man serve me, him will my Father honour.

Now is my soul troubled; and what shall I say? Father, save me from this hour: but for this cause came I unto this hour._'

It is impossible, if we are not utterly loose in our mode of interpretation, not to connect these words with the Greeks who had come to the feast, whether we suppose that they were present and heard them, or that the answer was simply addressed to Philip and Andrew.

And then the questions arise,--Why should this be such an hour of trouble and of glory? How should the appearance of a few strangers have led to a discussion respecting the falling of wheat into the ground, and its death,--respecting the saving of life and the losing it? You will remember that when our Lord spoke of those other sheep He had, which were not of the Jewish fold, and whom also He must bring, He connected the formation of the one flock with the death of the one Shepherd. He signified clearly that the union could take place only upon this condition. The a.s.sertion is in strict harmony with the comment of the Apostle upon the words of Caiaphas to which I have alluded already. The death upon the cross was to take place that He might gather together in one those scattered children of G.o.d. If you turn from St. John to St. Paul,--from this Gospel to the Epistle to the Ephesians,--you will find the breaking down of the middle wall of part.i.tion between Jews and Greeks is said to be effected '_in the body of Christ's flesh, through death_;' that He is said to have '_nailed the enmity to His cross_.' If you reflect on these pa.s.sages, you will perceive (as I said in my discourse on the 10th of John) that what we sometimes speak of very lightly, as if it were only an accident of the New Testament,--the calling in of the Gentiles--the unfolding of a universal society out of the Jewish national society,--is treated by our Lord Himself, and by His Apostles, as that wonderful event to which all G.o.d's purposes, from the beginning of the world, had been tending. You will perceive that they looked upon this reunion, or reconciliation, as unveiling a deep mystery--the deepest mystery of all--in the relations of G.o.d to man, in the being of G.o.d Himself.

Without sacrifice,--so the Jews had been taught from the beginning of their history,--so the other nations had believed just in proportion as they _were_ nations,--without sacrifice, there could be no unity among the members of a race. Sacrifice must bind them to G.o.d.

Sacrifice must bind them to each other. This great political and Divine truth had been confirmed by the human conscience, even when it protested most against some of the inferences which priestcraft had deduced from it. Only he who can give up himself--so the heart of mankind testified--is a patriot; only he obeys the laws; only he can save his country when it is falling. There had been then a sure conviction expressed by prophets and holy men, planted deep in men's hearts, that any larger union--any union which should be between all nations, which should really be for mankind--must involve a mightier and more transcendent sacrifice; a sacrifice in which there should be no blemish. As the conscience was awakened by G.o.d's teaching more and more clearly to perceive that all resistance to G.o.d lies in the setting up of self--that this is the great barrier between Him and His revolted creatures--it began to be understood that the atonement of man with man must have its basis in an atonement of G.o.d with man, and that the same sacrifice was needed for both. One thing yet remained to be learnt, the most wonderful lesson of all; and yet of which G.o.d had been giving the elements, line upon line, precept upon precept, from the beginning. Could sacrifice originate in G.o.d? Could it be made, not first _to_ Him, but first _by_ Him? Could the sacrifices of men be the effect, not the cause, of His love and free grace to them? All our Lord's discourses concerning Himself and His Father,--concerning His own acts as being merely the fulfilment of His Father's will,--concerning the love which the Father had to Him because He laid down His life for the sheep,--had been bringing these mysteries to light; had been preparing the humble and meek to confess, with wonder and contrition, that in every selfish act they had been fighting against the unselfish G.o.d,--that in every self-sacrificing act they had been merely yielding to Him,--merely submitting to die, according to the law of His Eternal Being, which He had created men to show forth. And so far as they had any glimpses of the accomplishment of G.o.d's promises,--that He would bring all into one,--that the Gentiles should wait for His law,--that He would be a Father of all the families of the earth, and that they should be His children,--so far they had the vision of a transcendent and Divine sacrifice.

There was One, at least, who lived in the a.s.surance that G.o.d's will would be done in earth as in heaven, and whose soul was straitened till that will was accomplished. To His inward eye, the Greeks, who had come to claim their share in Jewish privileges and Jewish knowledge, and who wished to see Him, represented all those who should believe in Him, when His Apostles should go forth to baptize the nations in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. They represented the human race of which He was the head, which should be at last gathered together in Him. How emphatically, then, did that moment speak to Him of the glory of the Son of Man,--of the end of His travail for the race of which He was the brother! It was the sign of that coming victory and glory. But how could He see that final issue, and not feel in Himself all the conflict which was to precede it? There was to be a mighty harvest: but the seed, from which it was to spring, must '_first fall into the ground and die, else it would abide alone_; it would give birth to nothing.' Yes! that was the law; He knew it, He realized it in His own inmost being, that He might bring the world under it. He who would not give up his life, must lose his life; he who was content to cast it away, to surrender it wholly, should have the Life which is in G.o.d,--the eternal life--the life of truth and love, which cannot be destroyed. 'If any man "_serve me_," if he call himself after my name, let him go along with me in this path of sacrifice; let him be content to die with me; then where I am, he shall be; he shall share the presence and the love which are my joy and my reward; "_him shall my Father honour_."' But then comes the agony. The death He called upon others to die with Him, He must taste in its bitterness. He must tread the winepress alone. He _was_ treading it at that very moment. The sense of the glory of the Son of Man--of the work that He would achieve for humanity--brings on the unutterable sorrow. The whole man sinks within Him,--He can only say, '_Father, save me from this hour_.' And yet He adds, '_For this cause came I to this hour_.' It is not often that these actual signs of the struggle within Him are declared to us. How wise and necessary that we should have only rare and occasional discoveries of it! But of what unspeakable worth have these discoveries been to the hearts of sufferers in every age! The agony must be pa.s.sed through; the death-struggle--which is most tremendous after the vision of coming good has been the brightest. But the sting of solitude, which is the sharpest of all, is taken out of it. Christ has cried, '_Save me from this hour_.' Christ has Himself said, 'That all He had pa.s.sed through before, had been to prepare Him for that hour.' And Christ changed this cry into another. '_Father, glorify thy name. Then came there a voice from heaven, saying, I have both glorified it, and will glorify it again. The people, therefore, that stood by, and heard it, said that it thundered: others said, an Angel spake to Him. Jesus answered and said, This voice came not because of me, but for your sakes. Now is the judgment of this world, now shall the prince of this world be cast out. And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me. This He said, signifying by what death He should die._'

I have heard speculations about this voice from heaven. It seems to me that St. John's words, taking them just as they stand, convey a much clearer impression to our minds than all commentaries upon them. There is a sound. The people take it for thunder. Some, seeing perhaps a sudden radiance in His countenance, think that an angel has brought Him strength and consolation. He hears in it the voice of His Father,--the sure witness that that name has been glorified, and shall be glorified. To Him the mere voice, the outward sound, is nothing.

'_That came for their sakes._' It was the outward witness to them of the reality of that which He received into His heart. And surely the message has done its work. The struggle is over. He can see victory in His death. Sentence is pa.s.sed on the tyrant of the world,--the Destroyer of the world. The trial-hour of the Son of Man is the hour of his defeat and overthrow. '_And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me._'

'_I will draw all men unto me._' How can we explain these words?

First, let us listen to those which followed them, and then let us consider how far we dare explain them. '_The people answered him, We have heard out of the law that Christ abideth for ever: and how sayest thou, The Son of man must be lifted up? Who is this Son of man?

Then Jesus said unto them, Yet a little while is the light with you.

Walk while ye have the light, lest darkness come upon you: for he that walketh in darkness knoweth not whither he goeth. While ye have light, believe in the light, that ye may be the children of light. These things said Jesus, and departed, and did hide Himself from them._'

Yes, brethren, we must either take those words, '_I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto me_,' as they stand, trying to learn a little of what they mean from the past history of the world, waiting for G.o.d to explain them to us more perfectly in the future; we must either confess that there are depths in G.o.d's purposes of love which no creature has sounded, heights which no creature has reached, but of which the Cross gives us the fullest glimpse we are capable of; we must either do this, or we must ask just as the Jews did,--'_Who is this Son of man?_' They could dream of a Christ who should exalt the chosen people, who should set them over their enemies. They could antic.i.p.ate with a kind of faith the coming of such a Christ, and they could be sure that when He came He would abide for ever. But one who identified Himself with men, they would not, could not confess. I use both phrases, for the Bible uses them; St. John uses them at the close of this chapter. There is a hardness of heart, an inhumanity, which makes it _impossible_ for men, for the most apparently religious men, to receive Jesus as the Son of Man. And therefore it is _impossible_ for them really to receive Him as the Son of G.o.d, as revealing the mind and character of His Father in heaven. And the Atonement of heaven and earth, of G.o.d and man; the Atonement through a sacrifice made once for all; the Atonement by the blood of One who has taken the manhood into G.o.d,--who has raised, purified, redeemed, glorified the earthly nature by joining it to the Divine,--is changed into a cold, formal arrangement for delivering certain men from the punishment of a sin which has itself not been purged away. For sin is no longer that root of bitterness, that selfishness, which has poisoned the universe, and poisons the hearts of each one of us--that deadly thing which betrays Christ, and which divides us from the Father; sin becomes the violation of an arbitrary rule, drawing after it the endurance of an arbitrary and infinite penalty. Those who boast of their religion think they can have a Christ who is not a Son of Man; a G.o.d who is their Father, and not the Father of men in Christ; a Spirit who sanctifies them, but who does not dwell in the Church,--who is not the witness of a fellows.h.i.+p for all creatures whatever who bear the nature which Christ bore, who die the death which Christ died. Nay, the cross of Christ--of Him who gave up Himself--is actually so presented to men, that they suppose it is the instrument by which self-seeking men may secure the greatest amount of selfish rewards! Then other men, who know that such a scheme must be subversive of all pure morality, abandon the Gospel of G.o.d for what they call the Gospel of humanity.

They fancy there can be a society of men without a Shepherd who dies for them; without a Father who loves Him because He dies. And the world begins to be divided between those who deny a Son of Man, because they think only of a salvation for themselves, and those who deny Him, because they wors.h.i.+p the body of which we declare Him to be the Head instead of Him.

Brethren, this division will not last. The Pharisees and Sadducees, much as they hated one another, came to understand that they had a common enemy when Christ walked the earth. They will do so again. The creeds of the Catholic Church, all our prayers and thanksgivings, bear witness that there is a Son of Man,--that He died for mankind, and that He lives for mankind. Do you not think there will be a combination against these? Do you think their antiquity will save them? Or do you think there is a heart in our people to say,--'These witnesses are dearer to us than our lives. Life would be nothing to us without them.' I dare not trust to such a feeling. I know that the cry of 'Hosanna' may be followed very soon by the cry of 'Crucify.' And we have dealt so unfaithfully with these witnesses, they have been such dead letters to us, that I dare not hope the people know the worth of them. Oh that they may not be tolerated any longer because they are regarded as doing no harm! Oh that they may become real torments to those who deny a Son of Man,--real messengers of life to those who seek for one! And to you brethren, I say,--or rather Christ says,--'_Walk in the light while you have the light, that ye may be the children of the light_.' Cling to these prayers, and thanksgivings, and sacraments, while you have them. Bind the meaning of them to your hearts. Live it out in your families. Serve Christ in your daily tasks. Follow Him in simple, hearty, self-sacrifice. And then, when the dark hour comes, and the open witnesses of Him disappear, and even two or three are scarcely gathered together in His name, you may await the time of His full revelation; the time which shall show that He died indeed to gather into one all the children of G.o.d who are scattered throughout this divided world; the men of every age, tongue, clime, colour, opinion; that by the might of His cross He has drawn all to Himself.

DISCOURSE XXII.

THE WORLD AND THE DISCIPLES.

[Lincoln's Inn, 6th Sunday after Trinity, June 29, 1856 (St.

Peter's-day).]

ST. JOHN XII. 44-50, and XIII. 1.

_Jesus cried and said, He that believeth on me, believeth not on me, but on Him that sent me. And he that seeth me seeth Him that sent me. I am come a light into the world, that whomsoever believeth on me should not abide in darkness. And if any man hear my words, and believe not, I judge him not; for I came not to judge the world, but to save the world. He that rejecteth me, and receiveth not my words, hath one that judgeth him: the word that I have spoken, the same shall judge him in the last day. For I have not spoken of myself; but the Father which sent me, He gave me a commandment, what I should say, and what I should speak. And I know that His commandment is life everlasting: whatsoever I speak therefore, even as the Father said unto me, so I speak. Now before the feast of the Pa.s.sover, when Jesus knew that His hour was come that He should depart out of this world unto the Father, having loved His own which were in the world, He loved them unto the end._

I said, in my last sermon, that we were approaching the end of our Lord's public ministry. The verses which I have just read to you are those which close it. I have connected them with the opening of the 13th chapter, because I wish you to mark the transition from this part of St. John's Gospel to that which records Christ's private interviews with the disciples. Hitherto the Apostles have had _less_ prominence in St. John's Gospel than in the others. We have had narratives of discourses with Nicodemus, with the woman of Samaria, with the Jews at the feast, with the Galilaeans at Capernaum, with the blind man, with Mary and Martha,--only now and then, (chiefly to introduce these dialogues or to link them together,) with the Twelve. The contrast, therefore, in him is far more marked than in St. Matthew, St. Mark, or St. Luke, between the Paschal supper and all that goes before it. And since inferences have been drawn from this contrast which I think are not true, I am anxious that you should feel how the words to the mult.i.tude, and the words to the chosen few, are connected, and in what the difference between them consists.

I must begin with some words which occur before those I have read to you:--'_But though He had done so many miracles before them, yet they believed not on Him: that the saying of Esaias the prophet might be fulfilled, which he spake, Lord, who hath believed our report? and to whom hath the arm of the Lord been revealed? Therefore they could not believe, because that Esaias said again, He hath blinded their eyes, and hardened their heart; that they should not see with their eyes, nor understand with their heart, and be converted, and I should heal them. These things said Esaias, when he saw His glory, and spake of Him._' St. John speaks here of the signs which Jesus did, as he has spoken of them from the first. They were signs of a divine presence, a divine power, a divine goodness. They were mighty, in so far as they revealed His presence, and power, and goodness. They were utterly ineffectual to any who esteemed them for their own sakes,--who merely wondered at them. These signs, he tells us now, had not produced belief. Was it to be expected that they would? Had not an old Prophet, who spoke the word of G.o.d, testified that they would not? Had he not complained for his predecessors, for himself, for all that should come after him, that the report of the care of G.o.d for men would be believed by very few; that only by very few would it be felt that the arm of a living G.o.d was stretched forth? And Isaiah, so the Apostle goes on, has not merely told us the effect which he witnessed, but has laid bare the cause. The inner eye which should see the divine arm is blinded, the heart which should take in the tidings of goodness and love is hardened: this was the reason why men with all outward advantages,--with a law, and a history, and a covenant,--chosen out of all nations to know G.o.d and be witnesses of Him, made all these privileges the very excuse for not turning to G.o.d, for not receiving His healing virtue.

But this is not the whole explanation. We must not forget that St.

John says,--'HE _hath blinded their eyes and hardened their hearts_.'

We must not dare to cancel these words, because we may find them difficult. St. John himself interprets them in the next verse. He reminds us that Isaiah spake these words when he had the vision of the King who was sitting upon a throne and filling the temple with His glory. 'That,' he intimates, 'was a vision of the true Lord of the nation, of that same Ruler who now that He was called Jesus of Nazareth was rejected, just as He had been in the days of old when He was revealing Himself to His subjects in personal and in national judgments.' In both cases it was the goodness, the beauty, the glory, which blinded the eyes and hardened the hearts. We know it is so.