(John 14; 15; 16; 17)

The new Institution of the Lord’s Supper did not finally close what passed at that Paschal Table. According to the Jewish Ritual, the Cup is filled a fourth time, and the remaining part of the halel  repeated. Then follow, besides Ps 136, a number of prayers and hymns, of which the comparatively late origin is not doubtful. The same remark applies even more strongly to what follows after the fourth Cup. But, so far as we can judge, the Institution of the Holy Supper was followed by the Discourse recorded in Jn 14. Then the, concluding Ps of the halel were sung, after which the Master left the ‘Upper Chamber.’ The Discourse of Christ recorded in Jn 16, and His prayer were certainly uttered after they had risen from the Supper, and before they crossed the brook Kidron. In all probability they were, however, spoken before the Saviour left the house. We can scarcely imagine such a Discourse, and still less such a Prayer, to have been uttered while traversing the narrow streets of Jerusalem on the way to Kidron.

1. In any case there cannot be doubt, that the first Discourse was spoken while still at the Supper-Table. It connects itself closely with that statement which had caused them so much sorrow and perplexity, that, whither He was going, they could not come. If so, the Discourse itself may be arranged under these four particulars: explanatory and corrective; explanatory and teaching; hortatory and promissory; promissory and consolatory. Thus there is constant and connected progress, the two great elements in the Discourse being: teaching and comfort.

At the outset we ought, perhaps, to remember the very Common Jewish idea, that those in glory occupied different abodes, corresponding to their ranks. If the words of Christ, about the place whither they could not follow Him, had awakened any such thoughts, the explanation which He now gave must effectually have dispelled them. Let not their hearts, then, be troubled at the prospect. As they believed in God, so let them also have trust in Him. It was His Father’s house of which they were thinking, and although there were ‘many mansions,’ or rather ‘stations,’ in it – and the choice of this word may teach us something – yet they were all in that one House. Could they not trust Him in this? Surely, if it had been otherwise, He would have told them, and not left them to be bitterly disappointed in the end. Indeed, the object of His going was the opposite of what they feared: it was to prepare by His Death and Resurrection a place for them. Nor let them think that His going away would imply permanent separation, because He had said they could not follow Him thither. Rather did His going, not away, but to prepare a place for them, imply His Coming again, primarily as regarded individuals at death, and secondarily as regarded the Church – that He might receive them unto Himself, there to be with Him. Not final separation, then, but ultimate gathering to Himself, did His present going away mean. ‘And whither I go, ye know the way.’

Jesus had referred to His going to the Father’s House, and implied that they knew the way which would bring them thither also. But His Words had only the more perplexed, at least some of them. If, when speaking of their not being able to go whither He went, He had not referred to a separation between them in that land far away, whither was He going? And, in their ignorance of this, how could they find their way thither? If any Jewish ideas of the disappearance and the final manifestation of the Messiah lurked beneath the question of Thomas, the answer of the Lord placed the matter in the clearest light. He had spoken of the Father’s House of many ‘stations,’ but only one road led thither. They must all know it: it was that of personal apprehension of Christ in the life, the mind, and the heart. The way to the Father was Christ; the full manifestation of all spiritual truth and the spring of the true inner life were equally in Him. Except through Him, no man could consciously come to the Father. Thomas had put his twofold question thus: What was the goal? and, what was the way to it? In His answer Christ significantly reversed this order, and told them first what was the way – Himself; and then what was the goal. If they had spiritually known Him as the way, they would also have known the goal, the Father, and now, by having the way clearly pointed out, they must also know the goal, God; nay, He was, so to speak, visibly before them – and, gazing on Him, they saw the shining track up to heaven, the Jacob’s ladder at the top of which was the Father.

But once more appeared in the words of Philip that carnal literalising which would take the words of Christ in only an external sense. Sayings like these help us to perceive the absolute need of another Teacher, the Holy Spirit. Philip understood the words of Christ as if He held out the possibility of an actual sight of the Father; and this, as they imagined, would forever have put an end to all their doubts and fears. We also, too often, would fain have such solution of our doubts, if not by actual vision, yet by direct communication from on high. In His reply Jesus once more and emphatically returned to this truth, that the vision, which was that of faith alone, was spiritual, and in no way external; and that this manifestation had been, and was fully, though spiritually and to faith, in Him. Or did Philip not; believe that the Father was really manifested in Christ, because he did not actually behold Him? Those words which had drawn them and made them feel that heaven was so near, they were not His own, but the message which He had brought them from the Father; those works which He had done, they were the manifestation of the Father’s ‘dwelling’ in Him. Let them then believe this vital union between the Father and Him – and, if their faith could not absolutely rise to that height, let it at least rest on the lower level of the evidence of His works. And so would He still lead us upwards, from the experience of what He does to the knowledge of what He is. Yea, and if they were ever tempted to doubt His works, faith might have evidence of them in personal experience. Primarily, no doubt, the words about the greater works which they who believed in Him would do, because He went to the Father, refer to the Apostolic preaching and working in its greater results after the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. To this also must primarily refer the promise of unlimited answer to prayer in His Name. But in a secondary, yet most true and blessed, sense, both these promises have, ever since the Ascension of Christ, also applied both to the Church and to all individual Christians.

A twofold promise, so wide as this, required, it must be felt, not indeed limitation, but qualification – let us say, definition – so far as concerns the indication of its necessary conditions. Unlimited power of working by faith and of praying in faith is qualified by obedience to His Commandments, such as is the outcome of personal love to, Him. And for such faith, which compasseth all things in the obedience of love to Christ, and can obtain all by the prayer of faith in His Name, there will be a need of Divine Presence ever with them. While He had been with them, they had had one Paraclete, or ‘Advocate,’ Who had pleaded with them the cause of God, explained and advocated the truth, and guarded and guided them. Now that His outward Presence was to be withdrawn from earth, and He was to be their Paraclete or Advocate in Heaven with the Father, He would, as His first act of advocacy, pray the Father, Who would send them another Paraclete, or Advocate, who would continue with them forever. To the guidance and pleadings of that Advocate they could implicitly trust themselves, for He was ‘the Spirit of Truth.’ The world, indeed, would not listen to His Pleadings, nor accept Him as their Guide, for the only evidence by which they judged was that of outward sight and material results. But theirs would be other Empirics: an experience not outward, but inward and spiritual. They would know the reality of His Existence and the truth of His pleadings by the continual Presence with them as a body of this Paraclete, and by His dwelling in them individually.

Here (as Bengel justly remarks) begins the essential difference between believers and the world. The Son was sent into the world; not so the Holy Spirit. Again, the world receives not the Holy Spirit, because it knows Him not; the disciples know Him, because they possess Him. Hence ‘to have known’ and ‘to have’ are so conjoined, that not to have known is the cause of not having, and to have is the cause of knowing. In view of this promised Advent of the other Advocate, Christ could tell the disciples that He would not leave them ‘orphans’ in this world. Nay, in this Advocate Christ Himself came to them. True, the world, which only saw and knew what fell within the range of its sensuous and outward vision (Joh_14:17), would not behold Him, but they would behold Him, because He lived, and they also would live – and hence there was fellowship of spiritual life between them. On that day of the Advent of His Holy Spirit would they have full knowledge because experience, of the Christ’s Return to the Father, and of their own being in Christ, and of His being in them. And, as regarded this threefold relationship, this must be ever kept in view: to be in Christ meant, to love Him, and this was: to have and to keep His commandments; Christ’s being in the Father implied, that they who were in Christ or loved Him would be loved also of His Father; and, lastly, Christ’s being in them implied, that He would love them and manifest Himself to them.

One outstanding novel fact here arrested the attention of the disciples. It was contrary to all their Jewish ideas about the future manifestation of the Messiah, and it led to the question of one of their number. Judas – not Iscariot: ‘Lord, what has happened, that to us Thou wilt manifest Thyself, and not to the world?’ Again they thought of an outward, while He spoke of a spiritual and inward manifestation. It was of this coming of the Son and the Father for the purpose of making ‘station’ with them that He spoke, of which the condition was love to Christ, manifested in the keeping of His Word, and which secured the love of the Father also. On the other hand, not to keep His Word was not to love Him, with all that it involved, not only as regarded the Son, but also the Father, since the Word which they heard was the Father’s.

Thus far then for this inward manifestation, springing from life-fellowship with Christ rich in the unbounded spiritual power of faith, and fragrant with the obedience of love. All this He could say to them now in the Father’s Name – as the first Representative, Pleader, and ‘Advocate,’ or Paraclete. But what, when He was no longer present with them? For that He had provided ‘another Paraclete,’ Advocate, or Pleader. This ‘Paraclete, the Holy Spirit, Whom the Father will send in My Name, that same will teach you all, things, and bring to your remembrance all things that I said to you.’ It is quite evident, that the interpretation of the term Paraclete as ‘the Comforter’ will not meet the description here given of His twofold function as teaching all, and recalling all, that Christ Himself had said. Nor will the other interpretation of ‘Advocate’ meet the requirements, if we regard the Advocate as one who pleads for us. But if we regard the Paraclete or Advocate as the Representative of Christ, and pleading, as it were, for Him, the cause of Christ, all seems harmonious. Christ came in the Name of the Father, as the first Paraclete, as His Representative, the Holy Spirit comes in the Name of Christ, as the second Paraclete, the Representative of Who is in the Father. As such the second Paraclete, is sent by the Father in Name of the first Paraclete, and He would both complete in them, and recall to them, His Cause.

And so at the end of this Discourse the Lord returned again, and now with fuller meaning, to its beginning. Then He had said: ‘Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe in God, believe also in Me.’ Now, after the fuller communication of His purpose, and of their relation to Him, He could convey to them the assurance of peace, even His Own peace, as His gift in the present, and His legacy for the future. In their hearing, the fact of His going away, which had filled them with such sorrow and fear, had now been conjoined with that of His Coming to them. Yes, as He had explained it, His departure to the Father was the necessary antecedent and condition of His Coming to them in the permanent Presence of the other Paraclete, the Holy Ghost. That Paraclete, however, would, in the economy of grace, be sent by the Father alone. In the dispensation of grace, the final source from whence all cometh, Who sendeth both the Son and the Holy Ghost, is God the Father. The Son is sent by the Father, and the Holy Ghost also, though proceeding from the Father and the Son, is sent by the Father in Christ’s Name. In the economy of grace, then, the Father is greater than the Son. And the return of the Son to the Father marks alike the completion of Christ’s work, and its perfection, in the Mission of the Holy Ghost, with all that His Advent implies. Therefore, if, discarding thoughts of themselves, they had only given room to feelings of true love to Him, instead, of mourning they would have rejoiced because He went to the Father, with all that this implied, not only of rest and triumph to Him, but of the perfecting of His Work – since this was the condition of that Mission of the Holy Ghost by the Father, Who sent both the Son and the Holy Spirit. And in this sense also should they have rejoiced, because, through the presence of the Holy Ghost in them, as sent by the Father in His ‘greater’ work, they would, instead of the present selfish enjoyment of Christ’s Personal Presence, have the more power of showing their love to Him in apprehending His Truth, obeying His Commandments, doing His Works, and participating in His Life. Not that Christ expected them to understand the full meaning of all these words. But afterwards, when it had all come to pass, they would believe.

With the meaning and the issue of the great contest on which He was about to enter thus clearly before Him, did He now go forth to meet the last assault of the ‘Prince of this World.’ But why that fierce struggle, since in Christ ‘he hath nothing?’ To exhibit to ‘the world’ the perfect love which He had to the Father; how even to the utmost of self-exinanition, obedience, submission, and suffering He was doing as the Father had given Him commandment, when He sent Him for the redemption of the world. In the execution of this Mission He would endure the last sifting assault and contest on the part of the Enemy, and, enduring, conquer for us. And so might the world be won from its Prince by the full manifestation of Christ, in His infinite obedience and righteousness, doing the Will of the Father and the Work which He had given Him, and in His infinite love doing the work of our salvation.

2. The work of our salvation! To this aspect of the subject Christ now addressed Himself, as He rose from the Supper-Table. If in the Discourse recorded in the fourteenth chapter of John’s Gospel the Godward aspect of Christ’s impending departure was explained, in that of the fifteenth chapter the new relation is set forth which was to subsist between Him and His Church. And this – although epigrammatic sayings are so often fallacious – may be summarised in these three words: Union, Communion, Disunion. The Union between Christ and His Church is corporate, vital, and effective, alike as regards results and blessings. This Union issues in Communion – of Christ with His disciples, of His disciples with Him, and of His disciples among themselves. The principle of all these is love: the love of Christ to the disciples, the love of the disciples to Christ, and the love in Christ of the disciples to one another. Lastly, this Union and Communion has for its necessary counterpart Disunion, separation from the world. The world repudiates them for their union with Christ and their communion. But, for all that, there is something that must keep them from going out of the world. They have a Mission in it, initiated by, and carried on in the power of, the Holy Ghost – that of uplifting the testimony of Christ.

As regards the relation of the Church to the Christ Who is about to depart to the Father, and to come to them in the Holy Ghost as His Representative, it is to be one of Union – corporate, vital, and effective. In the nature of it, such a truth could only be set forth by illustration. When Christ said: ‘I am the Vine, the true one, and My Father is the Husbandman;’ or again, ‘Ye are the branches’ – bearing in mind that, as He spake it in Aramaic, the copulas ‘am, ‘is,’ and ‘are,’ would be omitted – He did not mean that He signified the Vine or was its sign, nor the Father that of the Husband- man, nor yet the disciples that of the branches. What He meant was, that He, the Father, and the disciples, stood in exactly the same relationship as the Vine, the Husbandman, and the branches. That relationship was of corporate union of the branches with the Vine for the production of fruit to the Husbandman, Who for that purpose pruned the branches. Nor can we forget in this connection, that, in the Old Testament, and partially in Jewish thought, the Vine was the symbol of Israel, not in their national but in their Church-capacity. Christ, with His disciples as the branches, is ‘the Vine, the true One’ – the reality of all types, the fulfilment of all promises. They are many branches, yet a grand unity in that Vine; there is one Church of which He is the Head, the Root, the Sustenance, the Life. And in that Vine will the object of its planting of old be realised: to bring forth fruit unto God.

Yet, though it be one Vine, the Church must bear fruit not only in her corporate capacity, but individually in each of the branches. It seems remarkable that we read of branches in Him that bear not fruit. This must apparently refer to those who have by Baptism been inserted into the Vine, but remain fruitless – since a merely outward profession of Christ could scarcely be described as ‘a branch in’ Him. On the other hand, every fruit-bearing branch the Husbandman ‘cleanseth’ – not necessarily nor exclusively by pruning, but in whatever manner may be requisite – so that it may produce the largest possible amount of fruit. As for them, the process of cleansing had ‘already’ been accomplished through, or because of [the meaning is much the same], the Word which He had spoken unto them. If that condition of fruit-bearing now existed in them in consequence of the impression of His Word, it followed as a cognate condition that they must abide in Him, and He would abide in, them. Nay, this, was a vital condition of fruit-bearing, arising from the fundamental fact that He was the Vine and they the branches. The proper, normal condition of every branch in that Vine was to bear much fruit, of course, in proportion to its size and vigour. But, both figuratively and really, the condition of this was to abide in Him, since ‘apart’ from Him they could do nothing. It was not like a force once set in motion that would afterwards continue of itself. It was a life, and the condition of its permanence was continued union with Christ, from Whom alone it could spring.

And now as regarded the two alternatives: he that abode not in Him was the branch ‘cast outside’ and withering, which, when ready for it, men would cast into the fire – with all of symbolic meaning as regards the gatherers and the burning that the illustration implies. On the other hand, if the corporate and vital union was effective, if they abode in Him, and in consequence, His Words abode in them, then: ‘Whatsoever ye will ye shall ask, and it shall be done to you.’ It is very noteworthy that the unlimitedness of prayer is limited, or, rather, conditioned, by our abiding in Christ and His Words in us, just as in Joh_14:12-14 it is conditioned by fellowship with Him, and in Joh_15:16 by permanent fruitfulness. For, it were the most dangerous fanaticism, and entirely opposed to the teaching of Christ, to imagine that the promise of Christ implies such absolute power – as if prayer were magic – that a person might ask for anything, no matter what it was, in the assurance of obtaining his request. In all moral relations, duties and privileges are correlative ideas, and in our relation to Christ conscious immanence in Him and of His Word in us, union and communion with Him, and the obedience of love, are the indispensable conditions of our privileges. The believer may, indeed, ask for anything, because he may always and absolutely go to God; but the certainty of special answers to prayer is proportionate to the degree of union and communion with Christ. And such unlimited liberty of prayer is connected with our bearing much fruit, because thereby the Father is glorified and our discipleship evidenced. 

This union, being inward and moral, necessarily unfolds into communion, of which the principle is love. ‘Like as the Father loved Me, even so loved I you. Abide in My love. If ye keep My commandments, ye shall abide in the love that is Mine (ἐν τῇ ἀγάπη τῇ ἐμῇ).’We mark the continuity in the scale of love: the Father towards the Son, and the Son towards us; and its kindredness of forthgoing. And now all that the disciples had to do was to abide in it. This is connected, not with sentiment nor even with faith, but with obedience. Fresh supplies are drawn by faith, but continuance in the love of Christ is the manifestation and the result of obedience. It was so even with the Master Himself in His relation to the Father. And the Lord immediately explained what His object was in saying this. In this, also, were they to have communion with Him: communion in that joy which was His in consequence of His perfect obedience. ‘These things have I spoken to you, in order that the joy that is Mine (ἡ χαρὰ ἡ ἐμή) may be in you, and your joy may be fulfilled [completed].’

But what of those commandments to which such importance attached? Clean as they now were through the Words which He had spoken, one great commandment stood forth as specially His Own, consecrated by His Example and to be measured by His observance of it. From whatever point we view it, whether as specially demanded by the pressing necessities of the Church; or as, from its contrast to what Heathenism exhibited, affording such striking evidence of the power of Christianity; or, on the other hand, as so congruous to all the fundamental thoughts of the Kingdom: the love of the Father in sending His Son for man, the work of the Son in seeking and saving the lost at the price of His Own Life, and the new bond which in Christ bound them all in the fellowship of a common calling, common mission, and common interests and hopes – love of the brethren was the one outstanding Farewell-Command of Christ. And to keep His commandments was to be His friend. And they were His friends. ‘No longer’ did He call them servants, for the servant knew not what his lord did. He had now given them a new name, and with good reason: ‘You have I called friends, because all things which I heard of My Father I made known to you.’ And yet deeper did He descend, in pointing them to the example and measure of His love as the standard of theirs towards one another. And with this teaching He combined what He had said before, of bearing fruit and of the privilege of fellowship with Himself. They were His friends; He had proved it by treating them as such in now opening up before them the whole counsel of God. And that friendship: ‘Not you did choose Me, but I did choose you’ – the object of His ‘choosing’ [that to which they were ‘appointed’] being, that, as they went forth into the world, they should bear fruit, that their fruit should be permanent, and that they should possess the full privilege of that unlimited power to pray of which He had previously spoken. All these things were bound up with obedience to His commands, of which the outstanding one was to ‘love one another.’ 

But this very choice on His part, and their union of love in Him and to one another, also implied not only separation from, but repudiation by, the world. For this they must be prepared. It had come to Him, and it would be evidence of their choice to discipleship. The hatred of the world showed the essential difference and antagonism between the life-principle of the world and theirs. For evil or for good, they must expect the same treatment as their Master. Nay, was it not their privilege to realise, that all this came upon them for His sake? and should they not also remember, that the ultimate ground of the world’s hatred was ignorance of Him Who had sent Christ? And yet, though this should banish all thoughts of personal resentment, their guilt who rejected Him was truly terrible. Speaking to, and in, Israel, there was no excuse for their sin – the most awful that could be conceived; since, most truly: ‘He that hateth Me, hateth My Father also.’ For, Christ was the Sent of God, and God manifest. It was a terrible charge this to bring against God’s ancient people Israel. And yet there was, besides the evidence of His Words, that of His Works. If they could not apprehend the former, yet, in regard to the latter, they could see by comparison with the works of other men that they were unique. They saw it, but only hated Him and His Father, ascribing it all to the power and agency of Beelzebul. And so the ancient prophecy had now been fulfilled: ‘They hated Me gratuitously.’ But all was not yet at an end: neither His Work through the other Advocate, nor yet theirs in the world. ‘When the Advocate is come, Whom I will send to you from the Father – the Spirit of the Truth – Who proceedeth from the Father [goeth forth on His Mission as sent by the Father], this Same will bear witness about Me. And ye also bear, witness, because ye are with Me from the beginning.’

3. The last of the parting Discourses of Christ, in Jn 16, was, indeed, interrupted by questions from the disciples. But these, being germane to the subject, carry it only forward. In general, the subjects treated in it are: the new relations arising from the departure of Christ and the coming of the other Advocate. Thus the last point needed would be supplied – Jn 14 giving the comfort and teaching in view of His departure; Jn 15 describing the personal relations of the disciples towards Christ, one another, and the world; and Jn 16 fixing the new relations to be established.

The chapter appropriately opens by reflecting on the predicted enmity of the world. Christ had so clearly foretold it, lest this should prove a stumbling-block to them. Best, to know distinctly that they would not only be put out of the Synagogue, but that everyone who killed them would deem it ‘to offer a religious service to God.’ So, no doubt, Saul of Tarsus once felt, and so did many others who, alas! never became Christians. Indeed, according to Jewish Law, ‘a zealot’ might have slain without formal trial those caught in flagrant rebellion against God – or in what might be regarded as such, and the Synagogue would have deemed the deed as meritorious as that of Phinehas. It was a sorrow, and yet also a comfort, to know that this spirit of enmity arose from ignorance of the Father and of Christ. Although they had in a general way been prepared for it before, yet He had not told it all so definitely and connectedly from the beginning, because He was still there. But now that He was going away, it was absolutely necessary to do so. For even the mention of it had thrown them into such confusion of personal sorrow, that the main point, whither Christ was going, had not even emerged into their view.  Personal feelings had quite engrossed them, to the forgetfulness of their own higher interests. He was going to the Father, and this was the condition, as well as the antecedent of His sending the Paraclete.

But the Advent of the ‘Advocate’ would mark a new era, as regarded the Church and the world. It was their Mission to go forth into the world and to preach Christ. That other Advocate, as the Representative of Christ, would go into the world and convict on the three cardinal points on which their preaching turned. These three points on which all Missioning proceeds, are – Sin, Righteousness, and Judgment. And on these would the New Advocate convict the world. Bearing in mind that the term ‘convict’ is uniformly used in the Gospels for clearly establishing or carrying home guilt, we have here three separate facts presented to us. As the Representative of Christ, the Holy Ghost will carry home to the world, establish the fact of its guilt in regard to sin – on the ground that the world believes not in Christ. Again, as the Representative of Christ, He will carry home to the World the fact of its guilt in regard to righteousness – on the ground that Christ has ascended to the Father, and hence is removed from the sight of man. Lastly, as the Representative of Christ, He will establish the fact of the world’s guilt, because of this: that its Prince, Satan, has already been judged by Christ – a judgment established in His sitting at the Right Hand of God, and which will be vindicated at His Second Coming. Taking, then, the three great facts in the History of the Christ: His First Coming to salvation, His Resurrection and Ascension, and His Sitting at the Right Hand of God, of which His Second Coining to Judgment is the final issue, this Advocate of Christ will in each case convict the world of guilt; in regard to the first – concerning sin, because it believes not on Him Whom God has sent; in regard to the second – concerning righteousness, because Christ is at the Father’s Right Hand; and, in regard to the third – concerning judgment, because that Prince whom the world still owns has already been judged by Christ’s Session at the Right Hand of God, and by His Reign, which is to be completed in His Second Coming to Earth.

Such was the cause of Christ which the Holy Spirit as the Advocate would plead to the world, working conviction as in a hostile guilty party. Quite other was that cause of Christ which, as His Advocate, He would plead with the disciples, and quite other in their case the effect of His advocacy. We have, even on the present occasion, marked how often the Lord was hindered, as well as grieved, by the misunderstanding and unbelief of man. Now it was the self-imposed law of His Mission, the outcome of His Victory in the Temptation in the Wilderness, that He would not achieve His Mission in the exercise of Divine Power, but by treading the ordinary path of humanity. This was the limitation which He set to Himself – one aspect of His Self-exinanition. But from this His constant sorrow must also have flowed, in view of the unbelief of even those nearest to Him. It was, therefore, not only expedient, but even necessary for them, since at present they could not bear more, that Christ’s Presence should be withdrawn, and His Representative take His place, and open up His Cause to them. And this was to be His special work to the Church. As Advocate, not speaking from Himself, but speaking whatsoever He shall hear – as it were, according to His heavenly ‘brief’ – He would guide them into all truth. And here His first ‘declaration’ would be of ‘the things that are coming.’ A whole new order of things was before the Apostles – the abolition of the Jewish, the establishment of the Christian Dispensation, and the relation of the New to the Old, together with many kindred questions. As Christ’s Representative, and speaking not from Himself, the Holy Spirit would be with them, not suffer them to go astray into error or wrong, but be their ‘wayleader’ into all truth. Further, as the Son glorified the Father, so would the Spirit glorify the Son, and in analogous manner – because He shall take of His and ‘declare’ it unto them. This would be the second line, as it were, in the ‘declarations’ of the Advocate, Representative of Christ. And this work of the Holy Spirit, sent by the Father, in His declaration about Christ, was explained by the circumstance of the union and communication between the Father and Christ. And so-to sum up, in one brief Farewell, all that He had said to them – there would be ‘a little while’ in which they would not ‘behold’ Him (οὐκέτι θεωρεῖτέ με), and again a little while and they would ‘see’ Him (ὄψεσθέ με), though in quite different manner, as even the wording shows. 

If we had entertained any doubt of the truth of the Lord’s previous words, that in their absorbedness in the present the disciples had not thought of the ‘whither’ to which Christ was going, and that it was needful for them that He should depart and the other Advocate come, this conviction would be forced upon us by their perplexed questioning among themselves as to the meaning of the twofold ‘little while,’ and of all that He had said about, and connected with, His going to the Father. They would fain have asked, yet dared not. But He knew their thoughts, and answered them. That first ‘little while’ comprised those terrible days of His Death and Entombment, when they would weep and lament, but the world rejoice. Yet their brief sorrow would be turned into joy. It was like the short sorrow of childbearing – afterwards no more remembered in the joy that a human being had been born into the world. Thus would it be when their present sorrow would be changed into the Resurrection-joy – a joy which no man could ever afterwards take from them. On that day of joy would He have them dwell in thought during their present night of sorrow. That would be, indeed, a day of brightness, in which there would be no need of their making further inquiry of Him (ἐμὲ οὐκ ἐρωτήσετε). All would then be clear in the new light of the Resurrection. A day this, when the promise would become true, and whatsoever they asked the Father (αἰτήσητε), He would give it them in Christ’s Name. Hitherto they had not yet asked in His Name; let them ask: they would receive, and so their joy be completed. Ah! that day of brightness. Hitherto He had only been able to speak to them, as it were, in parables and allegory, but then would He ‘declare’ to them in all plainness about the Father. And, as He would be able to speak to them directly and plainly about the Father, so would they then be able to speak directly to the Father – as the Epistle to the Hebrews expresses it, come with ‘plainness’ or ‘directness’ to the throne of grace. They would ask directly in the Name of Christ; and no longer would it be needful, as at present, first to come to Him that He may ‘inquire’ of the Father ‘about’ them (ἐρωτήσω περὶ ὑμῶν). For, God loved them as lovers of Christ, and as recognising that He had come forth from God. And so it was – He had come forth from out the Father when He came into the world, and, now that He was leaving it, He was going to the Father.

The disciples imagined that they understood this at least. Christ had read their thoughts, and there was no need for anyone to put express questions. He knew all things, and by this they believed-it afforded them evidence – that He came forth from God. But how little did they know their own hearts! The hour had even come when they would be scattered, every man to his own home, and leave Him alone – yet, truly, He would not be alone, because the Father would be with Him. Yet, even so, His latest as His first thought was of them; and through the night of scattering and of sorrow did He bid them look to the morning of joy. For, the battle was not theirs, nor yet the victory doubtful: ‘I [emphatically] have overcome [it is accomplished] the world.

We now enter most reverently what may be called the innermost Sanctuary. For the first time we are allowed to listen to what was really ‘the Lord’s Prayer,’ and, as we hear, we humbly worship. That Prayer was the great preparation for His Agony, Cross, and Passion; and, also, the outlook on the Crown beyond. In its three parts it seems almost to look back on the teaching of the three previous chapters, and convert them into prayer. We see the great High-Priest first solemnly offering up Himself, and then consecrating and interceding for His Church and for her work.

The first part of that Prayer is the consecration of Himself by the Great High-Priest. The final hour had come. In praying that the Father would glorify the Son, He was really not asking anything for Himself, but that ‘the Son’ might ‘glorify’ the Father. For, the glorifying of the Son – His support, and then His Resurrection, was really the completion of the work which the Father had given Him to do as well as its evidence. It was really in accordance (‘even as’) with the power or authority which the Father gave Him over ‘all flesh,’ when He, put all things under His Feet as the Messiah – the object of this Messianic Rule being, ‘that the totality’ (the all, πᾶν) ‘that Thou hast given Him, He should give to them eternal life.’ The climax in His Messianic appointment, the object of His Rule over all flesh, was the Father’s gift to Christ of the Church as a totality and a unity; and in that Church Christ gives to each individually eternal life. What follows seems an intercalated sentence, as shown even by the use of the particle ‘and,’ with which the all-important definition of what is ‘eternal life’ is introduced, and by the last words in the verse. But although embodying, so to, speak, as regards the form, the record which John had made of Christ’s Words, we must remember that, as regards the substance, we have here Christ’s own Prayer for that eternal life to each of His own people. And what constitutes ‘the eternal life?’ Not what we so often think, who confound with the thing its effects or else its results. It refers not to the future, but to the present. It is the realisation of what Christ had told them in these words: ‘Ye believe in God, believe also in Me.’ It is the pure sunlight on the soul, resulting in, or reflecting the knowledge of Jehovah; the Personal, Living, True God, and of Him Whom He did send, Jesus Christ. These two branches of knowledge must not so much be considered as co-ordinate, but rather as inseparable. Returning from this explanation of ‘the eternal life’ which they who are bathed in the Light possess even now and here, the Great High-Priest first offered up to the Father that part of His work which was on earth and which He had completed. And then, both as the consummation and the sequel of it, He claimed what was at the end of His Mission: His return to that fellowship of essential glory, which He possessed together with the Father before the world was.

The gift of His consecration could not have been laid on more glorious Altar. Such Cross must have been followed by such Crown. And now again His first thought was of them for whose sake He had consecrated himself. These He now solemnly presented to the Father. He introduced them as those (the individuals) whom the Father had specially given to him out of the world. As such they were, really the Father’s, and given over to Christ – and He now presented them as having kept the Word of the Father. Now they knew that all things whatsoever the Father had given the Son were of the Father. This was the outcome, then, of all His teaching, and the sum of all their learning – perfect confidence in the Person of Christ, as in His Life, Teaching, and Work sent not only of God, but of the Father. Neither less nor yet more did their ‘knowledge’ represent. All else that sprang out of it they had yet to learn. But it was enough, for it implied everything; chiefly these three things – that they received the words which He gave them as from the Father; that they knew truly that Christ had come out from the Father; and that they believed that the Father had sent Him. And, indeed, reception of Christ’s Word, knowledge of His Essential Nature, and faith in His Mission: such seem the three essential characteristics of those who are Christ’s.

And, now He brought them in prayer before the Father. He was interceding, not for the ‘world’ that was His by right of His Messiahship, but for them whom the Father had specially given Him. They were the Father’s in the special sense of covenant-mercy, and all that in that sense was the Father’s was the Son’s, and all that was the Son’s was the Father’s. Therefore, although all the world was the Son’s, He prayed not now for it; and although all in earth and heaven were in the Father’s Hand, He sought not now His blessing on them, but on those whom, while He was in the world, He had shielded and guided. They were to be left behind in a world of sin, evil, temptation, and sorrow, and He was going to the Father. And this was His prayer: ‘Holy Father, keep them in Thy Name which Thou hast given Me, that so (in order that) they may be one (a unity, ἕν), as We are.’ The peculiar address, ‘Holy Father,’ shows that the Saviour once more referred to the keeping in holiness, and what is of equal importance, that ‘the unity’ of the Church sought for was to be primarily one of spiritual character, and not a merely outward combination. Unity in holiness and of nature, as was that of the Father and Son, such was the great object sought, although such union would, if properly carried out, also issue in outward unity. But while moral union rather than outward unity was in His view, our present ‘unhappy divisions,’ arising so often from wilfulness and unreadiness to bear slight differences among ourselves – each other’s burdens – are so entirely contrary not only to the Christian, but even to the Jewish, spirit, that we can only trace them to the heathen element in the Church.

While He was ‘with them,’ He ‘kept’ them in the Father’s Name. Them whom the Father had given Him, by the effective drawing of His grace within them, He guarded (ἐφύλαξα), and none from among them was lost, except the son of perdition – and this, according to prophecy. But ere He went to the Father, He prayed thus for them, that in this realised unity of holiness the joy that was His (τὴν χαρὰν τὴν ἐμήν), might be ‘completed’ in them. And there was the more need of this, since they were left behind with nought but His Word in a world that hated them, because as Christ, so they also were not of it [‘from’ it, ἐκ]. Nor yet did Christ ask with a view to their being taken out of the world, but with this ‘that’ [in order that] the Father should ‘keep them [preserve, from the Evil One.’ And this the more emphatically, because, even as He was not, so were they not ‘out of the world,’ which lay in the Evil One. And the preservative which He sought for them was not outward but inward, the same in kind as while He had been with them, only coming now directly from the Father. It was sanctification ‘in the truth,’ with this significant addition: ‘The word that is Thine (ὁ λόγος ὁ σός) is truth.’

In its last part this intercessory Prayer of the Great High-Priest bore on the work of the disciples and its fruits. As the Father had sent the Son, so did the Son send the disciples into the world – in the same manner, and on the same Mission. And for their sakes He now solemnly offered Himself, ‘consecrated’ or ‘sanctified’ Himself, that they might ‘in truth’ – truly – be consecrated. And in view of this their work, to which they were consecrated, did Christ pray not for them alone, but also for those who, through their word, would believe in Him, ‘in order,’ or ‘that so,’ ‘all may be one’ – form a unity. Christ, as sent by the Father, gathered out the original ‘unity;’ they, as sent by Him, and consecrated by His consecration, were to gather others, but all were to form one great unity, through the common spiritual communication. ‘As Thou in Me, and I also in Thee, so that [in order that] they also may be in Us, so that [in order that] the world may believe that Thou didst send Me.’ ‘And the glory that Thou hast given Me’ – referring to His Mission in the world, and His setting apart and authorisation for it – ‘I have given to them, so that [in order that] [in this respect also] they may be one, even as We are One [a unity]. I in them, and Thou in Me, so that they may be perfected into One’ – the ideal unity and real character of the Church, this – ‘so that the world may know that Thou didst send Me, and lovedst them as Thou lovedst Me.’

After this unspeakably sublime consecration of His Church, and communication to her of His glory as well as of His Work, we cannot marvel at what follows and concludes ‘the Lord’s Prayer.’ We remember the unity of the Church – a unity in Him, and as that between the Father and the Son-as we listen to this: ‘That which Thou hast given Me, I will that, where I am, they also may be with Me – so that they may gaze [behold] on the glory that is Mine, which Thou hast given Me [be sharers in the Messianic glory]: because Thou lovedst Me before the foundation of the world.’

And we all would fain place ourselves in the shadow of this final consecration of Himself and of His Church by the Great High-Priest, which is alike final appeal, claim, and prayer: ‘O Righteous Father, the world knew Thee not, but I know Thee, and these know that Thou sentest Me. And I made known unto them Thy Name, and will make it known, so that [in order that] the love wherewith Thou lovedst Me may be in them, and I in them.’ This is the charter of the Church: her possession and her joy; her faith, her hope also, and love; and in this she standeth, prayeth, and worketh.

(Mat 26:30-56; Mar 14:26-52; Luk 22:31-53; Joh_18:1-11)

We turn once more to follow the steps of Christ, now among the last He trod upon earth. The ‘hymn,’ with which the Paschal Supper ended, had been sung. Probably we are to understand this of the second portion of the halel, sung some time after the third Cup, or else of Ps 136, which, in the present Ritual, stands near the end of the service. The last Discourses had been spoken, the last Prayer, that of Consecration, had been offered, and Jesus prepared to go forth out of the City, to the Mount of Olives. The streets could scarcely be said to be deserted, for, from many a house shone the festive lamp, and many a company may still have been gathered; and everywhere was the bustle of preparation for going up to the Temple, the gates of which were thrown open at midnight.

Passing out by the gate north of the Temple, we descend into a lonely part of the valley of black Kidron, at that season swelled into a winter torrent. Crossing it, we turn somewhat to the left, where the road leads towards Olivet. Not many steps farther (beyond, and on the other side of the present Church of the Sepulchre of the Virgin) we turn aside from the road to the right, and reach what tradition has since earliest times – and probably correctly – pointed out as ‘Gethsemane,’ the ‘Oil-press.’ It was a small property enclosed (χωρίον), ‘a garden’ in the Eastern sense, where probably, amidst a variety of fruit trees and flowering shrubs, was a lowly, quiet summer-retreat, connected with, or near by, the ‘Olive-press.’ The present Gethsemane is only some seventy steps square, and though its old gnarled olives cannot be those (if such there were) of the time of Jesus, since all trees in that valley – those also which stretched their shadows over Jesus – were hewn down in the Roman siege, they may have sprung from the old roots, or from the odd kernels. But we love to think of this ‘Garden’ as the place where Jesus ‘often’ – not merely on this occasion, but perhaps on previous visits to Jerusalem – gathered with His disciples. It was a quiet resting-place, for retirement, prayer, perhaps sleep, and a trysting-place also where not only the Twelve, but others also, may have been wont to meet the Master. And as such it was known to Judas, and thither he led the armed band, when they found the Upper Chamber no longer occupied by Jesus and His disciples. Whether it had been intended that He should spend part of the night there, before returning to the Temple, and whose that enclosed garden was – the other Eden, in which the Second Adam, the Lord from heaven, bore the penalty of the first, and in obeying gained life – we know not, and perhaps ought not to inquire. It may have belonged to Mark’s father. But if otherwise, Jesus had loving disciples even in Jerusalem, and, we rejoice to think, not only a home at Bethany, and an Upper Chamber furnished in the City, but a quiet retreat and trysting-place for His own under the bosom of Olivet, in the shadow of the garden of ‘the Oil-press.’

The sickly light of the moon was falling full on them as they were crossing Kidron. It was here, we imagine, after they had left the City behind them, that the Lord addressed Himself first to the disciples generally. We can scarcely call it either prediction or warning. Rather, as we think of that last Supper, of Christ passing through the streets of the City for the last time into that Garden, and especially of what was now immediately before Him, does what He spake seem natural, even necessary. To them – yes, to them all He would that night be even a stumbling-block. And so had it been foretold of old, that the Shepherd would be smitten, and the sheep scattered. Did this prophecy of His suffering, in its grand outlines fill the mind of the Saviour as He went forth on His Passion? Such Old Testament thoughts were at any rate present with Him, when, not unconsciously nor of necessity, but as the Lamb of God He went to the slaughter. A peculiar significance also attaches to His prediction that, after He was risen, He would go before them into Galilee. For, with their scattering upon His Death, it seems to us, the Apostolic circle or College, as such, was for a time broken up. They continued, indeed, to meet together as individual disciples, but the Apostolic bond was temporarily dissolved. This explains many things: the absence of Thomas on the first, and his peculiar position on the second Sunday; the uncertainty of the disciples, as evidenced by the words of those on the way to Emmaus; as well as the seemingly strange movements of the Apostles – all which are quite changed when the Apostolic bond is restored. Similarly, we mark, that only seven of them seem to have been together by the Lake of Galilee, and that only afterwards the Eleven met Him on the mountain to which He had directed them. It was here that the Apostolic circle or College was once more re-formed, and the Apostolic commission renewed, and thence they returned to Jerusalem, once more sent forth from Galilee, to await the final events of His Ascension, and the Coming of the Holy Ghost.

But in that night they understood none of these things. While all were staggering under the blow of their predicted scattering, the Lord seems to have turned to Peter individually. What He said, and how He put it, equally demand our attention: ‘Simon, Simon’ – using his old name when referring to the old man in him – ‘Satan has obtained [out-asked, ἐξῃτήσατο] you, for the purpose of sifting like as wheat. But I have made supplication for thee, that thy faith fail not.’ The words admit us into two mysteries of heaven. This night, seems to have been ‘the power of darkness,’ when, left of God, Christ had to meet by Himself the whole assault of hell, and to conquer in His own strength as Man’s Substitute and Representative. It is a great mystery: but quite consistent with itself. We do not, as others, here see any analogy to the permission given to Satan in the opening chapters of the Book of Job, always supposing that this embodies a real, not an allegorical story. But in that night the fierce wind of hell was allowed to sweep unbroken over the Saviour, and even to expend its fury upon those that stood behind in His Shelter. Satan had ‘out-asked,’ obtained it – yet not to destroy, nor to cast down, but ‘to sift,’ like as wheat is shaken in a sieve to cast out of it what is not grain. Hitherto, and no farther, had Satan obtained it. In that night of Christ’s Agony and loneliness, of the utmost conflict between Christ and Satan, this seems almost a necessary, element.

This, then was the first mystery that had passed. And this, sifting would affect Peter more than the others. Judas, who loved not Jesus at all, had already fallen; Peter, who loved Him – perhaps not most intensely, but, if the expression be allowed, most extensively – stood next to Judas in danger. In truth, though most widely apart in their directions, the springs of their inner life rose in close proximity. There was the same readiness to kindle into enthusiasm, the same desire to have public opinion with him, the same shrinking from the Cross, the same moral inability or unwillingness to stand alone in the one as in the other. Peter had abundant courage to sally out, but not to stand out. Viewed in its primal elements (not in its development), Peter’s character was, among the disciples, the likest to that of Judas. If this shows what Judas might have become, it also explains how Peter was most in danger that night; and, indeed, the husks of him were cast out of the sieve in his denial of the Christ. But what distinguished Peter from Judas was his ‘faith’ of spirit, soul, and heart – of spirit, when he apprehended the spiritual element in Christ; of soul, when he confessed Him as the Christ; and of heart, when he could ask Him to sound the depths of his inner being, to find there real, personal love to Jesus.

The second mystery of that night was Christ’s supplication for Peter. We dare not say, as the High-Priest – and we know not when and where it was offered. But the expression is very strong, as of one who has need of a thing. And that for which He made such supplication was, that Peter’s faith should not fail. This, and not that something new might be given him, or the trial removed from Peter. We mark, how Divine grace presupposes, not supersedes, human liberty. And this also explains why Jesus had so prayed for Peter, not for Judas. In the former case there was faith, which only required to be strengthened against failure – an eventuality which, without the intercession of Christ, was possible. To these words of His, Christ added this significant commission: ‘And thou, when thou hast turned again, confirm thy brethren.’ And how fully he did this, both in the Apostolic circle and in the Church, history has chronicled. Thus, although such may come in the regular moral order of things, Satan has not even power to ‘sift’ without leave of God; and thus does the Father watch in such terrible sifting over them for whom Christ has prayed. This is the first fulfilment of Christ’s Prayer, that the Father would ‘keep them from the Evil One.’ Not by any process from without, but by the preservation of their faith. And thus also may we learn, to our great and unspeakable comfort, that not every sin – not even conscious and wilful sin – implies the failure of our faith, very closely though it lead to it; still less, our final rejection. On the contrary; as the fall of Simon was the outcome of the natural elements in him, so would it lead to their being brought to light and removed, thus fitting him the better for confirming his brethren. And so would light come out of darkness. From our human standpoint we might call such teaching needful: in the Divine arrangement it is only the Divine sequent upon the human antecedent.

We can understand the vehement earnestness and sincerity with which Peter protested against the possibility of any failure on his part. We mostly deem those sins farthest which are nearest to us; else, much of the power of their temptation would be gone, and temptation changed into conflict. The things which we least anticipate are our falls. In all honesty – and not necessarily with self-elevation over the others – he said, that even if all should be offended in Christ, he never could be, but was ready to go with Him into prison and death. And when, to enforce the warning, Christ predicted that before the repeated crowing of the cock ushered in the morning,’ Peter would thrice deny that he knew Him, Peter not only persisted in his asseverations, but was joined in them by the rest. Yet – and this seems the meaning and object of the words of Christ which follow – they were not aware how terribly changed the former relations had become, and what they would have to suffer in consequence. When formerly He had sent them forth, both without provision and defence, had they lacked anything? No! But now no helping hand would be extended to them; nay, what seemingly they would need even more than anything else would be ‘a sword’ – defence against attacks, for at the close of His history He was reckoned with transgressors. The Master a crucified Malefactor – what could His followers expect? But once more they only understood Him in a grossly realistic manner. These Galileans, after the custom of their countrymen, had provided themselves with short swords, which they concealed under their upper garment. It was natural for men of their disposition, so imperfectly understanding their Master’s teaching, to have taken what might seem to them only a needful precaution in coming to Jerusalem. At least two of them – among them Peter – now produced swords. But this was not the time to reason with them, and our Lord simply put it aside. Events would only too soon teach them.

They had now reached the entrance to Gethsemane. It may have been that it led through the building with the ‘oil-press,’ and that the eight Apostles, who were not to come nearer to the ‘Bush burning, but not consumed,’ were left there. Or they may have been taken within the entrance of the Garden, and left there, while, pointing forward with a gesture of the Hand, He went ‘yonder’ and prayed. According to Luke, He added the parting warning to pray that they might not enter into temptation.

Eight did He leave there. The other three – Peter, James, and John – companions before of His glory, both when He raised the daughter of Jairus and on the Mount of Transfiguration – He took with Him farther. If in that last contest His Human Soul craved for the presence of those who stood nearest Him and loved Him best, or if He would have them baptized with His Baptism, and drink of His Cup, these were the three of all others to be chosen. And now of a sudden the cold flood broke over Him. Within these few moments He had passed from the calm of assured victory into the anguish of the contest. Increasingly, with every step forward, He became ‘sorrowful,’ full of sorrow, ‘sore amazed,’ and ‘desolate.’ He told them of the deep sorrow of His Soul (ψυχή) even unto death, and bade them tarry there to watch with Him. Himself went forward to enter the contest with prayer. Only the first attitude of the wrestling Saviour saw they, only the first words in that Hour of Agony did they hear. For, as in our present state not uncommonly in the deepest emotions of the soul, and as had been the case on the Mount of Transfiguration, irresistible sleep crept over their frame. But what, we may reverently ask, was the cause of this sorrow unto death of the Lord Jesus Christ? Not fear, either of bodily or mental suffering: but Death. Man’s nature, created of God immortal, shrinks (by the law of its nature) from the dissolution of the bond that binds body to soul. Yet to fallen man Death is not by any means fully Death, for he is born with the taste of it in his soul. Not so Christ. It was the Unfallen Man dying; it was He, Who had no experience of it, tasting Death, and that not for Himself but for every man, emptying the cup to its bitter dregs. It was the Christ undergoing Death by man and for man; the Incarnate God, the God-Man, submitting Himself vicariously to the deepest humiliation, and paying the utmost penalty: Death – all Death. No one as He could know what Death was (not dying, which men dread, but Christ dreaded not); no one could taste its bitterness as Heb His going into Death was His final conflict with Satan for man, and on his behalf. By submitting to it He took away the power of Death; He disarmed Death by burying his shaft in His own Heart. And beyond this lies the deep, unutterable mystery of Christ bearing the penalty due to our sin, bearing our death, bearing the penalty of the broken Law, the accumulated guilt of humanity, and the holy wrath of the Righteous Judge upon them. And in view of this mystery the heaviness of sleep seems to steal over our apprehension.

Alone, as in His first conflict with the Evil One in the Temptation in the wilderness, must the Saviour enter on the last contest. With what agony of soul He took upon Him now and there the sins of the world, and in taking expiated them, we may learn from this account of what passed, when, with strong crying and tears unto Him that was able to save Him from death, He ‘offered up prayers and supplications.’ And – we anticipate it already – with these results that He was heard; that He learned obedience by the things which He suffered; that He was made perfect; and that He became: to us the Author of Eternal Salvation, and before God, a High-Priest after the order of Melchizedek. Alone – and yet even this being ‘parted from them’ (ἀπεσπάσθη), implied sorrow.  And now, ‘on His knees,’ prostrate on the ground, prostrate on His Face, began His Agony. His very address bears witness to it. It is the only time, so far as recorded in the Gospels, when He addressed God with the personal pronoun: ‘My Father.’  The object of the prayer was, that, ‘if it were possible, the hour might pass away from Him.’ The subject of the prayer (as recorded by the three Gospels) was, that the Cup itself might pass away, yet always with the limitation, that not His Will but the Father’s might be done. The petition of Christ, therefore, was subject not only to the Will of the Father, but to His own Will that the Father’s Will might be done. We are here in full view of the deepest mystery of our faith: the two Natures in One Person. Both Natures spake here, and the ‘if it be possible’ of Matthew and Mark is in Luke ‘if Thou be willing.’ In any case, the ‘possibility’ is not physical – for with God all things are possible – but moral: that of inward fitness. Was there, then, any thought or view of ‘a possibility,’ that Christ’s work could be accomplished without that hour and Cup? Or did it only mark the utmost limit of His endurance and submission? We dare not answer; we only reverently follow what is recorded.

It was in this extreme Agony of Soul almost unto death, that the Angel appeared (as in the Temptation in the wilderness) to ‘strengthen’ and support His Body and Soul. And so the conflict went on, with increasing earnestness of prayer, all that terrible hour. For, the appearance of the Angel must have intimated to Him, that the Cup could not pass away. And at the close of that hour – as we infer from the fact that the disciples must still have seen on His Brow the marks of the Bloody Sweat – His Sweat, mingled with Blood, fell in great drops on the ground. And when the Saviour with this mark of His Agony on His Brow returned to the three He found that deep sleep held them. While He lay in prayer, they lay in sleep; and yet where soul-agony leads not to the one, it often induces the other. His words, primarily addressed to ‘Simon,’ roused them, yet not sufficiently to fully carry to their hearts either the loving reproach, the admonition to ‘Watch and pray’ in view of the coming temptation, or the most seasonable warning about the weakness of the flesh, even where the spirit was willing, ready and ardent (πρόθυμον).

The conflict had been virtually, though not finally, decided, when the Saviour went back to the three sleeping disciples. He now returned to complete it, though both the attitude in which He prayed (no longer prostrate) and the wording of His Prayer – only slightly altered as it was – indicate how near it was to perfect victory. And once more, on His return to them, He found that sleep had weighted their eyes, and they scarce knew what answer to make to Him. Yet a third time He left them to pray as before. And now He returned victorious. After three assaults had the Tempter left Him in the wilderness; after the threefold conflict in the Garden he was vanquished. Christ came forth triumphant. No longer did He bid His disciples watch. They might, nay they should, sleep and take rest, ere the near terrible events of His Betrayal – for, the hour had come when the Son of Man was to be betrayed into the hands of sinners.

A very brief period of rest this, soon broken by the call of Jesus to rise and go to where the other eight had been left, at the entrance of the Garden – to go forward and meet the band which was coming under the guidance of the Betrayer. And while He was speaking, the heavy tramp of many men and the light of lanterns and torches indicated the approach of Judas and his band. During the hours that had passed all had been prepared. When, according to arrangement, he appeared at the High-Priestly Palace, or more probably at that of Annas, who seems to have had the direction of affairs, the Jewish leaders first communicated with the Roman garrison. By their own admission they possessed no longer (for forty years before the destruction of Jerusalem) the power of pronouncing capital sentence. It is difficult to understand how, in view of this fact (so fully confirmed in the New Testament), it could have been imagined (as so generally) that the Sanhedrin had, in regular session, sought formally to pronounce on Jesus what, admittedly, they had not the power to execute. Nor, indeed, did they, when appealing to Pilate, plead that they had pronounced sentence of death, but only that they had a law by which Jesus should die. It was otherwise as regarded civil causes, or even minor offences. The Sanhedrin, not possessing the power of the sword, had, of course, neither soldiery, nor regularly armed band at command. The ‘Temple-guard’ under their officers served merely for purposes of police, and, indeed, were neither regularly armed nor trained. Nor would the Romans have tolerated a regular armed Jewish force in Jerusalem.

We can now understand the progress of events. In the fortress of Antonia, close to the Temple and connected with it by two stairs, lay the Roman garrison. But during the Feast the Temple itself was guarded by an armed Cohort, consisting of from 400 to 600 men, so as to prevent or quell any tumult among the numerous pilgrims. It would be to the captain of this ‘Cohort’ that the Chief Priests and leaders of the Pharisees would, in the first place, apply for an armed guard to effect the arrest of Jesus, on the ground that it might lead to some popular tumult. This, without necessarily having to state the charge that was to be brought against Him, which might have led to other complications. Although John speaks of ‘the band’ by a word (σπεῖρα) which always designates a ‘Cohort’ – in this case ‘the Cohort,’ the definite article marking it as that of the Temple – yet there is no reason for believing that the whole Cohort was sent. Still, its commander would scarcely have sent a strong detachment out of the Temple, and on what might lead to a riot, without having first referred to the Procurator, Pontius Pilate. And if further evidence were required, it would be in the fact that the band was led not by a Centurion, but by a Chiliarch, which, as there were no intermediate grades in the Roman army, must represent one of the six tribunes attached to each legion. This also explains not only the apparent preparedness of Pilate to sit in judgment early next morning, but also how Pilate’s wife may have been disposed for those dreams about Jesus which so affrighted her.

This Roman detachment, armed with swords and ‘staves’ – with the latter of which Pilate on other occasions also directed his soldiers to attack them who raised a tumult-was accompanied by servants from the High-Priest’s Palace, and other Jewish officers, to direct the arrest of Jesus. They bore torches and lamps placed on the top of poles, so as to prevent any possible concealment.

Whether or not this was the ‘great multitude’ mentioned by Matthew and Mark, or the band was swelled by volunteers or curious onlookers, is a matter of no importance. Having received this band, Judas proceeded on his errand. As we believe, their first move was to the house where the Supper had been celebrated. Learning that Jesus had left it with His disciples, perhaps two or three hours before, Judas next directed the band to the spot he knew so well: to Gethsemane. A signal by which to recognise Jesus seemed almost necessary with so large a band, and where escape or resistance might be apprehended. It was – terrible to say – none other than a kiss. As soon as he had so marked Him, the guard were to seize, and lead Him safely away.

Combining the notices in the four Gospels, we thus picture to ourselves the succession of events. As the band reached the Garden, Judas went somewhat in advance of them, and reached Jesus just as He had roused the three and was preparing to go and meet His captors. He saluted Him, ‘Hail, Rabbi,’ so as to be heard by the rest, and not only kissed but covered Him with kisses, kissed Him repeatedly, loudly, effusively (κατεφίλησεν). The Saviour submitted to the indignity, not stopping, but only saying as He passed on: ‘Friend, that for which thou art here;’  and then, perhaps in answer to his questioning gesture: ‘Judas, with a kiss deliverest thou up the Son of Man?’ If Judas had wished, by thus going in advance of the band and saluting the Master with a kiss, even now to act the hypocrite and deceive Jesus and the disciples, as if he had not come with the armed men, perhaps only to warn Him of their approach, what the Lord said must have reached his inmost being. Indeed, it was the first mortal shaft in the soul of Judas. The only time we again see him, till he goes on what ends in his self-destruction, is as he stands, as it were sheltering himself, with the armed men.

It is at this point, as we suppose, that the notices from John’s Gospel come in. Leaving the traitor, and ignoring the signal which he had given them, Jesus advanced to the band, and asked them: ‘Whom seek ye?’ To the brief spoken, perhaps somewhat contemptuous, ‘Jesus the Nazarene,’ He replied with infinite calmness and majesty: ‘I am He.’ The immediate effect of these words was, we shall not say magical, but Divine. They had no doubt been prepared for quite other: either compromise, fear, or resistance. But the appearance and majesty of that calm Christ – heaven in His look and peace on His lips – was too overpowering in its effects on that untutored heathen soldiery, who perhaps cherished in their hearts secret misgivings of the work they had in hand. The foremost of them went backward, and they fell to the ground. But Christ’s hour had come. And once more He now asked them the same question as before, and, on repeating their former answer, He said: ‘I told you that I am He; if therefore ye seek Me, let these go their way,’ – the Evangelist seeing in this watchful care over His own the initial fulfilment of the words which the Lord had previously spoken concerning their safe preservation, not only in the sense of their outward preservation, but in that of their being guarded from such temptations as, in their then state, they could not have endured.

The words of Christ about those that were with Him seem to have recalled the leaders of the guard to full consciousness – perhaps awakened in them fears of a possible rising at the incitement of His adherents. Accordingly, it is here that we insert the notice of Matthew, and of Mark that they laid hands on Jesus and took Him. Then it was that Peter, seeing what was coming, drew the sword which he carried, and putting the question to Jesus, but without awaiting His answer, struck at Malchus, the servant of the High-Priest – perhaps the Jewish leader of the band – cutting off his ear. But Jesus immediately restrained all such violence, and rebuked all self-vindication by outward violence (the taking of the sword that had not been received) – nay, with it all merely outward zeal, pointing to the fact how easily He might, as against this ‘cohort’ have commanded Angelic legions.  He had in wrestling Agony received from His Father that Cup to drink,  and the Scriptures must in that wise be fulfilled. And so saying, He touched the ear of Malchus, and healed him.

But this faint appearance of resistance was enough for the guard. Their leaders now bound Jesus. It was to this last, most undeserved and uncalled-for indignity that Jesus replied by asking them, why they had come against Him as against a robber – one of those wild, murderous Sicarii. Had He not been all that week daily in the Temple, teaching? Why not then seize Him? But this ‘hour’ of theirs that had come, and ‘the power of darkness’ – this also had been foretold in Scripture!

And as the ranks of the armed men now closed around the bound Christ, none dared to stay with Him, lest they also should be bound as resisting authority. So they all forsook Him and fled. But there was one there who joined not in the flight, but remained, a deeply interested onlooker. When the soldiers had come to seek Jesus in the Upper Chamber of his home, Mark, roused from sleep, had hastily cast about him the loose linen garment or wrapper that lay by his bedside, and followed the armed band to see what would come of it. He now lingered in the rear, and followed as they led away Jesus, never imagining that they would attempt to lay hold on him, since he had not been with the disciples nor yet in the Garden. But they, perhaps the Jewish servants of the High-Priest, had noticed him. They attempted to lay hold on him, when, disengaging himself from their grasp, he left his upper garment in their hands, and fled.

So ended the first scene in the terrible drama of that night.

(Joh_18:12-14; Mat_26:57, Mat_26:58; Mar_14:53, Mar_14:54; Luk_22:54, Luk_22:55; Joh_18:24, Joh_18:15-18; Joh_18:19-23; Mat_26:69, Mat_26:70; Mar_14:66-68; Luk_22:56, Luk_22:57; Joh_18:17, Joh_18:18; Mat_26:71, Mat_26:72; Mar_14:69, Mar_14:70; Luk_22:58; Joh_18:25; Mat_26:59-68; Mar_14:55-65; Luk_22:67-71, Luk_22:63-65; Mat_26:73-75; Mar_14:70-72; Luk_22:59-62; Joh_18:26, Joh_18:27)

It was not a long way that they led the bound Christ. Probably through the same gate by which He had gone forth with His disciples after the Paschal Supper, up to where, on the slope between the Upper City and the Tyropoeon, stood the well-known Palace of Annas. There were no idle saunterers in the streets of Jerusalem at that late hour, and the tramp of the Roman guard must have been too often heard to startle sleepers, or to lead to the inquiry why that glare of lamps and torches, and Who was the Prisoner, guarded on that holy night by both Roman soldiers and servants of the High Priest.

If every incident in that night were not of such supreme interest, we might dismiss the question as almost idle, why they brought Jesus to the house of Annas, since he was not at that time the actual High-Priest. That office now devolved on Caiaphas, his son-in-law, who, as the Evangelist significantly reminds us, had been the first to enunciate in plain words what seemed to him the political necessity for the judicial murder of Christ. There had been no pretence on his part of religious motives or zeal for God; he had cynically put it in a way to override the scruples of those old Sanhedrists by raising their fears. What was the use of discussing about forms of Law or about that Man? it must in any case be done; even the friends of Jesus in the Council, as well as the punctilious observers of Law must regard His Death as the less of two evils. He spoke as the bold, unscrupulous, determined man that he was; Sadducee in heart rather than by conviction; a worthy son-in-law of Annas.

No figure is better known in contemporary Jewish history than that of Annas; no person deemed more fortunate or successful, but none also more generally execrated than the late High-Priest. He had held the Pontificate for only six or seven years; but it was filled by not fewer than five of his sons, by his son-in-law Caiaphas, and by a grandson. And in those days it was, at least for one of Annas’ disposition, much better to have been than to be High-Priest. He enjoyed all the dignity of the office, and all its influence also, since he was able to promote to it those most closely connected with him. And, while they acted publicly, he really directed affairs, without either the responsibility or the restraints which the office imposed. His influence with the Romans he owed to the religious views which he professed, to his open partisanship of the foreigner, and to his enormous wealth. The Sadducean Annas was an eminently safe Churchman, not troubled with any special convictions nor with Jewish fanaticism, a pleasant and a useful man also, who was able to furnish his friends in the Praetorium with large sums of money. We have seen what immense revenues the family of Annas must have derived from the Temple-booths, and how nefarious and unpopular was the traffic. The names of those bold, licentious, unscrupulous, degenerate sons of Aaron were spoken with whispered curses. Without referring to Christ’s interference with that Temple-traffic, which, if His authority had prevailed would, of course, have been fatal to it, we can understand how antithetic in every respect a Messiah, and such a Messiah as Jesus, must have been to Annas. He was as resolutely bent on His Death as his son-in-law, though with his characteristic cunning and coolness, not in the hasty, bluff manner of Caiaphas. It was probably from a desire that Annas might have the conduct of the business, or from the active, leading part which Annas took in the matter; perhaps for, even more prosaic and practical reasons, such as that the Palace of Annas was nearer to the place of Jesus’ capture, and that it was desirable to dismiss the Roman soldiery as quickly as possible – that Christ was first brought to Annas, and not to the actual High-Priest.

In any case, the arrangement was, most congruous, whether as regards the character of Annas, or the official position of Caiaphas. The Roman soldiers had evidently orders to bring Jesus to the late High-Priest. This appears from their proceeding directly to him, and from this, that apparently they returned to quarters immediately on delivering up their prisoner. And we cannot ascribe this to any official position of Annas in the Sanhedrin, first, because the text implies that it had not been due to this cause, and, secondly, because, as will presently appear, the proceedings against Christ were not those of the ordinary and regular meetings of the Sanhedrin.

No account is given of what passed before Annas. Even the fact of Christ’s being first brought to him is only mentioned in the Fourth Gospel. As the disciples had all forsaken Him and fled, we can understand that they were in ignorance of what actually passed, till they had again rallied, at least so far, that Peter and ‘another disciple,’ evidently John, ‘followed Him into the Palace of the High-priest’ – that is, into the Palace of Caiaphas, not of Annas. For as, according to the three Synoptic Gospels, the Palace of the High-Priest Caiaphas was the scene of Peter’s denial, the account of it in the Fourth Gospel  must refer to the same locality, and not to the Palace of Annas, while the suggestion that Annas and Caiaphas occupied the same dwelling is not only very unlikely in itself, but seems incompatible with the obvious meaning of the notice, ‘Now Annas sent Him bound unto Caiaphas the High-Priest.’ But if Peter’s denial, as recorded by John, is the same as that described by the Synoptists, and took place in the house of Caiaphas, then the account of the examination by the High-Priest, which follows the notice about Peter, must also refer to that by Caiaphas, not Annas. We thus know absolutely nothing of what passed in the house of Annas – if, indeed, anything passed – except that Annas sent Jesus bound to Caiaphas.

Of what occurred in the Palace of Caiaphas we have two accounts. That of John seems to refer to a more private interview between the High-Priest and Christ, at which, apparently, only some personal attendants of Caiaphas were present, from one of whom the Apostle may have derived his information. The second account is that of the Synoptists, and refers to the examination of Jesus at dawn of day by the leading Sanhedrists, who had been hastily summoned for the purpose.

It sounds almost like presumption to say, that in His first interview with Caiaphas Jesus bore Himself with the majesty of the Son of God, Who knew all that was before Him, and passed through it as on the way to the accomplishment of His Mission. The questions of Caiaphas bore on two points: the disciples of Jesus, and His teaching – the former to incriminate Christ’s followers, the latter to incriminate the Master. To the first inquiry it was only natural that He should not have condescended to return an answer. The reply to the second was characterised by that ‘openness’ which He claimed for all that He had said.  If there was to be not unprejudiced, but even fair inquiry, let Caiaphas not try to extort confessions to which he had no legal right, nor to ensnare Him when the purpose was evidently murderous. If he really wanted information, there could be no difficulty in procuring witnesses to speak to His doctrine; all Jewry knew it. His was no secret doctrine (‘in secret I spake nothing’). He always spoke ‘in Synagogue and in the Temple, whither all the Jews gather together.’ If the inquiry were a fair one, let the judge act judicially, and ask not Him, but those who had heard Him.

It must be admitted, that the answer sounds not like that of one accused, who seeks either to make apology, or even greatly cares to defend himself. And there was in it that tone of superiority which even injured human innocence would have a right to assume before a nefarious judge, who sought to ensnare a victim, not to elicit the truth. It was this which emboldened one of those servile attendants, with the brutality of an Eastern in such circumstances, to inflict on the Lord that terrible blow. Let us hope that it was a heathen, not a Jew, who so lifted his hand. We are almost thankful that the text leaves it in doubt, whether it was with the palm of the hand, or the lesser indignity – with a rod. Humanity itself seems to reel and stagger under this blow. In pursuance of His Human submission, the Divine Sufferer, without murmuring or complaining, or without asserting His Divine Power, only answered in such tone of patient expostulation as must have convicted the man of his wrong, or at least have left him speechless. May it have been that these words and the look of Christ had gone to his heart, and that the now strangely-silenced malefactor became the confessing narrator of this scene to the Apostle John?

2. That apostle was, at any rate, no stranger in the Palace of Caiaphas. We have already seen that, after the first panic of Christ’s sudden capture and their own flight, two of them at least, Peter and John, seem speedily to have rallied. Combining the notices of the Synoptists with the fuller details, in this respect, of the Fourth Gospel, we derive the impression that Peter, so far true to his word, had been the first to stop in his flight and to follow ‘afar off.’ If he reached the Palace of Annas in time, he certainly did not enter it, but probably waited outside during the brief space which preceded the transference of Jesus to Caiaphas. He had now been joined by John, and the two followed the melancholy procession which escorted Jesus to the High-Priest. John seems to have entered ‘the court’ along with the guard, while Peter remained outside till his fellow-Apostle, who apparently was well known in the High-Priest’s house, had spoken to the maid who kept the door – the male servants being probably all gathered in the court – and so procured his admission.

Remembering that the High-Priest’s Palace was built on the slope of the hill, and that theirs was an outer court, from which a door led into the inner court, we can, in some measure, realise the scene. As previously stated, Peter had followed as far as that inner door, while John had entered with the guard. When he missed his fellow-disciple, who was left outside this inner door, John ‘went out,’ and, having probably told the waiting-maid that this was a friend of his, procured his admission. While John now hurried up to be in the Palace, and as near Christ as he might, Peter advanced into the middle of the court, where, in the chill spring night, a coal fire had been lighted. The glow of the charcoal, around which occasionally a blue flame played, threw a peculiar sheen on the bearded faces of the men as they crowded around it, and talked of the events of that night, describing, with Eastern volubility, to those who had not been there what had passed in the Garden, and exchanging, as is the manner of such serving-men and officials, opinions and exaggerated denunciations concerning Him Who had been captured with such unexpected ease, and was now their master’s safe Prisoner. As the red light glowed and flickered, it threw the long shadows of these men across the inner court, up the walls towards the gallery that ran round, up there, where the lamps and lights within, or as they moved along apartments and corridors, revealed other faces: there, where, in an inner audience-chamber, the Prisoner was confronted by His enemy, accuser, and judge.

What a contrast it all seemed between the Purification of the Temple only a few days before, when the same Jesus had overturned the trafficking tables of the High-Priest, and as He now stood, a bound Prisoner before him, at the mercy of every menial who might carry favour by wantonly insulting Him? It was a chill night when Peter, down ‘beneath,’ looked up to the lighted windows. There among the serving-men in the court, he was in every sense ‘without.’ He approached the group around the fire. He would hear what they had to say; besides, it was not safe to stand apart; he might be recognised as one of those who had only escaped capture in the Garden by hasty flight. And then it was, chill – and not only to the body, the chill had struck to his soul. Was he right in having come there at all? Commentators have discussed it as involving neglect of Christ’s warning. As if the love of any one who was, and felt, as Peter, could have credited the possibility of what he had been warned of; and, if he had credited it, would, in the first moments of returning flood after the panic of his flight, have remembered that warning, or with cool calculation acted up to the full measure of it! To have fled to his home and shut the door behind him, by way of rendering it impossible to deny that he knew Christ, would not have been Peter nor any true disciple. Nay, it would itself have been a worse and more cowardly denial than that of which he was actually guilty. Peter followed afar off, thinking of nothing else but his imprisoned Master, and that he would see the end, whatever it might be. But now it was chill, very chill, to body and soul, and Peter remembered it all; not, indeed, the warning, but that of which he had been warned. What good could his confession do? perhaps much possible harm; and why was he there?

Peter was very restless, and yet he must seem very quiet. He ‘sat down’ among the servants, then he stood up among them. It was this restlessness of attempted indifference which attracted the attention of the maid who had at the first admitted him. As in the uncertain light she scanned the features of the mysterious stranger, she boldly charged him, though still in a questioning tone, with being one of the disciples of the Man Who stood incriminated up there before the High-Priest. And in the chattering of his soul’s fever, into which the chill had struck, Peter vehemently denied all knowledge of Him to Whom the woman referred, nay, of the very meaning of what she said. He had said too much not to bring soon another charge upon himself. We need not inquire which of the slightly varying reports in the Gospels represents the actual words of the woman or the actual answer of Peter. Perhaps neither; perhaps all – certainly, she said all this, and, certainly, he answered all that, though neither of them would confine their words to the short sentences reported by each of the Evangelists.

What had he to do there? And why should he incriminate himself, or perhaps Christ, by a needless confession to those who had neither the moral nor the legal right to exact it? That was all he now remembered and thought; nothing about any denial of Christ. And so, as they were still chatting together, perhaps bandying words, Peter withdrew. We cannot judge how long time had passed, but this we gather, that the words of the woman had either not made any impression on those around the fire, or that the bold denial of Peter had satisfied them. Presently, we find Peter walking away down ‘the porch, which ran round and opened into ‘the outer court.’ He was not thinking of anything else now than how chilly it felt, and how right he had been in not being entrapped by that woman. And so he heeded it not, while his footfall sounded along the marble paved porch, that just at this moment ‘a cock crew.’ But there was no sleep that night in the High-Priest’s Palace. As he walked down the porch towards the outer court, first one maid met him; and then, as he returned from the outer court, he once more encountered his old accuser, the door-portress; and as he crossed the inner court to mingle again with the group around the fire, where he had formerly found safety, he was first accosted by one man, and then they all around the fire turned upon him – and each and all had the same thing to say, the same charge, that he was also one of the disciples of Jesus of Nazareth. But Peter’s resolve was taken; he was quite sure it was right; and to each separately, and to all together, he gave the same denial, more brief now, for he was collected and determined, but more emphatic – even with an oath. And once more he silenced suspicion for a time. Or, perhaps, attention was now otherwise directed.

3. For, already, hasty footsteps were heard along the porches and corridors, and the maid who that night opened the gate at the High-Priest’s Palace was busy at her post. They were the leading Priests, Elders, and Sanhedrists, who had been hastily summoned to the High-Priest’s Palace, and who were hurrying up just as the first faint streaks of gray light were lying on the sky. The private examination by Caiaphas we place (as in the Gospel of John) between the first and second denial of Peter; the first arrival of Sanhedrists immediately after his second denial. The private inquiry of Caiaphas had elicited nothing; and, indeed, it was only preliminary. The leading Sanhedrists must have been warned that the capture of Jesus would be attempted that night, and to hold themselves in readiness when summoned to the High-Priest. This is not only quite in accordance with all the previous and after circumstances in the narrative, but nothing short of a procedure of such supreme importance would have warranted the presence for such a purpose of these religious leaders on that holy Passover-night.

But whatever view be taken, thus much at least is certain, that it was no formal, regular meeting of the Sanhedrin. We put aside, as a priori reasoning, such considerations as that protesting voices would have been raised, not only from among the friends of Jesus, but from others whom (with all their Jewish hatred of Christ) we cannot but regard as incapable of such gross violation of justice and law. But all Jewish order and law would have been grossly infringed in almost every particular, if this had been a formal meeting of the Sanhedrin. We know what their forms were, although many of them (as so much in Rabbinic accounts) may represent rather the ideal than the real – what the Rabbis imagined should be, rather than what was; or else what may date from later times. According to Rabbinic testimony, there were three tribunals. In towns numbering less than 120 (or, according to one authority, 230) male inhabitants, there was only the lowest tribunal, that consisting of three Judges. Their jurisdiction was limited, and notably did not extend to capital causes. The authority of the tribunal of next instance – that of twenty-three – was also limited, although capital causes lay within its competence. The highest tribunal was that of seventy-one, or the Great Sanhedrin, which met first in one of the Temple-Chambers, the so-called lishkaṯ hagaziṯ – or Chamber of Hewn Stones – and at the time of which we write in ‘the booths of the sons of Annas.’ The Judges of all these Courts were equally set apart by ordination (semikhah), originally that of the laying on of hands. Ordination was conferred by three, of whom one at least must have been himself ordained, and able to trace up his ordination through Joshua to Moses. This, of course, on the theory that there had been a regular succession of ordained Teachers, not only up to Ezra, but beyond him to Joshua and Moses. The members of the tribunals of twenty-three were appointed by the Great Sanhedrin. The members of the tribunals of three were likewise appointed by the Great Sanhedrin, which entrusted to men, specially accredited and worthy, the duty of travelling through the towns of Palestine and appointing and ordaining in them the men best fitted for the office. The qualifications mentioned for the office remind us of those which Paul indicates as requisite for the Christian eldership.

Some inferences seem here of importance, as throwing light on early Apostolic arrangements – believing, as we do, that the outward form of the Church was in great measure derived from the Synagogue. First, we notice that there was regular ordination, and, at first at least, by the laying on of hands. Further, this ordination was not requisite either for delivering addresses or conducting the liturgy in the Synagogue, but for authoritative teaching, and especially for judicial functions, to which would correspond in the Christian Church the power of the Keys – the administration of discipline and of the Sacraments as admitting into, and continuing in the fellowship of the Church. Next, ordination could only be conferred by those who had themselves been rightly ordained, and who could, therefore, through those previously ordained, trace their ordination upwards. Again, each of these ‘Colleges of Presbyters’ had its Chief or President. Lastly, men entrusted with supreme (Apostolic) authority were sent to the various towns ‘to appoint elders in every city.’

The appointment to the highest tribunal, or Great Sanhedrin, was made by that tribunal itself, either by promoting a member of the inferior tribunals or one from the foremost of the three rows, in which ‘the disciples’ or students sat facing the Judges. The latter sat in a semicircle, under the presidency of the nasi (‘prince’) and the vice-presidency of the Abbeṯdin (‘father of the Court of Law’). At least twenty-three members were required to form a quorum. We have such minute details of the whole arrangements and proceedings of this Court as greatly confirms our impression of the chiefly ideal character of some of the Rabbinic notices. Facing the semicircle of Judges, we are told, there were two shorthand writers, to note down, respectively, the speeches in favour and against the accused. Each of the students knew, and sat in his own place. In capital causes the arguments in defence of and afterwards those incriminating the accused, were stated. If one had spoken in favour, he might not again speak against the panel. Students might speak for, not against him. He might be pronounced ‘not guilty’ on the same day on which the case was tried; but a sentence of ‘guilty’ might only be pronounced on the day following that of the trial. It seems, however, at least doubtful, whether in case of profanation of the Divine Name (ḥilul hashem), judgment was not immediately executed. Lastly, the voting began with the youngest, so that juniors might not be influenced by the seniors; and a bare majority was not sufficient for condemnation.

These are only some of the regulations laid down in Rabbinic writings. It is of greater importance to enquire, how far they were carried out under the iron rule of Herod and that of the Roman Procurators. Here we are in great measure left to conjecture. We can well believe that neither Herod nor the Procurators would wish to abolish the Sanhedrin, but would leave to them the administration of justice, especially in all that might in any way be connected with purely religious questions. Equally we can understand, that both would deprive them of the power of the sword and of decision on all matters of political or supreme importance. Herod would reserve to himself the final disposal in all cases, if he saw fit to interfere, and so would the Procurators, who especially would not have tolerated any attempt at jurisdiction over a Roman citizen. In short, the Sanhedrin would be accorded full jurisdiction in inferior and in religious matters, with the greatest show, but with the least amount, of real rule or of supreme authority. Lastly, as both Herod and the Procurators treated the High-Priest, who was their own creature, as the real head and representative of the Jews; and as it would be their policy to curtail the power of the independent and fanatical Rabbis, we can understand how, in great criminal causes or in important investigations, the High-Priest would always preside – the presidency of the nasi being reserved for legal and ritual questions and discussions. And with this the notices alike in the New Testament and in Josephus accord.

Even this brief summary about the Sanhedrin would be needless, if it were a question of applying its rules of procedure to the arraignment of Jesus. For, alike Jewish and Christian evidence establish the fact, that Jesus was not formally tried and condemned by the Sanhedrin. It is admitted on all hands, that forty years before the destruction of the Temple the Sanhedrin ceased to pronounce capital sentences. This alone would be sufficient. But, besides, the trial and sentence of Jesus in the Palace of Caiaphas would (as already stated) have outraged every principle of Jewish criminal law and procedure. Such causes could only be tried, and capital sentence pronounced, in the regular meeting-place of the Sanhedrin,  not, as here, in the High-Priest’s Palace; no process, least of all such an one, might be begun in the night, not even in the afternoon,  although if the discussion had gone on all day, sentence might be pronounced at night. Again, no process could take place on Sabbaths or Feastdays, or even on the eves of them,  although this would not have nullified proceedings, and it might be argued on the other side, that a process against one who had seduced the people should preferably be carried on, and sentence executed, at the great public Feasts, for the warning of all. Lastly, in capital causes there was a very elaborate system of warning and cautioning witnesses, while it may safely be affirmed, that at a regular trial Jewish Judges, however prejudiced, would not have acted as the Sanhedrists and Caiaphas did on this occasion.

But as we examine it more closely, we perceive that the Gospel narratives do not speak of a formal trial and sentence by the Sanhedrin. Such references as to ‘the Sanhedrin’ (‘council’), or to ‘all the Sanhedrin,’ must be taken in the wider sense, which will presently be explained. On the other hand, the four Gospels equally indicate that the whole proceedings of that night were carried on in the Palace of Caiaphas, and that during that night no formal sentence of death was pronounced. John, indeed, does not report the proceedings at all; Matthew only records the question of Caiaphas and the answer of the Sanhedrists; and even the language of Mark does not convey the idea of a formal sentence. And when in the morning, in consequence of a fresh consultation, also in the Palace of Caiaphas, they led Jesus to the Praetorium, it was not as a prisoner condemned to death of whom they asked the execution, but as one against whom they laid certain accusations worthy of death, while, when Pilate bade them judge Jesus according to Jewish Law, they replied, not: that they had done so already, but, that they had no competence to try capital causes.

4. But although Christ was not tried and sentenced in a formal meeting of the Sanhedrin, there can, alas! be no question that His Condemnation and Death were the work, if not of the Sanhedrin, yet of the Sanhedrists – of the whole body of them (‘all the council’), in the sense of expressing what was the judgment and purpose of all the Supreme Council and Leaders of Israel, with only very few exceptions. We bear in mind, that the resolution to sacrifice Christ had for some time been taken. Terrible as the proceedings of that night were, they even seem a sort of concession – as if the Sanhedrists would fain have found some legal and moral justification for what they had determined to do. They first sought ‘witness,’ or as Matthew rightly designates it, ‘false witness’ against Christ. Since this was throughout a private investigation, this witness could only have been sought from their own creatures. Hatred, fanaticism, and unscrupulous Eastern exaggeration would readily misrepresent and distort certain sayings of Christ, or falsely impute others to Him. But it was altogether too hasty and excited an assemblage, and the witnesses contradicted themselves so grossly, or their testimony so notoriously broke down, that for very shame such trumped-up charges had to be abandoned. And to this result the majestic calm of Christ’s silence must have greatly contributed. On directly false and contradictory testimony it must be best not to cross-examine at all, not to interpose, but to leave the false witness to destroy itself.

Abandoning this line of testimony, the Priests next brought forward probably some of their own order, who on the first Purgation of the Temple had been present when Jesus, in answer to the challenge for ‘a sign’ in evidence of His authority, had given them that mysterious ‘sign’ of the destruction and upraising of the Temple of His Body.  They had quite misunderstood it at the time, and its reproduction now as the ground of a criminal charge against Jesus must have been directly due to Caiaphas and Annas. We remember, that this had been the first time that Jesus had come into collision, not only with the Temple authorities, but with the avarice of ‘the family of Annas.’ We can imagine how the incensed High-Priest would have challenged the conduct of the Temple-officials, and how, in reply, he would have been told what they had attempted, and how Jesus had met them. Perhaps it was the only real inquiry which a man like Caiaphas would care to institute about what Jesus said. And here, in its grossly distorted form, and with more than Eastern exaggeration of partisanship it was actually brought forward as a criminal charge!

Dexterously manipulated, the testimony of these witnesses might lead up to two charges. It would show that Christ was a dangerous seducer of the people, Whose claims might have led those who believed them to lay violent hands on the Temple, while the supposed assertion, that He would or was able to build the Temple again within three days, might be made to imply Divine or magical pretensions. A certain class of writers have ridiculed this part of the Sanhedrist plot against Jesus. It is, indeed, true, that, viewed as a Jewish charge, it might have been difficult, if not impossible, to construe a capital crime out of such charges, although, to say the least, a strong popular prejudice might thus have been raised against Jesus – and this, no doubt, was one of the objects which Caiaphas had in view. But it has been strangely forgotten that the purpose of the High-Priest was not to formulate a capital charge in Jewish Law, since the assembled Sanhedrists had no intention so to try Jesus, but to formulate a charge which would tell before the Roman Procurator. And here none other could be so effective as that of being a fanatical seducer of the ignorant populace, who might lead them on to wild tumultuous acts. Two similar instances, in which the Romans quenched Jewish fanaticism in the blood of the pretenders and their deluded followers, will readily recur to the mind. In any case, Caiaphas would naturally seek to ground his accusation of Jesus before Pilate on anything rather than His claims to Messiahship and the inheritance of David. It would be a cruel irony if a Jewish High-Priest had to expose the loftiest and holiest hope of Israel to the mockery of a Pilate; and it might prove a dangerous proceeding, whether as regarded the Roman Governor or the feelings of the Jewish people.

But this charge of being a seducer of the people also broke down through the disagreement of the two witnesses whom the Mosaic Law required, and who, according to Rabbinic ordinance, had to be separately questioned But the divergence of their testimony does not exactly appear in the differences in the accounts of Matthew and of Mark. If it be deemed necessary to harmonise these two narratives, it would be better to regard both as relating the testimony of these two witnesses. What Mark reported, may have been followed by what Matthew records, or vice versa, the one being, so to speak, the basis of the other. But all this time Jesus preserved the same majestic silence as before, nor could the impatience of Caiaphas, who sprang from his seat to confront, and, if possible, browbeat his Prisoner, extract from Him any reply.

Only one thing now remained. Jesus know it well, and so did Caiaphas. It was to put the question, which Jesus could not refuse to answer, and which, once answered, must lead either to His acknowledgment or to His condemnation. In the brief historical summary which Luke furnishes, there is an inversion of the sequence of events by which it might seem as if what he records had taken place at the meeting of the Sanhedrists on the next morning. But a careful consideration of what passed there obliges us to regard the report of Luke as referring to the night-meeting described by Matthew and Mark. The motive for Luke’s inversion of the sequence of events may have been, that he wished to group in a continuous narrative Peter’s threefold denial, the third of which occurred after the night-sitting of the Sanhedrin, at which the final adjuration of Caiaphas elicited the reply which Luke records, as well as the other two Evangelists. Be this as it may, we owe to Luke another trait in the drama of that night. As we suppose, the simple question was first addressed to Jesus, whether He was the Messiah? to which He replied by referring to the needlessness of such an enquiry, since they had predetermined not to credit His claims, nay, had only a few days before in the Temple refused to discuss them. It was upon this that the High-Priest, in the most solemn manner, adjured the True One by the Living God, Whose Son He was, to say it, whether He were the Messiah and Divine – the two being so joined together, not in Jewish belief, but to express the claims of Jesus. No doubt or hesitation could here exist. Solemn, emphatic, calm, majestic, as before had been His silence, was now His speech. And His assertion of what He was, was conjoined with that of what God would show Him to be, in His Resurrection and Sitting at the Right Hand of the ‘Father, and of what they also would see, when He would come in those clouds of heaven that would break over their city and polity in the final storm of judgment.

They all heard it – and, as the Law directed when blasphemy was spoken, the High Priest rent both his outer and inner garment, with a rent that might never be repaired. But the object was attained. Christ would neither explain, modify, nor retract His claims. They had all heard it; what use was there of witnesses, He had spoken gidup̱a, ‘blaspheming.’ Then, turning to those assembled, he put to them the usual question which preceded the formal sentence of death. As given in the Rabbinical original, it is: ‘What think ye gentlemen? And they answered, if for life, “For life!” and if for death, “For death.”’ But the formal sentence of death, which, if it had been a regular meeting of the Sanhedrin must now have been spoken by the President, was not pronounced.

There is a curious Jewish conceit, that on the Day of Atonement the golden band on the High Priest’s mitre, with the graven words, ‘Holiness unto Jehovah,’ atoned for those who had blasphemed. It stands out in terrible contrast to the figure of Caiaphas on that awful night. Or did the unseen mitre on the True and Eternal High-Priest’s Brow, marking the consecration of His Humiliation to Jehovah, plead for them who in that night were gathered there, the blind leaders of the blind? Yet amidst so many most solemn thoughts, some press prominently forward. On that night of terror when all the enmity of man and the power of hell were unchained, even the falsehood of malevolence could not lay any crime to His charge, nor yet any accusation be brought against Him other than the misrepresentation of His symbolic Words. What testimony to Him this solitary false and ill-according witness! Again: ‘They all condemned Him to be worthy of death.’ Judaism itself would not now re-echo this sentence of the Sanhedrists. And yet is it not after all true – that He was either the Christ, the Son of God, or a blasphemer? This Man, alone so calm and majestic among those impassioned false judges and false witnesses; majestic in His silence, majestic in His speech; unmoved by threats to speak, undaunted by threats when He spoke; Who saw it all – the end from the beginning; the Judge among His judges, the Witness before His witnesses: which was He – the Christ or a blaspheming impostor? Let history decide; let the heart and conscience of mankind give answer. If He had been what Israel said, He deserved the death of the Cross; if He is what the Christmas-bells of the Church, and the chimes of the Resurrection-morning ring out, then do we rightly worship Him as the Son of the Living God, the Christ, the Saviour of men.

5. It was after this meeting of the Sanhedrists had broken up, that, as we learn from the Gospel of Luke, the revolting insults and injuries were perpetrated on Him by the guards and servants of Caiaphas. All now rose in combined rebellion against the Perfect Man: the abject servility of the East, which delighted in insults on One Whom it could never have vanquished, and had not even dared to attack; that innate vulgarity, which loves to trample on fallen greatness, and to deck out in its own manner a triumph where no victory has been won; the brutality of the worse than animal in man (since in him it is not under the guidance of Divine instinct), and which, when unchained, seems to intensify in coarseness and ferocity; and the profanity and devilry which are wont to apply the wretched witticisms of what is misnomered common sense and the blows of tyrannical usurpation of power to all that is higher and better, to what these men cannot grasp and dare not look up to, and before the shadows of which, when cast by superstition, they cower and tremble in abject fear! And yet these insults, taunts, and blows which fell upon that lonely Sufferer, not defenseless, but undefending, not vanquished, but uncontending, not helpless, but majestic in voluntary self-submission for the highest purpose of love – have not only exhibited the curse of humanity, but also removed it by letting it descend on Him, the Perfect Man, the Christ, the Son of God. And ever since has every noble hearted sufferer been able on the strangely clouded day to look up, and follow what, as it touches earth, is the black misty shadow, to where, illumined by light from behind, it passes into the golden light – a mantle of darkness as it enwraps us, merging in light up there where its folds seem held together by the Hand from heaven.

This is our Sufferer – the Christ or a blasphemer; and in that alternative which of us would not choose the part of the Accused rather than of His judges? So far as recorded, not a word escaped His Lips; not a complaint, nor murmur; nor utterance of indignant rebuke, nor sharp cry of deeply sensitive, pained nature. He was drinking, slowly, with the consciousness of willing self-surrender, the Cup which His Father had given Him. And still His Father – and this also specially in His Messianic relationship to man.

We have seen that, when Caiaphas and the Sanhedrists quitted the audience-chamber, Jesus was left to the unrestrained licence of the attendants. Even the Jewish Law had it, that no ‘prolonged death’ (miṯah Arikhta) might be inflicted, and that he who was condemned to death was not to be previously scourged. At last they were weary of insult and smiting, and the Sufferer was left alone, perhaps in the covered gallery, or at one of the windows that overlooked the court below. About one hour had passed since Peter’s second denial had, so to speak, been interrupted by the arrival of the Sanhedrists. Since then the excitement of the mock-trial, with witnesses coming and going, and, no doubt, in Eastern fashion repeating what had passed to those gathered in the court around the fire; then the departure of the Sanhedrists, and again the insults and blows inflicted on the Sufferer, had diverted attention from Peter. Now it turned once more upon him; and, in the circumstances, naturally more intensely than before. The chattering of Peter, whom conscience and consciousness made nervously garrulous, betrayed him. This one also was with Jesus the Nazarene; truly, he was of them – for he was also a Galilean! So spake the bystanders; while, according to John, a fellow-servant and kinsman of that Malchus, whose ear Peter, in his zeal, had cut off in Gethsemane, asserted that he actually recognised him. To one and all these declarations Peter returned only a more vehement denial, accompanying it this time with oaths to God and imprecations on himself.

The echo of his words had scarcely died out – their diastole had scarcely returned them with gurgling noise upon his conscience – when loud and shrill the second cock-crowing was heard. There was that in its harsh persistence of sound that also wakened his memory. He now remembered the words of warning prediction which the Lord had spoken. He looked up; and as he looked, he saw, how up there, just at that moment; the Lord turned round and looked upon him – yes, in all that assembly, upon Peter! His eyes spake His Words; nay, much more; they searched down to the innermost depths of Peter’s heart, and broke them open. They had pierced through all self-delusion, false shame, and fear: they had reached the man, the disciple, the lover of Jesus. Forth they burst, the waters of conviction, of true shame, of heart-sorrow, of the agonies of self-condemnation; and, bitterly weeping, he rushed from under those suns that had melted the ice of death and burnt into his heart – out from that cursed place of betrayal by Israel, by, its High Priest – and; even by the representative Disciple.

Out he rushed into the night. Yet a night lit up by the stars of promise – chiefest among them this, that the Christ up there – the conquering Sufferer – had prayed for him. God grant us in the night of our conscious self-condemnation the same star-light of His Promises, the same assurance of the intercession of the Christ, that so as Luther puts it, the particularness of the account of Peter’s denial, as compared with the briefness of that of Christ’s Passion, may carry to our hearts this lesson: ‘The fruit and use of the sufferings of Christ is this, that in them we have the forgiveness of our sins.’

(Mat_27:1, Mat_27:2, Mat_27:11-14; Mar_15:1-5; Luk_23:1-5; Joh_18:28-38; Luk_23:6-12; Mat_27:3-10; Mat_27:15-18; Mar_15:6-10; Luk_23:13-17; Joh_18:39, Joh_18:40; Mat_27:19; Mat_27:20-31; Mar_15:11-20; Luk_23:18-25; Joh 19:1-16)

The pale grey light had passed into that of early morning, when the Sanhedrists once more assembled in the Palace of Caiaphas. A comparison with the terms in which they who had formed the gathering of the previous night are described will convey the impression, that the number of those present was now increased, and that they who now came belonged to the wisest and most influential of the Council. It is not unreasonable to suppose, that some who would not take part in deliberations which were virtually a judicial murder might, once the resolution was taken, feel in Jewish casuistry absolved from guilt in advising how the informal sentence might best be carried into effect. It was this, and not the question of Christ’s guilt, which formed the subject of deliberation on that early morning. The result of it was to ‘bind’ Jesus and hand Him over as a malefactor to Pilate, with the resolve, if possible, not to frame any definite charge; but, if this became necessary, to lay all the emphasis on the purely political not the religious aspect of the claims of Jesus. 

To us it may seem strange, that they who, in the lowest view of it, had committed so grossly unrighteous, and were now coming on so cruel and bloody a deed, should have been prevented by religious scruples from entering the ‘Praetorium.’ And yet the student of Jewish casuistry will understand it; nay, alas, history and even common observation furnish only too many parallel instances of unscrupulous scrupulosity and unrighteous conscientiousness. Alike conscience and religiousness are only moral tendencies natural to man; whither they tend, must be decided by considerations outside of them: by enlightenment and truth. The ‘Praetorium,’ to which the Jewish leaders, or at least those of them who represented the leaders – for neither Annas nor Caiaphas seems to have been personally present – brought the bound Christ, was (as always in the provinces) the quarters occupied by the Roman Governor. In Caesarea this was the Palace of Herod, and there Paul was afterwards a prisoner. But in Jerusalem there were two such quarters: the fortress Antonia, and the magnificent Palace of Herod at the north-western angle of the Upper City. Although it is impossible to speak with certainty, the balance of probability is entirely in favour of the view that, when Pilate was in Jerusalem with his wife, he occupied the truly royal abode of Herod and not the fortified barracks of Antonia. From the slope at the eastern angle, opposite the Temple-Mount, where the Palace of Caiaphas stood, up the narrow streets of the Upper City, the melancholy procession wound to the portals of the grand Palace of Herod. It is recorded, that they who brought Him would not themselves enter the portals of the Palace, ‘that they might not be defiled, but might eat the Passover.’

Few expressions have given rise to more earnest controversy than this. On two things at least we can speak with certainty. Entrance into a heathen house did Levitically render impure for that day – that is, till the evening. The fact of such defilement is clearly attested both in the New Testament and in the Mishnah, though its reasons might be various. A person who had so become Levitically unclean was technically called teḇul yom (‘bathed of the day’). The other point is, that, to have so become ‘impure’ for the day, would not have disqualified for eating the Paschal Lamb, since the meal was partaken of after the evening, and when a new day had begun. In fact, it is distinctly laid down that the ‘bathed of the day,’ that is, he who had been impure for the day and had bathed in the evening, did partake of the Paschal Supper, and an instance is related, when some soldiers who had guarded the gates of Jerusalem immersed, and ate the Paschal Lamb. It follows that those Sanhedrists could not have abstained from entering the Palace of Pilate because by so doing they would have been disqualified for the Paschal Supper.

The point is of importance, because many writers have interpreted the expression ‘the Passover’ as referring to the Paschal Supper, and have argued that, according to the Fourth Gospel, our Lord did not on the previous evening partake of the Paschal Lamb, or else that in this respect the account of the Fourth Gospel does not accord with that of the Synoptists. But as, for the reason just stated, it is impossible to refer the expression ‘Passover’ to the Paschal Supper, we have only to inquire whether the term is not also applied to other offerings. And here both the Old Testament and Jewish writings show, that the term pesaḥ, or ‘Passover,’ was applied not only to the Paschal Lamb, but to all the Passover sacrifices, especially, to, what was called the ḥagigah, or festive offering (from ḥag, or ḥagag, to bring the festive sacrifice usual at each of the three Great Feasts).’ According to the express rule (Chag. i. 3) the ḥagigah was brought on the first festive Paschal Day. It was offered immediately after the morning-service, and eaten on that day – probably some time before the evening, when as we shall by-and-by see, another ceremony claimed public attention. We can therefore quite understand that, not on the eve of the Passover, but on the first Paschal day, the Sanhedrists would avoid incurring a defilement which, lasting till the evening, would not only have involved them in the inconvenience of Levitical defilement on the first festive day, but have actually prevented their offering on that day the Passover, festive sacrifice, or ḥagigah. For, we have these two express rules: that a person could not in Levitical defilement offer the ḥagigah: and that the ḥagigah could not be offered for a person by some one else who took his place (Je Chag. 76a, lines 16 to 14 from bottom). These considerations and canons seem decisive as regards the views above expressed. There would have been no reason to fear ‘defilement’ on the morning of the Paschal Sacrifice; but entrance into the Praetorium on the morning of the first Passover-day would have rendered it impossible for them to offer the ḥagigah, which is also designated by the term pesaḥ.

It may have been about seven in the morning, probably even earlier, when Pilate went out to those who summoned him to dispense justice. The question which he addressed to them seems to have startled and disconcerted them. Their procedure had been private; it was of the very essence of proceedings at Roman Law that they were in public. Again, the procedure before the Sanhedrists had been in the form of a criminal investigation, while it was of the essence of Roman procedure to enter only on definite accusations. Accordingly, the first question of Pilate was, what accusation they brought against Jesus. The question would come upon them the more unexpectedly, that Pilate must, on the previous evening, have given his consent to the employment of the Roman guard which effected the arrest of Jesus. Their answer displays humiliation, ill-humour, and an attempt at evasion. If He had not been ‘a malefactor,’ they would not have ‘delivered’ Him up! On this vague charge Pilate, in whom we mark throughout a strange reluctance to proceed – perhaps from unwillingness to please the Jews, perhaps from a desire to wound their feelings on the tenderest point, perhaps because restrained by a Higher Hand – refused to proceed. He proposed that the Sanhedrists should try Jesus according to Jewish Law. This is another important trait, as apparently implying that Pilate had been previously aware both of the peculiar claims of Jesus, and that the action of the Jewish authorities had been determined by ‘envy.’ But, under ordinary circumstances, Pilate would not have wished to hand over a person accused of so grave a charge as that of setting up Messianic claims to the Jewish’ authorities, to try the case as a merely religious question. Taking this in connection with the other fact, apparently inconsistent with it, that on the previous evening the Governor had given a Roman guard for the arrest of the prisoner, and with this other fact of the dream and warning of Pilate’s wife, a peculiar impression is conveyed to us. We can understand it all, if, on the previous evening, after the Roman guard had been granted, Pilate had spoken of it to his wife, whether because he knew her to be, or because she might be interested in the matter. Tradition has given her the name Procula; an Apocryphal Gospel describes her as a convert to Judaism; while the Greek Church has actually placed her in the Catalogue of Saints. What if the truth lay between these statements, and Procula had not only been a proselyte, like the wife of a previous Roman Governor, but known about Jesus and spoken of Him to Pilate on that evening? This would best explain his reluctance to condemn Jesus, as well as her dream of Him.

As the Jewish authorities had to decline the Governor’s offer to proceed against Jesus before their own tribunal, on the avowed ground that, they had not power to pronounce capital sentence, it now behoved them to formulate a capital charge. This recorded by Luke alone. It was, that Jesus had said, He Himself was Christ a King. It will be noted, that in so saying they falsely imputed to Jesus their own political expectations concerning the Messiah. But even this is not all. They prefaced it by this, that He perverted the nation and forbade to give tribute to Caesar. The latter charge was so grossly unfounded, that we can only regard it as in their mind a necessary inference from the premiss that He claimed to be King. And, as telling most against Him, they put this first and foremost, treating the inference as if it were a fact – a practice this only too common in controversies, political, religious, or private.

This charge of the Sanhedrists explains what, according to all the Evangelists, passed within the Praetorium. We presume that Christ was within, probably in charge of some guards. The words of the Sanhedrists brought peculiar thoughts to Pilate. He now called Jesus and asked Him: ‘Thou art the King of the Jews?’ There is that mixture of contempt, cynicism, and awe in this question which we mark throughout in the bearing and words of Pilate. It was, as if two powers were contending for the mastery in his heart. By the side of uniform contempt for all that was Jewish, and of that general cynicism which could not believe in the existence of anything higher, we mark a feeling of awe in regard to Christ, even though the feeling may partly have been of superstition. Out of all that the Sanhedrists had said, Pilate took only this, that Jesus claimed to be a King. Christ, Who had not heard the charge of His accusers, now ignored it, in His desire to stretch out salvation even to a Pilate. Not heeding the implied irony, He first put it to Pilate, whether the question – be it criminal charge or inquiry – was his own, or merely the repetition of what His Jewish accusers had told Pilate of Him. The Governor quickly disowned any personal inquiry. How could he raise any such question? he was not a Jew, and the subject had no general interest. Jesus’ own nation and its leaders had handed Him over as a criminal: what had He done?

The answer of Pilate left nothing else for Him Who, even in that supreme hour, thought only of others, not of Himself, but to bring before the Roman directly that truth for which his words had given the opening. It was not, as Pilate had implied, a Jewish question: it was one of absolute truth; it concerned all men. The Kingdom of Christ was not of this world at all, either Jewish or Gentile. Had it been otherwise, He would have led His followers to a contest for His claims and aims, and not have become a prisoner of the Jews. One word only in all this struck Pilate. ‘So then a King art Thou!’ He was incapable of apprehending the higher thought and truth. We mark in his words the same mixture of scoffing and misgiving. Pilate was now in no doubt as to the nature of the Kingdom; his exclamation and question applied to the Kingship. That fact Christ would now emphasise in the glory of His Humiliation. He accepted what Pilate said; He adopted his words. But He added to them an appeal, or rather an explanation of His claims, such as a heathen, and a Pilate, could understand. His Kingdom was not of this world, but of that other world which He had come to reveal, and to open to all believers. Here was the truth! His Birth or Incarnation, as the Sent of the Father, and His own voluntary Coming into this world – for both are referred to in His words – had it for their object to testify of the truth concerning that other world, of which was His Kingdom. This was no Jewish-Messianic Kingdom, but one that appealed to all men. And all who had moral affinity to ‘the truth’ would listen to His testimony, and so come to own Him as ‘King.’

But these words struck only a hollow void, as they fell on Pilate. It was not merely cynicism, but utter despair of all that is higher – a moral suicide – which appears in his question: ‘What is truth?’ He had understood Christ, but it was not in him to respond to His appeal. He, whose heart and life had so little kinship to ‘the truth,’ could not sympathise with, though he dimly perceived, the grand aim of Jesus’ Life and Work. But even the question of Pilate seems an admission, an implied homage to Christ. Assuredly, he would not have so opened his inner being to one of the priestly accusers of Jesus.

That man was no rebel, no criminal! They who brought Him were moved by the lowest passions. And so he told them, as he went out, that he found no fault in Him. Then came from the assembled Sanhedrists a perfect hailstorm of accusations. As we picture it to ourselves, all this while the Christ stood near, perhaps behind Pilate, just within the portals of the Praetorium. And to, all this clamour of charges He made no reply. It was as if the surging of the wild waves broke far beneath against the base of the rock, which, untouched, reared its head far aloft to the heavens. But as He stood in the calm silence of Majesty, Pilate greatly wondered. Did this Man not even fear death; was He so conscious of innocence, so infinitely superior to those around and against Him, or had He so far conquered Death, that He would not condescend to their words? And why then had He spoken to him of His Kingdom and of that truth?

Fain would he have withdrawn from it all; not that he was moved for absolute truth or by the personal innocence of the Sufferer, but that there was that in the Christ which, perhaps for the first time in his life, had made him reluctant to be unrighteous and unjust. And so, when amidst these confused cries, he caught the name Galilee as the scene of Jesus’ labours, he gladly seized on what offered the prospect of devolving the responsibility on another. Jesus was a Galilean, and therefore belonged to the jurisdiction of King Herod. To Herod, therefore, who had come for the Feast to Jerusalem, and there occupied the old Maccabean Palace, close to that of the High-Priest, Jesus was now sent. 

To Luke alone we owe the account of what passed there, as, indeed, of so many traits in this last scene of the terrible drama. The opportunity now offered was welcome to Herod. It was a mark of reconciliation (or might be viewed as such) between himself and the Roman, and in a manner flattering to himself, since the first step had been taken by the Governor, and that, by an almost ostentatious acknowledgment of the rights of the Tetrarch, on which possibly their former feud may have turned. Besides, Herod had long wished to see Jesus, of Whom he had heard so many things. In that hour coarse curiosity, a hope of seeing some magic performances, was the only feeling that moved the Tetrarch. But in vain did he ply Christ with questions. He was as silent to him as formerly against the virulent charges of the Sanhedrists. But a Christ Who would or could do no signs, nor even kindle into the same denunciations as the Baptist, was, to the coarse realism of Antipas, only a helpless figure that might be insulted and scoffed at, as did the Tetrarch and his men of war. And so Jesus was once more sent back to the Praetorium.

It is in the interval during which Jesus was before Herod, probably soon afterwards, that we place the last weird scene in the life of Judas, recorded by Matthew. We infer this from the circumstance, that, on the return of Jesus from Herod, the Sanhedrists do not seem to have been present, since Pilate had to call them together, presumably from the Temple. And here we recall that the Temple was close to the Maccabean Palace. Lastly, the impression left on our minds is, that henceforth the principal part before Pilate was sustained by ‘the people,’ the Priests and Scribes rather instigating them than conducting the case against Jesus. It may therefore well have been, that, when the Sanhedrists went from the Maccabean Palace into the Temple, as might be expected on that day, only a part of them returned to the Praetorium on the summons of Pilate.

But, however that may have been, sufficient had already passed to convince Judas what the end would be. Indeed, it is difficult to believe that he could have deceived himself on this point from the first, however he had failed to realise the fact in its terrible import till after his deed. The words which Jesus had spoken to him in the Garden must have burnt into his soul. He was among the soldiery that fell back at His look. Since then Jesus had been led bound to Annas, to Caiaphas, to the Praetorium, to Herod. Even if Judas had not been present at any of these occasions, and we do not suppose that his conscience had allowed this, all Jerusalem must by that time have been full of the report, probably in even exaggerated form. One thing he saw: that Jesus was condemned. Judas did not ‘repent’ in the Scriptural sense; but ‘a change of mind and feeling’ came over him. Even had Jesus been an ordinary man, and the relation to Him of Judas been the ordinary one, we could understand his feelings, especially considering his ardent temperament. The instant before and after sin represents the difference of feeling as portrayed in the history of the Fall of our first parents. With the commission of sin, all the bewitching, intoxicating influence, which incited to it, has passed away, and only the naked fact remains. All the glamour has been dispelled; all the reality abideth. If we knew it, probably scarcely one out of many criminals but would give all he has, nay, life itself, if he could recall the deed done, or awake from it to find it only an evil dream. But it cannot be; and the increasingly terrible is, that it is done, and done for ever. Yet this is not ‘repentance,’ or, at least, God alone knows, whether it is such; it may be, and in the case of Judas it only was ‘change of mind and feeling’ towards Jesus. Whether this might have passed into repentance, whether, if he had cast himself at the Feet of Jesus, as undoubtedly he might have done, this would have been so, we need not here ask. The mind and feelings of Judas, as regarded the deed he had done, and as regarded Jesus, were now quite other; they became increasingly so with ever-growing intensity. The road, the streets, the people’s faces – all seemed now to bear witness against him and for Jesus. He read it everywhere; he felt it always; he imagined it, till his whole being was on flame. What had been; what was; what would be! Heaven and earth receded from him; there were voices in the air, and pangs in the soul – and no escape, help, counsel, or hope anywhere.

It was despair, and his a desperate resolve. He must get rid of these thirty pieces of silver, which, like thirty serpents, coiled round his soul with terrible hissing of death. Then at least his deed would have nothing of the selfish in it: only a terrible error, a mistake, to which he had been incited by these Sanhedrists. Back to them with the money, and let them have it again! And so forward he pressed amidst the wondering crowd, which would give way before that haggard face with the wild eyes, that crime had made old in those few hours, till he came upon that knot of priests and Sanhedrists, perhaps at that very moment speaking of it all. A most unwelcome sight and intrusion on them, this necessary but odious figure in the drama – belonging to its past, and who should rest in its obscurity. But he would be heard; nay, his words would cast the burden on them to share it with him, as with hoarse cry he broke into this: ‘I have sinned – in that I have betrayed – innocent blood!’ They turned from him with impatience, in contempt as so often the seducer turns from the seduced – and, God help such, with the same fiendish guilt of hell: ‘What is that to us? See thou to it!’ And presently they were again deep in conversation or consultation. For a moment he stared wildly before him, the very thirty pieces of silver that had been weighed to him, and which he, had now brought back, and would fain have given them, still clutched in his hand. For a moment only, and then he wildly rushed forward, towards the Sanctuary itself, probably to where the Court of Israel bounded on that of the Priests, where generally the penitents stood in waiting, while in the Priests’ Court the sacrifice was offered for them. He bent forward, and with all his might hurled from him those thirty pieces of silver, so that each resounded as it fell on the marble pavement.

Out he rushed from the Temple, out of Jerusalem, ‘into solitude.’ Whither shall it be? Down into the horrible solitude of the Valley of Hinnom, the ‘Tophet’ of old, with its ghastly memories, the Gehenna of the future, with its ghostly associations. But it was not solitude, for it seemed now peopled with figures, faces, sounds. Across the Valley, and up the steep sides of the mountain! We are now on ‘the potter’s field’ of Jeremiah – somewhat to the west above where the Kidron and Hinnom valleys merge. It is cold, soft clayey soil, where the footsteps slip, or are held in clammy bonds. Here jagged rocks rise perpendicularly: perhaps there was some gnarled, bent, stunted tree. Up there he climbed to the top of that rock. Now slowly and deliberately he unwound the long girdle that held his garment. It was the girdle in which he had carried those thirty pieces of silver. He was now quite calm and collected. With that girdle he will hang himself on that tree close by, and when he has fastened it, he will throw himself off from that jagged rock.

It is done; but as, unconscious, not yet dead perhaps, he swung heavily on that branch, under the unwonted burden the girdle gave way, or perhaps the knot, which his trembling hands had made, unloosed, and he fell heavily forward among the jagged rocks beneath, and perished in the manner of which Peter reminded his fellow-disciples in the days before Pentecost.  But in the Temple the priests knew not what to do with these thirty pieces of money. Their unscrupulous scrupulosity came again upon them. It was not lawful to take into the Temple-treasury, for the purchase of sacred things, money that had been unlawfully gained. In such cases the Jewish Law provided that the money was to be restored to the donor, and, if he insisted on giving it, that he should be induced to spend it for something for the public weal. This explains the apparent discrepancy between the accounts in the Book of Acts and by Matthew. By a fiction of law the money was still considered to be Judas’, and to have been applied by him in the purchase of the well-known ‘potter’s field,’ for the charitable purpose of burying in it strangers. But from henceforth the old name of ‘potter’s field,’ became popularly changed into that of ‘field of blood’ (haqal dema). And yet it was the act of Israel through its leaders: ‘they took the thirty pieces of silver – the price of him that was valued, whom they of the children of Israel did value, and gave them for the potter’s field!’ It was all theirs, though they would have fain made it all Judas’: the valuing, the selling, and the purchasing. And ‘the potter’s field’ – the very spot on which Jeremiah had been Divinely directed to prophesy against Jerusalem and against Israel: b how was it now all fulfilled in the light of the completed sin and apostasy of the people, as prophetically described by Zechariah! This Tophet of Jeremiah, now that they had valued and sold at thirty shekels Israel’s Messiah-Shepherd – truly a Tophet, and become a field of blood! Surely, not an accidental coincidence this, that it should be the place of Jeremy’s announcement of judgment: not accidental, but veritably a fulfilment of his prophecy! And so Matthew, targuming this prophecy in form as in its spirit, and in true Jewish manner stringing to it the prophetic description furnished by Zechariah, sets the event before us as the fulfilment of Jeremy’s prophecy.

We are once more outside the Praetorium, to which Pilate had summoned from the Temple Sanhedrists and people. The crowd was momentarily increasing from the town. It was not only to see what was about to happen, but to witness another spectacle, that of the release of a prisoner. For it seems to have been the custom, that at the Passover the Roman Governor released to the Jewish populace some notorious prisoner who lay condemned to death. A very significant custom of release this, for which they now began to clamour. It may have been, that to this also they were incited by the Sanhedrist who mingled among them. For if the stream of popular sympathy might be diverted to Bar-Abbas, the doom of Jesus would be the more securely fixed. On the present occasion it might be the more easy to influence the people, since Bar-Abbas belonged to that class, not uncommon at the time, which, under the colourable pretence of political aspirations, committed robbery and other crimes. But these movements had deeply struck root in popular sympathy. A strange name and figure, Bar-Abbas. That could scarcely have been his real name. It means ‘Son of the Father.’ Was he a political Anti-Christ? And why, if there had not been some conjunction between them, should Pilate have proposed the alternative of Jesus or Bar-Abbas, and not rather that of one of the two malefactors who were actually crucified with Jesus?

But when the Governor hoping to enlist some popular sympathy, put this alternative to them – nay, urged it, on the ground that neither he nor yet Herod had found any crime in Him, and would even have appeased their thirst for vengeance by offering to submit Jesus to the cruel punishment of scourging, it was in vain. It was now that Pilate sat down on ‘the judgment seat.’ But ere he could proceed, came that message from his wife about her dream, and the warning entreaty to have nothing to do ‘with that righteous man.’ An omen such as a dream, and an appeal connected with it, especially in the circumstances of that trial, would powerfully impress a Roman. And for a few moments it seemed as if the appeal to popular feeling on behalf of Jesus might have been successful. But once more the Sanhedrists prevailed. Apparently, all who had been followers of Jesus had been scattered. None of them seem to have been there and if one or another feeble voice might have been raised for Him, it was hushed in fear of the Sanhedrists. It was Bar-Abbas for whom, incited by the priesthood, the populace now clamoured with increasing vehemence. To the question – half bitter, half mocking – what they wished him to do with Him Whom their own leaders had in their accusation called ‘King of the Jews,’ surged back, louder and louder, the terrible cry: ‘Crucify him!’ That such a cry should have been raised, and raised by Jews, and before the Roman, and against Jesus, are in themselves almost inconceivable facts, to which the history of these eighteen centuries has made terrible echo. In vain Pilate expostulated, reasoned, appealed. Popular frenzy only grew as it was opposed.

All reasoning having failed, Pilate had recourse to one more expedient, which, under ordinary circumstances, would have, been effective. When a Judge, after having declared the innocence of the accused, actually rises from the judgment-seat, and by a symbolic act pronounces the execution of the accused a judicial murder, from all participation in which he wishes solemnly to clear himself, surely no jury would persist in demanding sentence of death. But in the present instance there was even more. Although we find allusions to some such custom among the heathen, that which here took place was an essentially Jewish rite, which must have appealed the more forcibly to the Jews that it was done by Pilate. And, not only the rite, but the very words were Jewish. They recall not merely the rite prescribed in Deu_21:6, etc., to mark the freedom from guilt of the elders of a city where untracked murder had been committed, but the very words of such Old Testament expressions as in 2Sa_3:28, and Psa_26:6, Psa_73:13, and, in later times, in Sus. vs. 46. The Mishnah bears witness that this rite was continued. As administering justice in Israel, Pilate must have been aware of this rite. It does not affect the question, whether or not a judge could, especially in the circumstances recorded, free himself from guilt. Certainly, he could not; but such conduct on the part of a Pilate appears so utterly unusual, as, indeed, his whole bearing towards Christ, that we can only account for it by the deep impression which Jesus had made upon him. All the more terrible would be the guilt of Jewish resistance. There is something overawing in Pilate’s, ‘See ye to it’ – a reply to the Sanhedrists’ ‘See thou to it,’ to Judas, and in the same words. It almost seems, as if the scene of mutual imputation of guilt in the Garden of Eden were being re-enacted. The Mishnah tells us, that, after the solemn washing of hands of the elders and their disclaimer of guilt, priests responded with this prayer: ‘Forgive it to Thy people Israel, whom Thou hast redeemed, O Lord, and lay not innocent blood upon Thy people Israel!’ But here, in answer to Pilate’s words, came back that deep, hoarse cry: ‘His Blood be upon us,’ and – God help us! – ‘on our children!’ Some thirty years later, and on that very spot, was judgment pronounced against some of the best in Jerusalem; and among the 3,600 victims of the Governor’s fury, of whom not a few were scourged and crucified right over against the Praetorium, were many of the noblest of the citizens of Jerusalem. A few years more, and hundreds of crosses bore Jewish mangled bodies within sight of Jerusalem. And still have these wanderers seemed to bear, from century to century, and from land to land, that burden of blood; and still does it seem to weigh ‘on us and our children.’

The Evangelists have passed as rapidly as possible over the last scenes of indignity and horror, and we are too thankful to follow their example. Bar-Abbas was at once released. Jesus was handed over to the soldiery to be scourged and crucified, although final and formal judgment had not yet been pronounced. Indeed, Pilate seems to have hoped that the horrors of the scourging might still move the people to desist from the ferocious cry for the Cross. For the same reason we may, also hope, that the scourging was not inflicted with the same ferocity as in the case of Christian martyrs, when, with the object of eliciting the incrimination of others, or else recantation, the scourge of leather thongs was loaded with lead, or armed with spikes and bones, which lacerated back, and chest, and face, till the victim sometimes fell down before the judge a bleeding mass of torn flesh. But, however modified, and without repeating the harrowing realism of a Cicero, scourging was the terrible introduction to crucifixion – ‘the intermediate death.’ Stripped of His clothes, His hands tied and back bent, the Victim would be bound to a column or stake, in front of the Praetorium. The scourging ended, the soldiery would hastily cast upon Him His upper garments, and lead Him back into the Praetorium. Here they called the whole cohort together, and the silent, faint Sufferer became the object of their ribald jesting. From His bleeding Body they tore the clothes, and in mockery arrayed Him in scarlet or purple. For crown they wound together thorns, and for sceptre they placed in His Hand a reed. Then alternately, in mock proclamation they hailed Him King, or worshipped Him as God, and smote Him or heaped on Him other indignities.

Such a spectacle might well have disarmed enmity and for ever allayed worldly fears. And so Pilate had hoped, when, at his bidding, Jesus came forth from the Praetorium, arrayed as a mock-king, and the Governor presented Him to the populace in words which, the Church has ever since treasured: ‘Behold the Man!’ But, so far from appeasing, the sight only incited to fury the ‘chief priests’ and their subordinates. This Man before them was the occasion, that on this Paschal Day a heathen dared in Jerusalem itself insult their deepest feelings, mock their most cherished Messianic hopes! ‘Crucify!’ ‘Crucify!’ resounded from all sides. Once more Pilate appealed to them, when, unwittingly and unwillingly, it elicited this from the people, that Jesus had claimed to be the Son of God.

If nothing else, what light it casts on the mode in which Jesus had borne Himself amidst those tortures and insults, that this statement of the Jews filled Pilate with fear, and led him to seek again converse with Jesus within the Praetorium. The impression which had been made at the first, and been deepened all along, had now passed into the terror of superstition. His first question to Jesus was, whence He was? And when, as was most fitting – since he could not have understood it – Jesus returned no answer, the feelings of the Romans became only the more intense. Would He not speak; did He not know that he had absolute power ‘to release or to crucify’ Him? Nay, not absolute power – all power came from above; but the guilt in the abuse of power was far greater on the part of apostate Israel and its leaders, who knew whence power came, and to Whom they were responsible for its exercise.

So spake not an impostor; so spake not an ordinary man – after such sufferings and in such circumstances – to one who, whencesoever derived, had the power of life or death over Him. And Pilate felt it – the more keenly, for his cynicism and, disbelief of all that was higher. And the more earnestly did he now seek to release Him. But proportionately, the louder and fiercer was the cry of the Jews for His Blood, till they threatened to implicate in the charge of rebellion against Caesar the Governor himself, if he persisted in unwonted mercy.

Such danger a Pilate would never encounter. He sat down once more in the judgment-seat, outside the Praetorium, in the place called ‘Pavement,’ and, from its outlook over the City, ‘Gabbatha,’ ‘the rounded height.’ So solemn is the transaction that the Evangelist pauses to note once more the day – nay, the very hour, when the process had commenced. It had been the Friday in Passover-week, and between six and seven of the morning. And at the close Pilate once more in mockery presented to them Jesus: ‘Behold your King!’ Once more they called for His Crucifixion – and, when again challenged, the chief priests burst into the cry, which preceded Pilate’s final sentence, to be presently executed: ‘We have no king but Caesar!’

With this cry Judaism was, in the person of its representatives, guilty of denial of God, of blasphemy, of apostasy. It committed suicide; and, ever since, has its dead body been carried in show from land to land, and from century to century: to be dead, and to remain dead, till He come a second time, Who is the Resurrection and the Life!

(Mat_27:31-43; Mar_15:20-32; Luk_23:26-38; Joh_19:16-24; Mat_27:44; Mar_15:32; Luk_23:39-43; Joh_19:25-27; Mat_27:45-56; Mar_15:33-41; Luk_23:44-49; Joh_19:28-30; Joh_19:31-37; Mat_27:57-61; Mar_15:42-47; Luk_23:50-56; Joh_19:38-42; Mat_27:62-66)

It matters little as regards their guilt, whether, pressing the language of John, we are to understand that Pilate delivered Jesus to the Jews to be crucified, or, as we rather infer, to his own soldiers. This was the common practice, and it accords both with the Governor’s former taunt to the Jews, and with the, after-notice of the Synoptists. They, to whom He was ‘delivered,’ ‘led Him away to be crucified:’ and they who so led Him forth ‘compelled’ the Cyrenian Simon bear the Cross. We can scarcely imagine, that the Jews, still less the Sanhedrists, would have done this. But whether formally or not, the terrible crime of slaying, with wicked hands, their Messiah-King rests, alas, on Israel. Once more was He unrobed and robed. The purple robe was torn from His Wounded Body, the crown of thorns from His Bleeding Brow. Arrayed again in His own, now blood-stained, garments, He was led forth to execution. Only about two hours and a half had passed since the time that He had first stood before Pilate (about half-past six), when the melancholy procession reached Golgotha (at nine o’clock a.m.). In Rome an interval, ordinarily of two days, intervened between a sentence and its execution; but the rule does not seem to have applied to the provinces, if, indeed, in this case the formal rules of Roman procedure were at all observed. The terrible preparations were soon made: the hammer, the nails, the Cross, the very food for the soldiers who were to watch under each Cross. Four soldiers would be detailed for each Cross, the whole being under the command of a centurion. As always, the Cross was borne to the execution by Him Who was to suffer on it – perhaps His Arms bound to it with cords. But there is happily no evidence – rather, every indication! to the contrary – that, according to ancient custom, the neck of the Sufferer was fastened within the patibulum, two horizontal pieces of wood, fastened at the end, to which the hands were bound. Ordinarily, the procession was headed by the centurion, or rather, preceded by one who proclaimed the nature of the crime, and carried a white, wooden board, on which it was written. Commonly, also, it took the longest road to the place of execution, and through the most crowded streets, so as to attract most public attention. But we would suggest, that alike this long circuit and the proclamation of the herald were, in the present instance, dispensed with. They are not hinted at in the text, and seem incongruous to the festive season, and the other circumstances of the history.

Discarding all later legendary embellishments, as only disturbing, we shall try to realise the scene as described in the Gospels. Under the leadership of the centurion, whether or not attended by one who bore the board with the inscription, or only surrounded by the four soldiers, of whom one might carry this tablet, Jesus came forth bearing His Cross. He was followed by two malefactors – ‘robbers’ – probably of the class then so numerous, that covered its crimes by pretensions of political motives. These two, also, would bear each his cross, and probably be attended each by four soldiers. Crucifixion was not a Jewish mode of punishment, although the Maccabee King Jannaeus had so far forgotten the claims of both humanity and religion as on one occasion to crucify not less than 800 persons in Jerusalem itself. But even Herod, with all his cruelty, did not resort to this mode of execution. Nor was it employed by the Romans till after the time of Caesar, when, with the fast increasing cruelty of punishments, it became fearfully common in the provinces. Especially does it seem to characterise the domination of Rome in Judaea under every Governor. During the last siege of Jerusalem hundreds of crosses daily arose, till there seemed not sufficient room nor wood for them, and the soldiery diversified their horrible amusement by new modes of crucifixion. So did the Jewish appeal to Rome for the Crucifixion of Israel’s King come back in hundredfold echoes. But, better than such retribution, the Cross of the God-Man hath put an end to the punishment of the cross, and instead, made the Cross the symbol of humanity, civilisation, progress, peace, and love.

As mostly all abominations of the ancient world, whether in religion or life, crucifixion was of Phoenician origin, although Rome adopted, and improved on it. The modes of execution among the Jews were: strangulation, beheading, burning, and stoning. In all ordinary circumstances the Rabbis were most reluctant to pronounce sentence of death. This appears even from the injunction that the Judges were to fast on the day of such a sentence. Indeed, two of the leading Rabbis record it, that no such sentence would ever have been pronounced in a Sanhedrin of which they had been members. The indignity of hanging – and this only after the criminal had been otherwise executed – was reserved for the crimes of idolatry and blasphemy. The place where criminals were stoned (beṯ haseqilah) was on an elevation about eleven feet high, from whence the criminal was thrown down by the first witness. If he had not died by the fall, the second witness would throw a large stone on his heart as he lay. If not yet lifeless, the whole people would stone him. At a distance of six feet from the place of execution the criminal was undressed, only the covering absolutely necessary for decency being left.  In the case of Jesus we have reason to think that, while the mode of punishment to which He was subjected was un-Jewish, every concession would be made to Jewish custom, and hence we thankfully believe that on the Cross He was spared the indignity of exposure. Such would have been truly un-Jewish.

Three kinds of Cross were in use: the so-called Andrew’s Cross (x, the Crux decussata), the Cross in the form of a T (Crux Commissa), and the ordinary Latin Cross (+, Crux immissa). We believe that Jesus bore the last of these. This would also most readily admit of affixing the board with the threefold inscription, which we know His Cross bore. Besides, the universal testimony of those who lived nearest the time (Justin Martyr, Irenaeus, and others), and who, alas! had only too much occasion to learn what crucifixion meant, is in favour of this view. This Cross, as John expressly states, Jesus Himself bore at the outset. And so the procession moved on towards Golgotha. Not only the location, but even the name of that which appeals so strongly to every Christian heart, is matter of controversy. The name cannot have been derived from the skulls which lay about, since such exposure would have been unlawful, and hence must have been due to the skull-like shape and appearance of the place. Accordingly, the name is commonly explained as the Greek form of the Aramaean gulgalta, or the Hebrew gulgoleṯ, which means a skull.

Such a description would fully correspond, not only to the requirements of the narrative, but to the appearance of the place which, so far as we can judge, represents Golgotha. We cannot here explain the various reasons for which the traditional site must be abandoned. Certain it is that Golgotha was ‘outside the gate,’ and ‘near the City.’ In all likelihood it was the usual place of execution. Lastly, we know that it was situated near gardens, where there were tombs, and close to the highway. The three last conditions point to the north of Jerusalem. It must be remembered that the third wall, which afterwards surrounded Jerusalem, was not built till several years after the Crucifixion. The new suburb of Bezetha, extended at that time, outside the second wall. Here the great highway passed northwards; close by, were villas and gardens; and here also rockhewn sepulchres have been discovered, which date from that period. But this is not all. The present Damascus Gate in the north of the city seems, in most ancient tradition, to have borne the name of Stephen’s Gate, because the Proto-Martyr was believed to have passed through it to his stoning. Close by, then, must have been the place of execution. And at least one Jewish tradition fixes upon this very spot, close by what is known as the Grotto of Jeremiah, as the ancient ‘place of stoning’ (beṯ haseqilah). And the description of the locality answers all requirements. It is a weird, dreary place, two or, three minutes aside from the high road, with a high, rounded, skull-like rocky plateau, and a sudden depression or hollow beneath, as if the jaws of the skull had opened. Whether or not the tomb of the Herodian period in the rocky knoll to the west of ‘Jeremiah’s Grotto’ was the most sacred spot upon earth – the ‘Sepulchre, in the Garden,’ we dare not positively assert, though every probability attaches to it.

Thither, then, did that melancholy procession wind, between eight and nine o’clock on that Friday in Passover week. From the ancient Palace of Herod it descended, and probably passed through the gate in the first wall, and so into the busy quarter of Acra. As it proceeded, the numbers who followed from the Temple, from the dense business-quarter through which it moved, increased. Shops, bazaars, and markets were, indeed, closed on the holy feast-day. But quite a crowd of people would come out to line the streets and to follow; and, especially, women, leaving their festive preparations, raised loud laments, not in spiritual recognition of Christ’s claims, but in pity and sympathy.  And who could have looked unmoved on such a spectacle, unless fanatical hatred had burnt out of his bosom all that was human? Since the Paschal Supper Jesus had not tasted either food or drink. After the deep emotion of that Feast, with all of holiest institution which it included; after the anticipated betrayal of Judas, and after the farewell to His disciples, He had passed into Gethsemane. There for hours, alone – since His nearest disciples could not watch with Him even one hour – the deep waters had rolled up to His soul. He had drunk of them, immersed, almost perished in them. There had he agonised in mortal conflict, till the great drops of blood forced themselves on His Brow. There had He been delivered up, while they all had fled. To Annas, to Caiaphas, to Pilate, to Herod, and again to Pilate; from indignity to indignity, from torture to torture, had He been hurried all that livelong night, all that morning. All throughout He had borne Himself with a Divine Majesty, which had awakened alike the deeper feelings of Pilate and the infuriated hatred of the Jews. But if His Divinity gave its true meaning to His Humanity, that Humanity gave its true meaning to His voluntary Sacrifice. So far, then, from seeking to hide its manifestations, the Evangelists, not indeed needlessly but unhesitatingly, put them forward. Unrefreshed by food or sleep, after the terrible events of that night and morning, while His pallid Face bore the blood-marks from the crown of thorns, His mangled Body was unable to bear the weight of the Cross. No wonder the pity of the women of Jerusalem was stirred. But ours is not pity, it is worship at the sight. For, underlying His Human Weakness was the Divine Strength which led Him to this voluntary self-surrender and self-exinanition. It was the Divine strength of His pity and love which issued in His Human weakness.

Up to that last Gate which led from the ‘Suburb’ towards the place of execution did Jesus bear His Cross. Then, as we infer, His strength gave way under it. A man was coming from the opposite direction, one from that large colony of Jews which, as we know, had settled in Cyrene. He would be specially noticed; for, few would at that hour, on the festive day, come ‘out of the country,’ although such was not contrary to the Law. So much has been made of this, that it ought to be distinctly known that travelling, which was forbidden on Sabbaths, was not prohibited on feast-days. Besides, the place whence he came-perhaps his home – might have been within the ecclesiastical boundary of Jerusalem. At any rate, he seems to have been well known, at least afterwards, in the Church – and his sons Alexander and Rufus even better than he. Thus much only can we say with certainty; to identify them with persons of the same name mentioned in other parts of the New Testament can only be matter of speculation. But we can scarcely repress the thought that Simon the Cyrenian had not before that day been a disciple; had only learned to follow Christ, when, on that day, as he came, in by the Gate, the soldiery laid hold on him, and against his will forced him to bear the Cross after Christ. Yet another indication of the need of such help comes to us from Mark, who uses an, expression which conveys, though not necessarily that the Saviour had to be borne, yet that He had to be supported to Golgotha from the place where they met Simon.

Here, where, if the Saviour did not, actually sink under His burden, it yet required to be transferred to the Cyrenian while Himself henceforth needed bodily support, we place the next incident in this history. While the Cross was laid on the unwilling Simon, the women who had followed with the populace closed around the Sufferer, raising their lamentations. At His Entrance into Jerusalem, Jesus had wept over the daughters of Jerusalem; as He left it for the last time, they wept over Him. But far different were the reasons for His tears from theirs of mere pity. And, if proof were required of His Divine strength, even in the utmost depth of His Human weakness – how, conquered, He was Conqueror – it would surely be found in the words in which He bade them turn their thoughts of pity where pity would be called for, even to themselves and their children in the near judgment upon Jerusalem. The time would come, when the Old Testament curse of barrenness would be coveted as a blessing. To show the fulfilment of this prophetic lament of Jesus, it is not necessary to recall the harrowing details recorded by Josephus, when a frenzied mother roasted her own child, and in the mockery of desperateness reserved the half of the horrible meal for those murderers who daily broke in upon her to rob her of what scanty food had been left her; nor yet other of those incidents, too revolting for needless repetition, which the historian of the last siege of Jerusalem chronicles. But how often, these many centuries, must Israel’s women have felt that terrible longing for childlessness, and how often must the prayer of despair for the quick death of falling mountains and burying hills rather than prolonged torture have risen: to the lips of Israel’s sufferers! And yet, even so, these words were also prophetic of a still more terrible future! For, if Israel had, put such flame to its ‘green tree’ how terribly would the Divine judgment burn among the dry wood of an apostate and rebellious people, that had so delivered up its Divine King, and pronounced sentence upon itself by pronouncing it upon Him!

And yet natural, and, in some respects, genuine, as were the tears of ‘the daughters of Jerusalem,’ mere sympathy with Christ almost involves guilt, since it implies a view of Him which is essentially the opposite of that which His claims demand. These tears were the emblem of that modern sentiment about the Christ which, in its effusiveness, offers insult rather than homage, and implies rejection rather than acknowledgment of Him. We shrink with horror from the assumption of a higher standpoint, implied in so much of the modern so-called criticism about the Christ. But even beyond this, all mere sentimentalism is here the outcome of unconsciousness of our real condition. When a sense of sin has been awakened in us, we shall mourn, not for what Christ has suffered, but for what He suffered for us. The effusiveness of mere sentiment is impertinence or folly: impertinence, if He was the Son of God; folly, if He was merely Man. And, even from quite another point of view, there is here a lesson to learn. It is the peculiarity of Romanism ever to present the Christ in His Human weakness. It is that of an extreme section on the opposite side, to view Him only in His Divinity. Be it ours ever to keep before us, and to worship as we remember it, that the Christ is the Saviour God-Man.

It was nine of the clock when the melancholy procession reached Golgotha, and the yet more melancholy preparations for the Crucifixion commenced. Avowedly, the punishment was invented to make death as painful and as lingering as the power of human endurance. First the upright wood was planted in the ground. It was not high, and probably the feet of the Sufferer were not above one or two feet from the ground. Thus could the communication described in the Gospels take place between Him and others; thus, also, might His Sacred Lips be moistened with the sponge attached to a short stalk of hyssop. Next, the transverse wood (antenna) was placed on the ground, and the Sufferer laid on it, when His Arms were extended, drawn up, and bound to it. Then (this not in Egypt, but in Carthage and in Rome) a strong, sharp nail was driven, first into the Right, then into the Left Hand (the clavi trabales). Next, the Sufferer was drawn up by means of ropes, perhaps ladders; the transverse either bound or nailed to the upright, and a rest or support for the Body (the cornu or sedile) fastened on it. Lastly, the Feet were extended, and either one nail hammered into each, or a larger piece of iron through the two. We have already expressed our belief that the indignity of exposure was not offered at such a Jewish execution. And so might the crucified hang for hours, even days, in the unutterable anguish of suffering, till consciousness at last failed.

It was a merciful Jewish practice to give to those led to execution a draught of strong wine mixed with myrrh so as to deaden consciousness. This charitable office was performed at the cost of, if not by, an association of women in Jerusalem. That draught was offered to Jesus when He reached Golgotha. But having tasted it, and ascertained its character and object, He would not drink it. It was like His former refusal of the pity of the ‘daughters of Jerusalem.’ No man could take His Life from Him; He had power to lay it down, and to take it up again. Nor would He here yield to the ordinary weakness of our human nature; nor suffer and die as if it had been a necessity, not a voluntary self-surrender. He would meet Death, even in his sternest and fiercest mood, and conquer by submitting to the full. A lesson this also, though one difficult, to the Christian sufferer.

And so was He nailed to His Cross, which was placed between, probably somewhat higher than, those of the two malefactors crucified with Him. One thing only still remained: to affix to His Cross the so-called ‘title’ (titulus), on which was inscribed the charge on which He had been condemned. As already stated, it was customary to carry this board before the prisoner, and there is no reason for supposing any exception in this respect. Indeed, it seems implied in the circumstance, that the ‘title’ had evidently been drawn up under the direction of Pilate. It was – as might have been expected, and yet most significantly – trilingual: in Latin, Greek, and Aramaean. We imagine, that it was written in that order, and that the words were those recorded by the Evangelists (excepting Luke, who seems to give a modification of the original, or Aramaean, text). The inscription given by Matthew exactly corresponds with that which Eusebius records as the Latin titulus on the cross of one of the early martyrs. We therefore conclude, that it represents the Latin words. Again, it seems only natural, that the fullest, and to the Jews most offensive, description should have been in Aramaean, which all could read. Very significantly this is given by John. It follows, that the inscription given by Mark must represent that in Greek. Although much less comprehensive, it had the same number of words, and precisely the same number of letters, as that in Aramaean, given by John.

It seems probable, that the Sanhedrists had heard from some one, who had watched the procession on its way to Golgotha, of the inscription which Pilate had written on the ‘titulus’ – partly to avenge himself on, and partly to deride, the Jews. It is not likely that they would have asked Pilate to take it down after it had been affixed to the Cross; and it seems scarcely credible, that they would have waited outside the Praetorium till the melancholy procession commenced its march. We suppose that, after the condemnation of Jesus, the Sanhedrists had gone from the Praetorium into the Temple, to take part in its services. When informed of the offensive tablet, they hastened once more to the Praetorium, to induce Pilate not to allow it to be put up. This explains the inversion in the order of the account in the Gospel of John, or rather, its location in that narrative in immediate connection with the notice that the Sanhedrists were afraid the Jews who passed by might be influenced by the inscription. We imagine, that the Sanhedrists had originally no intention of doing anything so un-Jewish as not only to gaze at the sufferings of the Crucified, but to even deride Him in His Agony – that, in fact, they had not intended going to Golgotha at all. But when they found that Pilate would not yield to their remonstrances, some of them hastened to the place of Crucifixion, and, mingling with the crowd, sought to incite their jeers, so as to prevent any deeper impression which the significant words of the inscription might have produced.

Before nailing Him to the Cross, the soldiers parted among them the poor worldly inheritance of His raiment. On this point there are slight seeming differences between the notices of the Synoptists and the more detailed account of the Fourth Gospel. Such differences, if real, would afford only fresh evidence of the general trustworthiness of the narrative. For, we bear in mind that, of all the disciples, only John witnessed the last scenes, and that therefore the other accounts of it circulating in the early Church must have been derived, so to speak, from second sources. This explains, why perhaps the largest number of seeming discrepancies in the Gospels occurs in the narrative of the closing hours in the Life of Christ, and how, contrary to what otherwise we might have expected, the most detailed as well as precise account of them comes to us from John. In the present instance these slight seeming differences may be explained in the following manner. There was, as John states, first a division into four parts – one to each of the soldiers – of such garments of the Lord as were of nearly the same value. The head-gear, the outer cloak-like garment, the girdle, and the sandals, would differ little in cost. But the question, which of them was to belong to each of the soldiers, would naturally be decided, as the Synoptists inform us, by lot.

But, besides these four articles of dress, there was the, seamless woven inner garment, by far the most valuable of all, and for which as it could not be partitioned without being destroyed, they would specially cast lots (as John reports). Nothing in this world can be accidental, since God is not far from any of us. But in the History of the Christ the Divine purpose, which forms the subject of all prophecy, must have been constantly realised; nay, this must have forced itself on the mind of the observer, and the more irresistibly when, as in the present instance, the outward circumstances were in such sharp contrast to the higher reality. To John, the loving and loved disciple, greater contrast could scarcely exist than between this rough partition by lot among the soldiery, and the character and claims of Him Whose garments they were thus apportioning, as if He had been a helpless Victim in their hands. Only one explanation could here suggest itself; that there was a special Divine meaning in the permission of such an event – that it was in fulfilment of ancient prophecy. As he gazed on the terrible scene, the: words of the Psalm  which portrayed the desertion, the sufferings, and the contempt even unto death of the Servant of the Lord, stood out in the red light of the Sun setting in Blood. They flashed upon his mind – for the first time he understood them; and the flames which played around the Sufferer were seen to be the sacrificial fire that consumed the Sacrifice which He offered. That this quotation is made: in the Fourth Gospel alone, proves that its writer was an eyewitness; that it was made in the Fourth Gospel at all, that he was a Jew, deeply imbued with Jewish modes of religious thinking. And the evidence of both is the stronger, as we recall the comparative rareness, and the peculiarly Judaic character of the Old Testament quotations in the Fourth Gospel.

It was when they thus nailed Him to the Cross, and parted His raiment, that He spake the first of the so-called ‘Seven Words’: ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.’ Even the reference in this prayer to ‘what they do’ (not in the past, nor future) points to the soldiers as the primary, though certainly not the sole object of the Saviour’s prayer.  But higher thoughts also come to us. In the moment of the deepest abasement of Christ’s Human Nature, the Divine bursts forth most brightly. It is, as if the: Saviour would discard all that is merely human in His Sufferings, just as before He had discarded the Cup of stupefying wine. These soldiers were but the unconscious instruments: the form was nothing; the contest was between the Kingdom of God and that of darkness between the Christ and Satan, and these sufferings were but the necessary path of obedience, and to victory and glory. When He is most human (in the moment of His being nailed to the Cross), then is He most Divine, in the utter discarding of the human elements of human instrumentality and of human suffering. Then also in the utter self-forgetfulness of the God-Man – which is one of the aspects of the Incarnation – does He only remember Divine mercy, and pray for them who crucify Him; and thus also does the Conquered truly conquer His conquerors by asking for them what their deed had forfeited. And lastly, in this, that alike the first and the last of His Utterances begin with ‘Father,’ does He show by the unbrokenness of His faith and fellowship the real spiritual victory which He has won. And He has won it, not only for the martyrs, who have learned from Him to pray as He did, but for everyone who, in the midst of all that seems most opposed to it, can rise, beyond mere forgetfulness of what is around, to realising faith and fellowship with God as ‘the Father,’ – who through the dark curtain of cloud can discern the bright sky, and can feel the unshaken confidence, if not the unbroken joy, of absolute trust.

This was His first Utterance on the Cross – as regarded them; as regarded Himself; and as regarded God. So, surely, suffered not Man. Has this prayer of Christ been answered? We dare; not doubt it; nay, we perceive it in some measure in those drops of blessing which have fallen upon heathen men, and have left to Israel also, even in its ignorance, a remnant according to the election of grace.

And now began the real agonies of the Cross – physical, mental, and spiritual. It was the weary, unrelieved waiting, as thickening darkness gradually gathered around. Before sitting down to their, melancholy watch over the Crucified, the soldiers would refresh themselves, after their exertion in nailing Jesus to the Cross, lifting it up, and fixing it, by draughts of the cheap wine of the country. As they quaffed it, they drank to Him in their coarse brutality, and mockingly came to Him, asking Him to pledge, them in response. Their jests were, indeed, chiefly directed not against Jesus personally, but in His Representative capacity, and so against the hated, despised Jews, whose King they now derisively challenged to save Himself. Yet even so, it seems to us of deepest significance, that He was so treated and derided in His Representative Capacity and as the King of the Jews. It is the undesigned testimony of history, alike as regarded the character of Jesus and the future of Israel. But what from almost any point of view we find so difficult to understand is, the unutterable abasement of the Leaders of Israel – their moral suicide as regarded Israel’s hope and spiritual existence. There, on that Cross, hung He, Who at least embodied that grand hope of the nation; Who even on their own showing, suffered to the extreme for that idea, and yet renounced it not, but clung fast to it in unshaken confidence; One, to Whose Life or even Teaching no objection could be offered, save that of this grand idea. And yet, when it came to them in the ribald mockery of this heathen soldiery it evoked no other or higher thoughts in them; and they had the indescribable baseness of joining in the jeer at Israel’s great hope, and of leading the popular chorus in it!

For, we cannot doubt, that – perhaps also by way of turning aside the point of the jeer from Israel – they took it up, and tried to direct it against Jesus; and that they led the ignorant mob in the piteous attempts at derision. And did none of those who so reviled Him in all the chief aspects of His Work feel, that, as Judas had sold the Master for nought and committed suicide, so they were doing in regard to their Messianic hope? For, their jeers cast contempt on the four great facts in the Life and Work of Jesus, which were also the underlying ideas of the Messianic Kingdom: the new relationship to Israel’s religion and the Temple (‘Thou that destroyest the Temple, and buildest it in three days’); the new relationship to the Father through the Messiah, the Son of God (‘if Thou be the Son of God’); the new all-sufficient help brought to body and soul in salvation (‘He saved others’); and, finally the new relationship to Israel in the fulfilment and perfecting of its Mission through its King (‘if He be the King of Israel’). On all this, the taunting challenge of the Sanhedrists, to come down from the Cross, and save Himself, if He would claim the allegiance of their faith, cast what Matthew and Mark characterise as the ‘blaspheming’ of doubt. We compare with theirs the account of Luke and of John. That of Luke reads like the report of what had passed, given by one who throughout had been quite close by, perhaps taken part in the crucifixion – one might almost venture to suggest, that it had been furnished by the Centurion. The narrative of John reads markedly like that of an eyewitness, and he a Judaean. And as we compare both the general Judaean cast and Old Testament quotations in this with the other parts of the Fourth Gospel, we feel as if (as so often) under the influence of the strongest emotions, the later development and peculiar thinking of so many years afterwards had for the time been effaced, from the mind of John, or rather given place to the Jewish modes of conception and speech, familiar to him in earlier days. Lastly, the account of Matthew seems as if written from the priestly point of view, as if it had been furnished by one of the Priests or Sanhedrist-party, present at the time.

Yet other inferences come to us. First, there is a remarkable relationship between what Luke quotes as spoken by the soldiers: ‘If Thou art the King of the Jews, save Thyself,’ and the report of the words in Matthew: ‘He saved others – Himself He cannot save. He is the King of Israel! Let Him now come down from the Cross, and we will believe on Him!’ These are the words of the Sanhedrists, and they seem to respond to those of the soldiers, as reported by Luke, and to carry them further. The ‘if’ of the soldiers: ‘If Thou art the King of the Jews,’ now becomes a direct blasphemous challenge. As we think of it, they seem to re-echo, and now with the laughter of hellish triumph, the former Jewish challenge for an outward, infallible sign to demonstrate His Messiahship. But they also take up, and re-echo, what Satan had set before Jesus in the Temptation of the wilderness. At the beginning of His Work, the Tempter had suggested that the Christ should achieve absolute victory by an act of presumptuous self-assertion, utterly opposed to the spirit of the Christ, but which Satan represented as an act of trust in God, such as He would assuredly own. And now, at the close of His Messianic Work, the Tempter suggested, in the challenge of the Sanhedrists, that Jesus had suffered absolute defeat, and that God had, publicly disowned, the trust which the Christ had put in Him. ‘He trusteth in God: let Him deliver Him now, if He will have Him.’ Here, as in the Temptation of the Wilderness, the words misapplied were those of Scripture – in the present instance those of Psa_22:8. And the quotation, as made by the Sanhedrists, is the more remarkable, that, contrary to what is generally asserted by writers, this Psalm was Messianically applied by the ancient Synagogue. More especially was this verse,  which precedes the mocking quotation of the Sanhedrists, expressly applied to the sufferings, and the derision which Messiah was to undergo from His enemies: ‘All they that see Me laugh Me to scorn: they shoot out the lip, they shake the head.’ 

The derision of the Sanhedrists under the Cross was, as previously stated, not entirely spontaneous, but had a special motive. The place of Crucifixion was close to the great road which led from the North to Jerusalem. On that Feast-day, when, as there was no law to limit, as on the weekly day of rest, locomotion to a ‘Sabbath day’s journey,’ many would pass in and out of the City, and the crowd would naturally be arrested by the spectacle of the three Crosses. Equally naturally would they have been impressed by the titulus over the Cross of Christ. The words, describing the Sufferer as ‘the King of the Jews,’ might, when taken in connection with what was known of Jesus, have raised most dangerous questions. And this the presence of the Sanhedrists was intended to prevent, by turning the popular mind in a totally different direction. It was just such a taunt and argumentation as would appeal to that coarse realism, of the common people, which is too often misnamed ‘common sense.’ Luke significantly ascribes the derision of Jesus only to the Rulers, and we repeat, that that of the passers by, recorded by Matthew and Mark, was excited by them. Thus here also the main guilt rested on the leaders of the people.

One other trait comes to us from Luke, confirming our impression that his account was derived from one who had stood quite close to the Cross, probably taken official part in the Crucifixion, Matthew and Mark merely remark in general, that the derision of the Sanhedrists and people was joined in by the thieves on the Cross. A trait this, which we feel to be not only psychologically true, but the more likely of occurrence, that any sympathy or possible alleviation of their sufferings might best be secured by joining in the scorn of the leaders, and concentrating popular indignation upon Jesus. But Luke also records a vital difference between the two ‘robbers’ on the Cross. The impenitent thief takes up the jeer of the Sanhedrists: ‘Art Thou not the Christ? Save Thyself and us!’ The words are the more significant, alike in their bearing on the majestic calm and pitying love of the Saviour on the Cross, and on the utterance of the ‘penitent thief,’ that – strange as it may sound – it seems to have been a terrible phenomenon, noted, by historians, that those on the cross were wont to utter insults and imprecations on the onlookers, goaded nature perhaps seeking relief in such outbursts. Not so when the heart was touched in true repentance.

If a more close study of the words of the ‘penitent thief’ may seem to diminish the fulness of meaning which the traditional view attaches to them, they gain all the more as we perceive their historic reality. His first words were of reproof to his comrade. In that terrible hour, amidst the tortures of a slow death, did not the fear of God creep over him – at least so far as to prevent his joining in the vile jeers of those who insulted the dying agonies of the Sufferer? And this all the more, in the peculiar circumstances. They were all three sufferers; but they two justly, while He Whom he insulted had done nothing amiss. From this basis of fact, the penitent rapidly rose to the height of faith. This is not uncommon, when a mind is learning the lessons of truth in the school of grace. Only, it stands out here the more sharply, because of the dark background against which it is traced in such broad and brightly shining outlines. The hour of the deepest abasement of the Christ was, as all the moments of His greatest Humiliation, to be marked by a manifestation of His Glory and Divine Character – as it were, by God’s testimony to Him in history, if not by the Voice of God from heaven. And, as regarded the ‘penitent’ himself, we notice the progression in his soul. No one could have been ignorant – least of all those who were led forth with Him to crucifixion, that Jesus did not suffer for any crime, nor for any political movement, but because He professed to embody the great hope of Israel, and was rejected by its leaders. And if any had been ignorant, the ‘title’ over the Cross and the bitter enmity of the Sanhedrists, which followed Him with jeers and jibes, where even ordinary humanity, and still more Jewish feeling, would have enjoined silence, if not pity, must have shown what had been the motives of ‘the condemnation’ of Jesus. But, once the mind was opened to perceive all these facts, the progress would be rapid. In hours of extremity a man may deceive himself and fatally mistake fear for the fear of God, and the remembrance of certain external knowledge for spiritual experience. But, if a man really learns in such seasons, the teaching of years may be compressed into moments, and the dying thief on the Cross might outdistance the knowledge gained by Apostles in their years of following Christ.

One thing stood out before the mind of the ‘penitent thief,’ who in that hour did fear God. Jesus had done nothing amiss. And this surrounded with a halo of moral glory the inscription on the Cross, long before its words acquired a new meaning. But how did this Innocent One bear Himself in suffering? Right royally – not in an earthly sense, but in that in which alone He claimed the Kingdom. He had so spoken to the women who had lamented Him, as His faint form could no longer bear the burden of the Cross; and He had so refused the draught that would have deadened consciousness and sensibility. Then, as they three were stretched on the transverse beam, and, in the first and sharpest agony of pain, the nails were driven with cruel stroke of hammer through the quivering flesh, and, in the nameless agony that followed the first moments of the Crucifixion, only a prayer for those who in ignorance, were the instruments of His torture, had passed His lips. And yet He was innocent, Who so cruelly suffered. All that followed must have only deepened the impression. With what calm of endurance and majesty of silence He had borne the insult and jeers of those who, even to the spiritually unenlightened eye, must have seemed so infinitely far beneath Him! This man did feel the ‘fear’ of God, who now learned the new lesson in which the fear of God was truly the beginning of wisdom. And, once he gave place to the moral element, when under the fear of God he reproved his comrade, this new moral decision became to him, as so often, the beginning of spiritual life. Rapidly he now passed into the light, and onwards and upwards: ‘Lord remember me, when Thou comest in Thy Kingdom.’

The familiar words of our Authorised Version: ‘When Thou comest into Thy Kingdom’ – convey the idea of what we might call a more spiritual meaning of the petition. But we can scarcely believe, that at that moment it implied either that Christ was then going into His Kingdom, or that the ‘penitent thief’ looked to Christ for admission into the Heavenly Kingdom. The words are true to the Jewish point of vision of the man. He recognised and owned Jesus as the Messiah, and he did so, by a wonderful forthgoing of faith, even in the utmost Humiliation of Christ. And this immediately passed beyond the Jewish standpoint, for he expected Jesus soon to come back in His Kingly might and power, when he asked to be remembered by Him in mercy. And here we have again to bear in mind that, during the Life of Christ upon earth, and, indeed, before the outpouring of the Holy Ghost, men always first learned to believe in the Person of the Christ, and then to know His teaching and His Mission in the forgiveness of sins. It was so in this case also. If the ‘penitent thief’ had learned to know the Christ, and to ask for gracious recognition in His coming Kingdom, the answering assurance of the Lord conveyed not only the comfort that his prayer was answered, but the teaching of spiritual things which he knew not yet, and so much needed to know. The ‘penitent’ had spoken of the future, Christ spoke of ‘to-day;’ the penitent had prayed about that Messianic Kingdom which was to come, Christ assured him in regard to the state of the disembodied spirits, and conveyed to him the promise that he would be there in the abode of the blessed – ‘Paradise’ – and that through means of Himself as the Messiah: ‘Amen, I say unto thee – To-day with Me shalt thou be in the Paradise.’ Thus did Christ give him that spiritual knowledge which he did not yet possess – the teaching concerning the ‘to-day,’ the need of gracious admission into Paradise and that with and through Himself – in other words, concerning the forgiveness of sins and the opening of the Kingdom of Heaven to all believers. This, as the first and foundation-creed of the soul, was the first and foundation-fact concerning the Messiah.

This was the Second Utterance from the Cross. The first had been of utter self-forgetfulness; the second of deepest, wisest, most gracious spiritual teaching. And, had He spoken none other than these, He would have been proved to be the Son of God.

Nothing more would require to be said to the ‘penitent’ on the Cross. The events which followed, and the words which Jesus would still speak, would teach him more fully than could otherwise have been done. Some hours – probably two – had passed since Jesus had been nailed to the Cross. We wonder how it came that John, who tells us some of the incidents with such exceeding particularity, and relates all with the vivid realisation of a most deeply interested eyewitness, should have been silent as to others – especially as to those hours of derision, as well as to the conversion of the penitent thief. His silence seems to us to have been due to absence from the scene. We part company with him after his detailed account of the last scene before Pilate. The final sentence pronounced, we suppose him to have hurried into the City, and to have acquainted such of the disciples as he might find – but especially those faithful women and the Virgin-Mother – with the terrible scenes that had passed since the previous evening. Thence he returned to Golgotha, just in time to witness the Crucifixion, which he again describes with peculiar fulness of details. When the Saviour was nailed to the Cross, John seems once more to have returned to the City – this time, to bring back with him those women, in company of whom we now find him standing close to the Cross. A more delicate, tender, loving service could not have been rendered than this. Alone, of all the disciples, he is there – not afraid to be near Christ, in the Palace of the High-Priest, before Pilate, and now under the Cross. And alone he renders to Christ this tender service of bringing the women and Mary to the Cross, and to them the protection of his guidance and company. He loved Jesus best; and it was fitting that to his manliness and affection should be entrusted the unspeakable privilege of Christ’s dangerous inheritance.

The narrative leaves the impression that with the beloved disciple these four women were standing close to the Cross: the Mother of Jesus, the Sister of His Mother, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary of Magdala. A comparison with what is related by Matthew and Mark supplies further important particulars. We read there of only three women, the name of the Mother of our Lord being omitted. But then it must be remembered that this refers to a later period in the history of the Crucifixion. It seems as if John had fulfilled to the letter the Lord’s command: ‘Behold thy mother,’ and literally ‘from that very hour’ taken her to his own home. If we are right in this supposition, then, in the absence of John – who led away the Virgin-Mother from that scene of horror – the other three women would withdraw to a distance, where we find them at the end, not ‘by the Cross,’ as in Joh_19:25, but ‘beholding from afar’ and now joined by others also, who had loved and followed Christ.

We further notice that, the name of the Virgin-Mother being omitted, the other three are the same as mentioned by John; only, Mary of Clopas is now described as ‘the mother of James and Joses,’ and Christ’s ‘Mother’s Sister’ as ‘Salome’ and ‘the mother of Zebedee’s children.’ Thus Salome, the wife of Zebedee and John’s mother, was the sister of the Virgin, and the beloved disciple the cousin (on the mother’s side) of Jesus, and the nephew of the Virgin. This also helps to explain why the care of the Mother had been entrusted to him. Nor was Mary the wife of Clopas unconnected with Jesus. What we have every reason to regard as a trust-worthy account describes Clopas as the brother of Joseph, the husband of the Virgin. Thus, not only Salome as the sister of the Virgin, but Mary also as the wife of Clopas, would, in a certain sense, have been His aunt, and her sons His cousins. And so we notice among the twelve Apostles five cousins of the Lord: the two sons of Salome and Zebedee, and the three sons of Alphaeus or Clopas and Mary: James, Judas surnamed Lebbaeus and Thaddaeus, and Simon surnamed Zelotes or Cananaean.

We can now in some measure realise events. When John had seen the Saviour nailed to the Cross, he had gone to the City and brought with him for a last mournful farewell the Virgin, accompanied by those who, as most nearly connected with her, would naturally be with her: her own sister Salome, the sister-in-law of Joseph and wife (or more probably widow) of Clopas, and her who of all others had experienced most of His blessed power to save – Mary of Magdala. Once more we reverently mark His Divine calm of utter self-forgetfulness and His human thoughtfulness for others. As they stood under the Cross, He committed His Mother to the disciple whom He loved, and established a new human relationship between him and her who was nearest to Himself. And calmly, earnestly, and immediately did that disciple undertake the sacred charge, and bring her – whose soul the sword had pierced – away from the scene of unutterable woe to the shelter of his home. And this temporary absence of John from the Cross may account for the want of all detail in his narrative till quite the closing scene.

Now at last all that concerned the earthward aspect of His Mission – so far as it had to be done on the Cross – was ended. He had prayed for those who had nailed Him to it, in ignorance of what they did; He had given the comfort of assurance to the penitent, who had owned His Glory in His Humiliation; and He had made the last provision of love in regard to those nearest to Him. So to speak, the relations of His Humanity – that which touched His Human Nature in any direction – had been fully met. He had done with the Human aspect of His Work and with earth. And, appropriately, Nature seemed now to take sad farewell of Him, and mourned its departing Lord, Who, by His Personal connection with it, had once more lifted it from the abasement of the Fall into the region of the Divine, making it the dwelling-place, the vehicle for the manifestation, and the obedient messenger of the Divine.

For three hours had the Saviour hung on the Cross. It was midday. And now the Sun was craped in darkness from the sixth to the ninth hour. No purpose can be served by attempting to trace the source of this darkness. It could not have been an eclipse, since it was the time of full moon; nor can we place reliance on the later reports on this subject of ecclesiastical writers. It seems only in accordance with the Evangelic narrative to regard the occurrence of the event as supernatural, while the event itself might have been brought about by natural causes; and among these we must call special attention to the earthquake in which this darkness terminated. For, it is a well-known phenomenon that such darkness not unfrequently precedes earthquakes. On the other hand, it must be freely admitted, that the language of the Evangelists seems to imply that this darkness extended, not only over the land of Israel, but over the inhabited earth. The expression must, of course, not be pressed to its full literality, but explained as meaning that it extended far beyond Judaea and to other lands. No reasonable objection can be raised from the circumstance, that neither the earthquake nor the preceding darkness are mentioned by any profane writer whose works have been preserved, since it would surely not be maintained that an historical record must have been preserved of every earthquake that occurred, and of every darkness that may have preceded it. But the most unfair argument is that, which tries to establish the unhistorical character of this narrative by an appeal to what are described as Jewish sayings expressive of similar expectancy. It is quite true that in old Testament prophecy – whether figuratively or really – the darkening, though not only of the sun, but also of the man and stars, is sometimes connected, not with the Coming of Messiah, still less with His Death, but with the final Judgment. But Jewish tradition never speaks of such an event in connection with Messiah, or even with the Messianic judgments, and the quotations from Rabbinic writings made by negative critics must be characterised as not only inapplicable but even unfair.

But to return from this painful digression. The three hours’ darkness was such not only to Nature; Jesus, also, entered into darkness: Body, Soul, and Spirit. It was now, not as before, a contest – but suffering. Into this, to us, fathomless depth of the mystery of His Sufferings, we dare not, as indeed we cannot, enter. It was of the Body; yet not of the Body only, but of physical life. And it was of the Soul and Spirit; yet not of them alone, but in their conscious relation to man and to God. And it was not of the Human only in Christ, but in its indissoluble connection with the Divine: of the Human, where it reached the utmost verge of humiliation to body, soul, and spirit – and in it of the Divine, to utmost self-exinanition. The increasing, nameless agonies of the Crucifixion were deepening into the bitterness of death. All nature shrinks from death, and there is a physical horror of the separation between body and soul which, as a purely natural phenomenon, is in every instance only overcome, and that only by a higher principle. And we conceive that the purer the being the greater the violence of the tearing asunder of the bond with which God Almighty originally bound together body and soul. In the Perfect Man this must have reached the highest degree. So, also, had in those dark hours the sense of man-forsakenness and of His own isolation from man; so, also, had the intense silence of God, the withdrawal of God, the sense of His God-forsakenness and absolute loneliness. We dare not here speak of punitive suffering, but of forsakenness and loneliness. And yet as we ask ourselves how this forsakenness can be thought of as so complete in view of His Divine consciousness, which at least could not have been wholly extinguished by His Self-exinanition, we feel that yet another element must be taken into account. Christ on the Cross suffered for man; He offered Himself a sacrifice; He died for our sins that, as death was the wages of sin, so He died as the Representative of man – for man and in room of man; He obtained for man ‘eternal redemption,’ having given His Life ‘a ransom, for many.’ For, men were ‘redeemed’ with the ‘precious Blood of Christ, as of a Lamb without blemish and without spot;’ and Christ ‘gave Himself for us, that He might “redeem” us from all iniquity;’ He ‘gave Himself “a ransom” for all;’ ‘Christ died for all;’ Him, Who knew no sin, God ‘made sin for us;’ ‘Christ redeemed us from the curse of the Law, having become a curse for us’ – and this, with express reference to the Crucifixion. This sacrificial, vicarious, expiatory, and redemptive character of His Death, if it does not explain to us, yet helps us to understand, Christ’s sense of God-forsakenness in the supreme moment of the Cross; if one might so word, it – the passive character of His activeness through the active character of His passiveness.

It was this combination of the Old Testament idea of sacrifice, and of the Old Testament ideal of willing suffering as the Servant of Jehovah, now fulfilled in Christ, which found its fullest expression in the language of the twenty-second Psalm. It was fitting – rather, it was true – that the willing suffering of the true Sacrifice should now find vent in its opening words: ‘My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?’ – Elı̂ Elı̂ lema sabaḥṯanei?’ These words, cried with a loud voice at the close of the period of extreme agony, marked the climax and the end of this suffering of Christ, of which the utmost compass was the withdrawal of God and the felt loneliness of the Sufferer. But they that stood by the Cross, misinterpreting the meaning, and mistaking the opening words for the name Elias, imagined that the Sufferer had called for Elias. We can scarcely doubt, that these were the soldiers who stood by the Cross. They were not necessarily Romans; on the contrary, as we have seen, these Legions were generally recruited from Provincials On the other hand, no Jew would have mistaken Eli for the name of Elijah, not yet misinterpreted a quotation of Psa_22:1 as a call for that prophet. And it must be remembered, that the words were not whispered, but cried with a loud voice. But all entirely accords with the misunderstanding of non-Jewish soldiers, who, as the whole history shows, had learned from His accusers and the infuriated mob snatches of a distorted story of the Christ.

And presently the Sufferer emerged on the other side. It can scarcely have been a minute or two from the time that the cry from the twenty-second Ps marked the high-point of His Agony, when the words ‘I thirst’ seem to indicate, by the prevalence of the merely human aspect of the suffering, that the other and more terrible aspect of sin-bearing and God-forsakenness was past. To us, therefore, this seems the beginning, if not of Victory, yet of Rest, of the End. John alone records this Utterance, prefacing it with this distinctive statement, that Jesus so surrendered Himself to the human feeling, seeking the bodily relief by expressing His thirst: knowing that all things were now finished, that the Scripture might be fulfilled. In other words, the climax of Theanthropic Suffering in His feeling of God-forsakenness, which had led to the utterance of Psa_22:1, was now to His consciousness, the end of all which in accordance with Scripture-prediction He had to bear. He now could and did yield Himself to the mere physical wants of His Body. It seems as if John, having perhaps just returned to the scene, and standing with the women ‘afar off,’ beholding these things, had hastened forward on the cry from Ps 22, and heard Him express the feeling of thirst, which immediately followed. And so John alone supplies the link between that cry and the movement on the part of the soldiers, which Matthew and Mark, as well as John, report. For, it would be impossible to understand why, on what the soldiers regarded as a call for Elijah, one of them should have hastened to relieve His thirst, but for the utterance recorded in the Fourth Gospel. But we can quite understand it, if the utterance, ‘I thirst,’ followed immediately on the previous cry.

One of the soldiers – may we not be allowed to believe, one who either had already learned from that Cross, or was about to learn, to own Him Lord – moved by sympathy, now ran to offer some slight refreshment to the Sufferer by filling a sponge with the rough wine of the soldiers and putting it to His lips, having first fastened to the stem (‘reed’) of the caper (‘hyssop’), which is said to grow to the height of even two or three feet. But, even so, this act of humanity was not allowed to pass unchallenged by the coarse jibes of the others, who would bid him leave the relief of the Sufferer to the agency of Elijah, which in their opinion He had invoked. Nor should we perhaps wonder at the weakness of that soldier himself, who, though he would not be hindered in his good deed? yet averted the opposition of the others by apparently joining in their mockery.

By accepting the physical refreshment offered Him, the Lord once more indicated the completion of the work of His Passion. For, as He would not enter on it with His senses and physical consciousness lulled by narcotised wine, so He would not pass out of it with senses and physical consciousness dulled by the absolute failure of life-power. Hence He took what for the moment restored the physical balance, needful for thought and word. And so He immediately passed on to ‘taste death for every man.’ For, the two last ‘sayings’ of the Saviour now followed in rapid succession: first, that with a loud voice, which expressed it, that the work given Him to do, as far as concerned His Passion, was ‘finished;’ and then, that in the words of Psa_31:5, in which He commended His Spirit into the Hands of the Father. Attempts at comment could only weaken the solemn thoughts which the words awaken. Yet some points should be noted for our teaching. His last cry ‘with a loud voice’ was not like that of one dying. Mark notes, that this made such deep impression on the Centurion. In the language of the early Christian hymn, it was not Death which approached Christ, but Christ Death: He died without death. Christ encountered Death, not as conquered, but as the Conqueror. And this also was part of His work, and for us: now the beginning of His Triumph. And with this agrees the peculiar language of John, that He ‘bowed the Head, and gave up the Spirit’ (τὸ πνεῦμα).

Nor should we fail to mark the peculiarities of His last Utterance. The ‘My God’ of the fourth Utterance had again passed into the ‘Father’ of conscious fellowship. And yet neither in the Hebrew original of this Psalm, nor in its Greek rendering by the LXX., does the word ‘Father’ occur. Again, in the LXX. translation of the Hebrew text this word expressive of entrustment – the commending – is in the future tense; on the lips of our Lord it is in the present tense. And the word, in its New Testament sense, means not merely commending: it is to deposit, to commit for safe keeping. That in dying – or rather meeting and overcoming Death – He chose and adapted these words, is matter for deepest thankfulness to the Church. He spoke them for His people in a twofold sense: on their behalf, that they might be able to speak them; and ‘for them,’ that henceforth they might speak them after Him. How many thousands have pillowed their heads on them when going to rest! They were the last words of a Polycarp, a Bernard, Huss, Luther, and Melanchthon. And to us also they may be the fittest and the softest lullaby. And in ‘the Spirit’ which He had committed to God did now descend into Hades, ‘and preached unto the spirits in Prison.’ But behind this great mystery have closed the two-leaved gates of brass, which only the Hand of the Conqueror could burst open.

And now a shudder ran through Nature, as its Sun had set. We dare not do more than follow the rapid outlines of the Evangelic narrative. As the first token, it records the rending of the Temple-Veil in two from the top downward to the bottom; as the second, the quaking of the earth, the rending of the rocks and the opening of the graves. Although most writers have regarded this as indicating the strictly chronological succession, there is nothing in the text to bind us to such a conclusion. Thus, while the rending of the Veil is recorded first, as being the most significant token to Israel, it may have been connected with the earthquake, although this alone might scarcely account for the tearing of so heavy a Veil from the top to the bottom. Even the latter circumstance has its significance. That some great catastrophe, betokening the impending destruction of the Temple, had occurred in the Sanctuary about this very time, is confirmed by not less than four mutually independent testimonies: those of Tacitus, of Josephus, of the Talmud, and of earliest Christian tradition. The most important of these are, of course, the Talmud and Josephus. The latter speaks of the mysterious extinction of the middle and chief light in the Golden Candlestick, forty years before the destruction of the Temple; and both he and the Talmud refer to a supernatural opening by themselves of the great Temple-gates that had been previously closed, which was regarded as a portent of the coming destruction of the Temple. We can scarcely doubt, that some historical fact must underlie so peculiar and widespread a tradition, and we cannot help feeling that it may be a distorted version of the occurrence of the rending of the Temple-Veil (or of its report) at the Crucifixion of Christ.

But even if the rending of the Temple-Veil had commenced with the earthquake, and, according to the Gospel to the Hebrews, with the breaking of the great lintel over the entrance, it could not be wholly accounted for in this manner. According to Jewish tradition, there were, indeed, two Veils before the entrance to the Most Holy Place. The Talmud explains this on the ground that it was not known, whether in the former Temple the Veil had hung inside or outside the entrance and whether the partition-wall had stood in the Holy or Most Holy Place. Hence (according to Maimonides) there was not any wall between the Holy and Most Holy Place, but the space of one cubit, assigned to it in the former Temple, was left unoccupied, and one Veil hung on the side of the Holy, the other on that of the Most Holy Place. According to an account dating from Temple-times, there were altogether thirteen Veils used in various parts of the Temple – two new ones being made every year. The Veils before the Most Holy Place were 40 cubits (60 feet) long, and 20 (30 feet) wide, of the thickness of the palm of the hand, and wrought in 72 squares, which were joined together; and these Veils were so heavy, that, in the exaggerated language of the time, it needed 300 priests to manipulate each. If the Veil was at all such as is described in the Talmud, it could not have been rent in twain by a mere earthquake or the fall of the lintel, although its composition in squares fastened together might explain, how the rent might be as described in the Gospel.

Indeed, everything seems to indicate that, although the earthquake might furnish the physical basis, the rent of the Temple-Veil was – with reverence be it said – really made by the Hand of God. As we compute, it may just have been the time when, at the Evening-Sacrifice, the officiating Priesthood entered the Holy Place either to burn the incense or to do other sacred service there. To see before them, not as the aged Zacharias at the beginning of this history the Angel Gabriel, but the Veil of the Holy Place rent from top to bottom – that beyond it they could scarcely have seen – and hanging in two parts from its fastenings above and at the side, was, indeed, a terrible portent, which would soon become generally known, and must, in some form or other, have been preserved in tradition. And they all must have understood, that it meant that God’s Own Hand had rent the Veil, and for ever deserted and thrown open that Most Holy Place where He had so long dwelt in the mysterious gloom, only lit up once a year by the glow of the censer of him, who made atonement for the sins of the people.

Other tokens were not wanting. In the earthquake the rocks were rent, and their tombs opened. This, as Christ descended into Hades. And when He ascended on the third day, it was with victorious saints who had left those open graves. To many in the Holy City on that ever-memorable first day, and in the week that followed, appeared the bodies of many of those saints who had fallen on sleep in the sweet hope of that which had now become

The history of the Life of Christ upon earth closes with a Miracle as great as that of its inception. It may be said that the one casts light upon the other. If He was what, the Gospels represent Him, He must have been born of a pure Virgin, without sin, and He must have risen from the Dead. If the story of His Birth be true, we can believe that of His Resurrection; if that of His Resurrection be true, we can believe that of His Birth. In the nature of things, the latter was incapable of strict historical proof; and, in the nature of things His Resurrection demanded and was capable of the fullest historical evidence. If such exists, the keystone is given to the arch; the Birth becomes almost a necessary postulate, and Jesus is the Christ in the full sense of the Gospels. And yet we mark, as another parallel point between the account of the miraculous Birth and that of the Resurrection, the utter absence of details as regards these events themselves. If this circumstance may be taken as indirect evidence that they were not legendary, it also imposes on us the duty of observing the reverent silence so well-befitting the case, and not intruding beyond the path which the Evangelic narrative has opened to us.

That path is sufficiently narrow, and in some respects difficult; not, indeed, as to the great event itself, nor as to its leading features, but as to the more minute details. And here, again, our difficulties arise, not so much from any actual disagreement, as from the absence of actual identity. Much of this is owing to the great compression in the various narratives, due partly to the character of the event narrated, partly to the incomplete information possessed by the narrators – of whom only one was strictly an eyewitness, but chiefly to this, that to the different narrators the central point of interest lay in one or the other aspect of the circumstances connected with the Resurrection. Not only Matthew, but also Luke, so compresses the narrative that ‘distinction of points of time’ is almost effaced. Luke seems to crowd into the Easter Evening what himself tells us occupied forty days. His is, so to speak, the pre-eminently Jerusalem account of the evidence of the Resurrection; that of Matthew the pre-eminently Galilean account of it. Yet each implies and corroborates the facts of the other. In general we ought to remember, that the Evangelists, and afterwards Paul, are not so much concerned to narrate the whole history of the Resurrection as to furnish the evidence for it. And here what is distinctive in each is also characteristic of his special view-point. Matthew describes the impression of the full evidence of that Easter morning on friend and foe, and then hurries us from the Jerusalem stained with Christ’s Blood back to the sweet Lake and the blessed Mount where first He spake. It is, as if he longed to realise the Risen Christ in the scenes where he had learned to know Him. Mark, who, is much more brief, gives not only a mere summary, but, if one might use the expression, tells it as from the bosom of the Jerusalem family, from the house of his mother Mary. Luke seems to have made most full inquiry as to all the facts of the Resurrection, and his narrative might almost be inscribed: ‘Easter Day in Jerusalem.’ John paints such scenes – during the whole forty days, whether in Jerusalem or Galilee – as were most significant and teachful of this threefold lesson of his Gospels: that Jesus was the Christ, that He was the Son of God, and that, believing, we have life in His Name. Lastly, Paul – as one born out of due time – produces the testimony of the principal witnesses to the fact, in a kind of ascending climax. And this the more effectively, that he is evidently aware of the difficulties and the import of the question, and has taken pains to make himself acquainted with all the facts of the case.

The question is of such importance, alike, in itself and as regards this whole history, that a discussion, however brief and even imperfect, preliminary to the consideration of the Evangelic narrations, seems necessary.

What thoughts concerning the Dead Christ filled the minds of Joseph of Arimathaea of Nicodemus, and of the other disciples of Jesus, as well as of the Apostles and of the, pious women? They believed Him to be dead, and they did not expect Him to rise again from the dead – at least, in our accepted sense of it. Of this there is abundant evidence from the moment of His Death, in the burial-spices brought by Nicodemus, in those prepared by the women (both of which were intended as against corruption), in the sorrow of the women at the empty tomb, in their supposition that the Body had been removed, in the perplexity and bearing of the Apostles, in the doubts of so many, and indeed in the express statement: ‘For as yet they knew not the Scripture, that He must rise again from the dead.’ And the notice in Matthew’s Gospel, that the Sanhedrists had taken precautions against His Body being stolen, so as to give the appearance of fulfilment to His prediction that He would rise again after three days – that, therefore, they knew of such a prediction, and took it in the literal sense – would give only more emphasis to the opposite bearing of the disciples and their manifest non-expectancy of a literal Resurrection. What the disciples expected, perhaps wished, was not Christ’s return in glorified corporeity, but His Second Coming in glory into His Kingdom.

But if they regarded Him as really dead and not to rise again in the literal sense, this had evidently no practical effect, not only on their former feelings towards Him, but even on, their faith in Him as the promised Messiah. This appears from the conduct of Joseph and Nicodemus, from the language of the women, and from the whole bearing of the Apostles and disciples. All this must have been very different, if they had regarded the Death of Christ, even on the Cross, as having given the lie to His Messianic claims. On the contrary, the impression left on our minds is, that, although they deeply grieved over the loss of their Master, and the seeming triumph of His foes, yet His Death came to them not unexpectedly, but rather as of internal necessity and as the fulfilment of His often repeated prediction. Nor can we wonder at this, since He had, ever since the Transfiguration, laboured, against all their resistance and reluctance, to impress on them the fact of His Betrayal and Death. He had, indeed – although by no means so frequently or clearly – also referred to His Resurrection. But of this they might, according to their Jewish ideas, form a very different conception from that of a literal Resurrection of that Crucified Body in a glorified state, and yet capable of such terrestrial intercourse as the Risen Christ held with them. And if it be objected that, in such case, Christ must have clearly taught them all this, it is sufficient to answer, that there was no need for such clear teaching on the point at that time; that the event itself would soon and best teach them; that it would have been impossible really to teach it, except by the event; and that any attempt at it would have involved a far fuller communication on this mysterious subject than, to judge from what is told us in Scripture, it was the purpose of Christ to impart in our present state of faith and expectancy. Accordingly, from their point of view, the prediction of Christ might have referred to the continuance of His Work, to His Vindication, or to apparition of Him, whether from heaven or on earth – such as, that of the saints in Jerusalem after the Resurrection, or that of Elijah in Jewish belief – but especially to His return in glory; certainly, not to the Resurrection as it actually took place. The fact itself would be quite foreign to Jewish ideas, which embraced the continuance of the soul after death and the final resurrection of the body, but not a state of spiritual corporeity, far less, under conditions such as those described in the Gospels. Elijah, who is so constantly introduced in Jewish tradition, is never represented as sharing in meals or offering his body for touch; nay, the Angels who visited Abraham are represented as only making show of, not really, eating. Clearly, the Apostles had not learned the Resurrection of Christ either from the Scriptures – and this proves that the narrative of it was not intended as a fulfilment of previous expectancy – nor yet from the predictions of Christ to that effect; although without the one, and especially without the other, the empty grave would scarcely have wrought in them the assured conviction of the Resurrection of Christ.

This brings us to the real question in hand. Since the Apostles and others evidently believed Him to be dead, and expected not His Resurrection, and since the fact of His Death was not to them a formidable, if any, objection to His Messianic Character – such as might have induced them to invent or imagine a Resurrection – how are we to account for the history of the Resurrection with all its details in all the four Gospels and by Paul? The details, or ‘signs’ are clearly intended as evidences to all of the reality of the Resurrection, without which it would not have been believed; and their multiplication and variety must, therefore, be considered as indicating what otherwise would have been not only numerous but insuperable difficulties. Similarly, the language of Paul implies a careful and searching inquiry on his part; the more rational, that, besides intrinsic difficulties and Jewish preconceptions against it, the objections to the fact must have been so often and coarsely obtruded on him, whether in disputation or by the jibes of the Greek scholars and students who derided his preaching.

Hence, the question to be faced is this: Considering their previous state of mind and the absence of any motive, how are we to account for the change of mind on the part of the disciples in regard the Resurrection? There can at least be no question, that they came to believe, and with the most absolute certitude, in the Resurrection as an historical fact; nor yet, that it formed the basis and substance of all their preaching of the Kingdom; nor yet, that Paul, up to his conversion a bitter enemy of Christ, was fully persuaded of it; nor – to go a step back – that Jesus Himself expected it. Indeed, the world would not have been converted to a dead Jewish Christ, however His intimate disciples might have continued to love His memory. But they preached everywhere first and foremost, the Resurrection from the dead! In the language of Paul: ‘If Christ hath not been raised, then is our preaching vain, your faith also is vain. Yea, and we are found false witnesses of God.. ye are yet in your sins.’ We must here dismiss what probably underlies the chief objection to the Resurrection: its miraculous character. The objection to Miracles, as such, proceeds on that false Supranaturalism, which traces a Miracle to the immediate fiat of the Almighty without any intervening links; and, as already shown, it involves a vicious petitio principii. But, after all, the Miraculous is only to us unprecedented and uncognisable – a very narrow basis on which to refuse historical investigation. And the historian has to account for the undoubted fact, that the Resurrection was the fundamental personal conviction of the Apostles and disciples, the basis of their preaching, and the final support of their martyrdom. What explanation then can be offered of it?

1. We may here put aside two hypotheses, now universally discarded even in Germany, and which probably have never been seriously entertained in this country. They are that of gross fraud on the part of the disciples, who had stolen the Body of Jesus – as to which even Strauss remarks, that such a falsehood is wholly incompatible with their after-life, heroism, and martyrdom; – and again this, that Christ had not been really dead when taken from the Cross, and that He gradually revived again. Not to speak of the many absurdities which this theory involves, it really shifts – if we acquit the disciples of complicity – the fraud upon Christ Himself.

2. The only other explanation, worthy of attention, is the socalled ‘Vision-hypothesis:’ that the Apostles really believed in the Resurrection, but that mere visions of Christ had wrought in them this belief. The hypothesis has been variously modified. According to some, these visions were the outcome of an excited imagination, of a morbid state of the nervous system. To this there is, of course, the preliminary objection, that such visions presuppose a previous expectancy of the event, which, as we know, is the opposite of the fact. Again, such a ‘Vision-hypothesis’ in no way agrees with the many details and circumstances narrated in connection with the Risen One, Who is described as having appeared not only to one or another in the retirement of the chamber, but to many, and in a manner and circumstances which render the idea of a mere vision impossible. Besides, the visions of an excited imagination would not have endured and led to such results; most probably they would soon have given place to corresponding depression.

The ‘Vision-hypothesis’ is not much improved, if we regard the supposed vision as the result of reflection – that the disciples, convinced that the Messiah could not remain dead (and this again is contrary to fact) had wrought themselves first into a persuasion that He must rise, and then into visions of the Risen One. Nor yet would it commend itself more to our mind, if we were to assume that these visions had been directly sent from God Himself, to attest the fact that Christ lived. For, we have here to deal with a series of facts that cannot be so explained, such as the showing them His Sacred Wounds; the offer to touch them; the command to handle Him, so as to convince themselves of His real corporeity; the eating with the disciples; the appearance by the Lake of Galilee, and others. Besides, the ‘Vision-hypothesis’ has to account for the events of the Easter-morning, and especially for the empty tomb from which the great stone had been rolled, and in which the very cerements of death were seen by those who entered it. In fact, such a narrative as that recorded by Luke seems almost designed to render the ‘Vision-hypothesis’ impossible. We are expressly told, that the appearance of the Risen Christ, so far from meeting their anticipations, had affrighted them, and that they had thought it spectral, on which Christ had reassured them, and bidden them handle Him, for ‘a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye behold Me having.’ Lastly, who removed the Body of Christ from the tomb? Six weeks afterwards, Peter preached the Resurrection of Christ in Jerusalem. If Christ’s enemies had removed the Body, they could easily have silenced Peter; if His friends, they would have been guilty, of such fraud, as not even Strauss deems possible in the circumstances. The theories of deception, delusion, and vision being thus impossible, and the a priori objection to the fact, as involving a Miracle, being a petitio principii, the historical student is shut up to the simple acceptance of the narrative. To this conclusion the unpreparedness of the disciples, their previous opinions, their new testimony unto martyrdom, the foundation of the Christian Church, the testimony of so many, singly and in company, and the series of recorded manifestations during forty days, and in such different circumstances, where mistake was impossible, had already pointed with unerring certainty. And even if slight discrepancies, nay, some not strictly historical details, which might have been the outcome of earliest tradition in the Apostolic Church, could be shown in those accounts which were not of eyewitnesses, it would assuredly not invalidate the great fact itself, which may unhesitatingly be pronounced that best established in history. At the same time we would carefully guard ourselves against the admission that those hypothetical flaws really exist in the narratives. On the contrary, we believe them capable of the most satisfactory arrangement, unless under the strain of hypercriticism.

The importance of all this cannot be adequately expressed in words. A dead Christ might have been a Teacher and Wonder-worker, and remembered and loved as such. But only a Risen and Living Christ could be the Saviour, the Life, and the Life-Giver – and as such preached to all men. And of this most blessed truth we have the fullest and most unquestionable evidence. We can, therefore, implicitly yield ourselves to the impression of these narratives, and, still more, to the realisation of that most sacred and blessed fact. This is the foundation of the Church, the inscription on the banner of her armies, the strength and comfort of every Christian heart and the grand hope of humanity:

‘The Lord is risen indeed.’

(Mat_28:1-10; Mar_16:1-11; Luk_24:1-12; Joh 20:1-18; Mat_28:11-15; Mar_16:12, Mar_16:13; Luk 24:13-35; 1Co_15:5; Mar_16:14; Luk_24:36-43; Joh_20:19-25; Joh_20:26-29; Mat_28:16; Joh 21:1-24; Mat_28:17-20; Mar_16:15-18; 1Co_15:6; Luk_24:44-53; Mar_16:19, Mar_16:20; Act_1:3-12)

Grey dawn was streaking the sky, when they who had so lovingly watched Him to His Burying were making their lonely way to the rock-hewn Tomb in the Garden. Considerable as are the difficulties of exactly harmonising the details in the various narratives – if, indeed, importance attaches to such attempts – we are thankful to know that any hesitation only attaches to the arrangement of minute particulars, and not to the great facts of the case. And even these minute details would, as we shall have occasion to show, be harmonious, if only we knew all the circumstances.

The difference, if such it may be called, in the names of the women, who at early morn went to the Tomb, scarce requires elaborate discussion. It may have been, that there were two parties, starting from different places to meet at the Tomb, and that this also accounts for the slight difference in the details of what they saw and heard at the Grave. At any rate, the mention of the two Marys and Joanna is supplemented in Luke by that of the ‘other women with them’ while, if John speaks only of Mary Magdalene, her report to Peter and John: ‘We know not where they have laid Him,’ implies, that she had not gone alone to the Tomb. It was the first day of the week – according to Jewish reckoning the third day from His Death. The narrative leaves the impression that the Sabbath’s rest had delayed their visit to the Tomb; but it is at least a curious coincidence that the relatives and friends of the deceased were in the habit of going to the grave up to the third day (when presumably corruption was supposed to begin), so as to make sure that those laid there were really dead. Commenting on this, that Abraham descried Mount Moriah on the third day, the Rabbis insist on the importance of ‘the third day’ in various events connected with Israel, and specially speak of it in connection with the resurrection of the dead, referring in proof to Hos_6:2. In another place, appealing to the same prophetic saying, they infer from Gen_42:17, that God never leaves the just more than three days in anguish. In mourning also the third day formed a sort of period, because it was thought that the soul hovered round the body till the third day, when it finally parted from its earthly tabernacle.

Although these things are here mentioned, we need scarcely say that no such thoughts were present with the holy mourners who, in the grey of that Sunday-morning, went to the Tomb. Whether or not there were two groups of women who started from different places to meet at the Tomb, the most prominent figure among them was Mary Magdalene – as prominent among the pious women as Peter was among the Apostles. She seems to have first reached the Grave, and, seeing the great stone that had covered its entrance rolled away, hastily judged that the Body of the Lord had been removed. Without waiting for further inquiry, she ran back to inform Peter and John of the fact. The Evangelist here explains, that there had been a great earthquake, and that the Angel of the Lord, to human sight as lightning and in brilliant white garment, had rolled back the stone, and sat upon it, when the guard, affrighted by what they heard and saw, and especially by the look and attitude of heavenly power in the Angel, had been seized with mortal faintness. Remembering the events connected with the Crucifixion, which had no doubt been talked about among the soldiery, and bearing in mind the impression of such a sight on such minds, we could readily understand the effect on the two sentries who that long night had kept guard over the solitary Tomb. The event itself (we mean; as regards the rolling away of the stone), we suppose to have taken place after the Resurrection of Christ, in the early dawn, while the holy women were on their way to the Tomb. The earthquake cannot have been one in the ordinary sense, but a shaking of the place, when the Lord of Life burst the gates of Hades to re-tenant His Glorified Body, and the lightning-like Angel descended from heaven to roll away the stone. To have left it there, when the Tomb was empty, would have implied what was no longer true. But there is a sublime irony in the contrast between man’s elaborate precautions and the ease with which the Divine Hand can sweep them aside, and which, as throughout the history of the Christ and of His Church, recalls the prophetic declaration: ‘He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh at them.’

While the Magdalene hastened, probably by another road, to the abode of Peter and John, the other women also had reached the Tomb either in one party, or, it may be, in two companies. They had wondered and feared how they could accomplish their pious purpose – for, who would roll away the stone for them? But, as so often, the difficulty apprehended no longer existed. Perhaps they thought that the now absent Mary Magdalene had obtained help for this. At any rate, they now entered the vestibule of the Sepulchre. Here the appearance of the Angel filled them with fear. But the heavenly Messenger bade them dismiss apprehension; he told them that Christ was not there, nor yet any longer dead, but risen, as, indeed, He had foretold in Galilee to His disciples; finally, he bade them hasten with the announcement to the disciples, and with this message that, as Christ had directed them before, they were to meet Him in Galilee. It was not only that this connected, so to speak, the wondrous present with the familiar past, and helped them to realise that it was their very Master; nor yet that in the retirement, quiet, and security of Galilee, there would be best opportunity for fullest manifestation, as to the five hundred, and for final conversation and instruction. But the main reason, and that which explains the otherwise strange, almost exclusive, prominence given at such a moment to the direction to meet Him in Galilee, has already been indicated in a previous chapter. With the scattering of the Eleven in Gethsemane on the night of Christ’s betrayal, the Apostolic College was temporarily broken up. They continued, indeed, still to meet together as individual disciples, but the bond of the Apostolate was for the moment, dissolved. And the Apostolic circle was to be re-formed, and the Apostolic Commission renewed and enlarged, in Galilee; not, indeed, by its Lake, where only seven of the Eleven seem to have been present, but on the mountain where He had directed them to meet Him. Thus was the end to be like the beginning. Where He had first called, and directed them for their work, there would He again call them, give fullest directions, and bestow new and amplest powers. His appearances in Jerusalem were intended to prepare them for all this, to assure them completely and joyously of the fact of His Resurrection – the full teaching of which would be given in Galilee. And when the women, perplexed and scarcely conscious, obeyed the command to go in and examine for themselves the now empty niche in the Tomb, they saw two Angels – probably as the Magdalene afterwards saw them – one at the head, the other at the feet, where the Body of Jesus had lain. They waited no longer, but hastened, without speaking to any one, to carry to the disciples the tidings of which they could not even yet grasp the full import.

2. But whatever unclearness of detail may rest on the narratives of the Synoptists, owing to their great compression, all is distinct when we follow the steps of the Magdalene, as these are traced in the Fourth Gospel. Hastening from the Tomb, she ran to the lodging of Peter and to that of John – the repetition of the preposition ‘to’ probably marking, that the two occupied different, although perhaps closely adjoining, quarters. Her startling tidings induced them to go at once – ‘and they went towards the sepulchre.’ ‘But they began to run, the two together’ – probably so soon as they were outside the town and near ‘the Garden.’ John, as the younger, outran Peter. Reaching the Sepulchre first, and stooping down, ‘he seeth’ (βλέπει) the linen clothes, but, from his position, not the napkin which lay apart by itself. If reverence and awe prevented John from entering the Sepulchre, his impulsive companion, who arrived immediately after him, thought of nothing else than the immediate and full clearing up of the mystery. As he entered the sepulchre, he ‘steadfastly (intently) beholds’ (θεωρεῖ) in one place the linen swathes that had bound the Sacred Limbs, and in another the napkin that had been about His Head. There was no sign of haste, but all was orderly, leaving the impression of One Who had leisurely divested Himself of what no longer befitted Him. Soon ‘the other disciple’ followed Peter. The effect of what he saw was, that he now believed in his heart that the Master was risen – for till then they had not yet derived from Holy Scripture the knowledge that He must rise again. And this also is most instructive. It was not the belief previously derived from Scripture, that the Christ was to rise from the Dead, which led to expectancy of it, but the evidence that He had risen which led them to the knowledge of what Scripture taught on the subject.

3. Yet whatever light had risen in the inmost sanctuary of John’s heart, he spake not his thoughts to the Magdalene, whether she had reached the Sepulchre ere the two left it, or met them by the way. The two Apostles returned to their home, either feeling that nothing more could be learned at the Tomb, or to wait for further teaching and guidance. Or it might even have been partly due to a desire not to draw needless attention to the empty Tomb. But the love of the Magdalene could not rest satisfied, while doubt hung over the fate of His Sacred Body. It must be remembered that she knew only of the empty Tomb. For a time she gave way to the agony of her sorrow; then, as she wiped away her tears, she stooped to take one more look into the Tomb, which she thought empty, when, as she ‘intently gazed’ (θεωρεῖ), the Tomb seemed no longer empty. At the head and feet, where the Sacred Body had lain, were seated two Angels in white. Their question, so deeply true from their knowledge that Christ had risen: ‘Woman, why weepest thou?’ seems to have come upon the Magdalene with such overpowering suddenness, that, without being able to realise – perhaps in the semi-gloom – who it was that had asked it, she spake, bent only on obtaining the information she sought: ‘Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid Him.’ So is it often with us, that, weeping, we ask the question of doubt or fear, which, if we only knew, would never have risen to our lips; nay, that heaven’s own ‘Why?’ fails to impress us, even when the Voice of its Messengers would gently recall us from the error of our impatience.

But already another answer was to be given to the Magdalene. As she spake, she became conscious of another Presence close to her. Quickly turning round, ‘she gazed’ (θεωρεῖ) on One Whom she recognised not, but regarded as the gardener, from His presence there and from His question: ‘Woman, why weepest then? Whom seekest thou?’ The hope, that she might now learn what she sought, gave wings to her words – intensity and pathos. If the supposed gardener had borne to another place the Sacred Body, she would take It away, if she only knew where It was laid. This depth and agony of love, which made the Magdalene forget even the restraints of a Jewish woman’s intercourse with a stranger, was the key that opened the Lips of Jesus. A moment’s pause, and He spake her name in those well-remembered accents, that had first unbound her from sevenfold demoniac power and called her into a new life. It was as another unbinding, another call into a new life. She had not known His appearance, just as the others did not know Him at first, so unlike, and yet so like, was the glorified Body to that which they had known. But, she could not mistake the Voice, especially when It spake to her, and spake her name. So do we also often fail to recognise the Lord when He comes to us ‘in another form’ than we had known. But we cannot fail to recognise Him when He speaks to us and speaks our name.

Perhaps we may here be allowed to pause, and, from the non-recognition of the Risen Lord till He spoke, ask this question: With what body shall we rise? Like or unlike the past? Assuredly, most like. Our bodies will then be true; for the soul will body itself forth according to its past history – not only impress itself, as now on the features, but express itself – so that a man may be known by what he is, and as what he is. Thus, in this respect also, has the Resurrection a moral aspect, and is the completion of the history of mankind and of each man. And the Christ also must have borne in His glorified Body all that He was, all that even His most intimate disciples had not known nor understood while He was with them, which they now failed to recognise, but knew at once when He spake to them.

It was precisely this which now prompted the action of the Magdalene – prompted also, and explains, the answer of the Lord. As in her name she recognised His Name, the rush of old feeling came over her, and with the familiar ‘raboni !’ – my Master – she would fain have grasped Him. Was it the unconscious impulse to take hold on the precious treasure which she had thought for ever lost; the unconscious attempt to make sure that it was not merely an apparition of Jesus from heaven, but the real Christ in His corporeity on earth; or a gesture of veneration, the beginning of such acts of worship as her, heart prompted? Probably all these; and yet probably she was not at the moment distinctly conscious of either or of any of these feelings. But to them all there was one answer, and in it a higher direction, given by the words of the Lord: ‘Touch Me not, for I am not yet ascended to the Father.’ Not the Jesus appearing from heaven – for He had not yet ascended to the Father; not the former intercourse, not the former homage and worship. There was yet a future of completion before Him in the Ascension, of which, Mary knew not. Between that future of completion and the past of work, the present was a gap – belonging partly to the past and partly to the future. The past could not be recalled, the future could not be anticipated. The present was of reassurance, of consolation, of preparation, of teaching. Let the Magdalene go and tell His ‘brethren’ of the Ascension. So would she best and most truly tell them that she had seen Him; so also would they best learn how the Resurrection linked the past of His Work of love for them to the future: ‘I ascend unto My Father, and your Father, and to my God, and your God.’ Thus, the fullest teaching of the past, the clearest manifestation of the present, and the brightest teaching of the future – all as gathered up in the Resurrection – came to the Apostles through the mouth of love of her out of whom He had cast seven devils.

4. Yet another scene on that Easter morning does Matthew relate, in explanation of how the well-known Jewish calumny had arisen that the disciples had stolen away the Body of Jesus. He tells, how the guard had reported to the chief priests what had happened, and how they in turn had bribed the guard to spread this rumor, at the same time promising that if the fictitious account, of their having slept while the disciples robbed the Sepulchre should reach Pilate, they would intercede on their behalf. Whatever else may be said, we know that from the time of Justin Martyr  this has been the Jewish explanation. Of late, however, it has, among thoughtful Jewish writers, given place to the so-called ‘Vision-hypothesis,’ to which full reference has already been made.

5. It was the early afternoon of that spring-day perhaps soon after the early meal, when two men from that circle of disciples left the City. Their narrative affords deeply interesting glimpses into the circle of the Church in those first days. The impression conveyed to us is of utter bewilderment, in which only some things stood out unshaken and firm: love to the Person of Jesus; love among the brethren; mutual confidence and fellowship; together with a dim hope of something yet to come – if not Christ in His Kingdom, yet some manifestation of, or approach to it. The Apostolic College seems broken up into units; even the two chief Apostles, Peter and John, are only ‘certain of them that were with us.’ And no wonder; for they are no longer ‘Apostles’ – sent out. Who is to send them forth? Not a dead Christ! And what would be their commission, and to whom and whither? And above all rested a cloud of utter uncertainty and perplexity. Jesus was a Prophet mighty in word and deed before God and all the people. But their rulers had crucified Him. What was to be their new relation to Jesus; what to their rulers? And what of the great hope of the Kingdom, which they had connected with Him?

Thus they were unclear on that very Easter Day even as to His Mission and Work: unclear as to the past, the present, and the future. What need for the Resurrection, and for the teaching which the Risen One alone could bring! These two men had on that very day been in communication with Peter and John. And it leaves on us the impression, that, amidst the general confusion, all had brought such tidings as they had, or had come to hear them, and had tried but failed, to put it all into order or to see light around it. ‘The women’ had come to tell of the empty Tomb and of their vision of Angels, who said that He was alive. But as yet the Apostles had no explanation to offer. Peter and John had gone to see for themselves. They had brought back confirmation of the report that the Tomb was empty, but they had seen neither Angels nor Him Whom they were said to have declared alive. And, although the two had evidently left the circle of the disciples, if not Jerusalem, before the Magdalene came, yet we know that even her account did not carry conviction to the minds of those that heard it.

Of the two, who on that early spring afternoon left the City in company, we know that one bore the name of Cleopas. The other, unnamed, has for that very reason, and because the narrative of that work bears in its vividness the character of personal recollection, been identified with Luke himself. If so, then, as has been finely remarked, each of the Gospels would, like a picture, bear in some dim corner the indication of its author: the first, that of the ‘publican;’ that by Mark, that of the young man, who, in the night of the Betrayal, had fled from his captors; that of Luke in the companion of Cleopas; and that of John, in the disciple whom Jesus loved. Uncertainty, almost equal to that about the second traveller to Emmaus, rests on the identification of that place. But such great probability attaches, if not to the exact spot, yet to the locality, or rather the valley, that we may in imagination follow the two companions on their road.

We leave the City by the Western Gate. A rapid progress for about twenty-five minutes, and we have reached the edge of the plateau. The blood-stained City, and the cloud-and-gloom-capped trysting-place of the followers of Jesus, are behind us; and with every step forward and upward the air seems fresher and freer, as if we felt in it the scent of mountain, or even the far-off breezes of the sea. Other twenty-five or thirty minutes – perhaps a little more, passing here and there country-houses – and we pause to look back, now on the wide prospect far as Bethlehem. Again we pursue our way. We are now getting beyond the dreary, rocky region, and are entering on a valley. To our right is the pleasant spot that marks the ancient nep̱toah, on the border of Judah, now occupied by the village of Lifta. A short quarter of an hour more, and we have left the well-paved Roman road and are heading up a lovely valley. The path gently climbs in a north-westerly direction, with the height on which Emmaus stands prominently before us. About equidistant are, on the right Lifta, on the left Kolonieh. The roads from these two, describing almost a semicircle (the one to the north-west, the other to the north-east), meet about a quarter of a mile to the south of Emmaus (Hammoza, Beit Mizza). What an oasis this in a region of hills! Along the course of the stream, which babbles down, and low in the valley is crossed by a bridge, are scented orange, and lemon-gardens, olive-groves, luscious fruit trees, pleasant enclosures, shady nooks, bright dwellings, and on the height lovely Emmaus. A sweet spot to which to wander on that spring afternoon; a most suitable place where to meet such companionship, and to find such teaching, as on that Easter Day.

It may have been where the two roads from Lifta and Kolonieh meet, that the mysterious Stranger, Whom they knew not, their eyes being ‘holden,’ joined the two friends. Yet all these six or seven miles their converse had been of Him, and even now their flushed faces bore the marks of sadness on account of those events of which they had been speaking – disappointed hopes, all the more bitter for the perplexing tidings about the empty Tomb and the absent Body of the Christ. So is Christ often near to us when our eyes are holden, and we know Him not; and so do ignorance and unbelief often fill our hearts with sadness, even when truest joy would most become us. To the question of the Stranger about the topics of a conversation which had so visibly affected them, they replied in language which shows that they were so absorbed by it themselves, as scarcely to understand how even a festive pilgrim and stranger in Jerusalem could have failed to know it, or perceive its supreme importance. Yet, strangely unsympathetic as from His question He might seem, there was that in His Appearance which unlocked their inmost hearts. They told Him their thoughts about this Jesus; how He had showed Himself a Prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people; then, how their rulers had crucified Him; and, lastly, how fresh perplexity had come to them from the tidings which the women had brought, and which Peter and John had so far confirmed, but were unable to explain. Their words were almost child-like in their simplicity, deeply truthful, and with a pathos and earnest, craving for guidance and comfort that goes straight to the heart. To such souls it was, that the Risen Saviour would give His first teaching. The very rebuke with which He opened it must have brought its comfort. We also, in our weakness, are sometimes sore distrest when we hear what, at the moment, seem to us insuperable difficulties raised to any of the great truths of our holy faith; and, in perhaps equal weakness, feel comforted and strengthened, when some ‘great one’ turns them aside, or avows himself in face of them a believing disciple of Christ. As if man’s puny height could reach up to heaven’s mysteries, or any big infant’s strength were needed to steady the building which God has reared on that great Cornerstone! But Christ’s rebuke was not of such kind. Their sorrow arose from their folly in looking only at the things seen, and this, from their slowness to believe what the prophets had spoken. Had they attended to this, instead of allowing themselves to be swallowed up by the outward, they would have understood it all. Did not the Scriptures with one voice teach this twofold truth about the Messiah, that He was to suffer and to enter into His glory? Then why wonder – why not rather expect, that He had suffered, and that Angels had proclaimed Him alive again?

He spake it, and fresh hope sprang up in their hearts, new thoughts rose in their minds. Their eager gaze was fastened on Him as He now opened up, one by one, the Scriptures, from Moses and all the prophets, and in each well-remembered passage interpreted to them the things concerning Himself. Oh, that we had been there to hear – though in the silence of our hearts also, if only we crave for it, and if we walk with Him, He sometimes so opens from the Scriptures – nay, from all the Scriptures, that which comes not, to us by critical study: ‘the things concerning Himself.’ All too quickly fled the moments. The brief space was traversed, and the Stranger seemed about to pass on from Emmaus – not feigning it, but really: for, the Christ will only abide with us if our longing and loving constrain Him. But they could not part with Him. ‘They constrained Him.’ Love made them ingenious. It was toward evening; the day was far spent; He must even abide with them. What a rush of thought and feeling comes to us, as we think of it all, and try to realise times, scenes, circumstances in our experience, that are blessedly akin to it.

The Master allowed Himself to be constrained. He went in to be their guest, as they thought, for the night. The simple evening-meal was spread. He sat down with them, to the frugal board. And now He was no longer the Stranger; He was the Master. No one asked, or questioned, as He took the bread and spake the words of blessing, then, breaking, gave it to them. But that moment it was, as if an unfelt Hand had been taken from their eyelids, as if suddenly the film had been cleared from their sight. And as they knew Him, He vanished from their view – for, that which He had come to do had been done. They were unspeakably rich and happy now. But, amidst it all, one thing forced itself ever anew upon them, that, even while their eyes had yet been holden, their hearts had burned within them, while He spake to them and opened to them the Scriptures. So, then, they had learned to the full the Resurrection-lesson – not only that He was risen indeed, but that it needed not His seen Bodily Presence, if only He opened up to the heart and mind all the Scriptures concerning Himself. And this, concerning those other words about ‘holding’ and ‘touching’ Him – about having converse and fellowship with Him as the Risen One, had been also the lesson taught the Magdalene, when He would not suffer her loving, worshipful touch, pointing her to the Ascension before Him. This is the great lesson concerning the Risen One, which the Church fully learned in the Day of Pentecost.

6. That same afternoon, in circumstances and manner to us unknown, the Lord had appeared to Peter. We may perhaps suggest, that it was after His manifestation at Emmaus. This would complete the cycle of mercy: first, to the loving sorrow of the woman; next, to the loving perplexity of the disciples; then, to the anxious heart of the stricken Peter – last, in the circle of the Apostles, which was again drawing together around the assured fact of His Resurrection.

7. These two in Emmaus could not have kept the good tidings to themselves. Even if they had not remembered the sorrow and perplexity in which they had left their fellow-disciples in Jerusalem that forenoon, they could not have kept it to themselves, could not have remained in Emmaus, but must have gone to their brethren in the City. So they left the uneaten meal, and hastened back the road they had travelled with the now well-known Stranger – but, ah, with what lighter hearts and steps!

They knew well the trysting-place where to find ‘the Twelve’ – nay, not the Twelve now, but ‘the Eleven’ – and even thus their circle was not complete, for, as already stated, it was broken up, and at least Thomas was not with the others on that Easter-Evening of the first ‘Lord’s Day.’ But, as Luke is careful to inform is, with them were the others who then associated with them. This is of extreme importance, as marking that the words which the Risen Christ spake on that occasion were addressed not to the Apostles as such – a thought forbidden also by the absence of Thomas – but to the Church, although it may be as personified and represented by such of the ‘Twelve,’ or rather ‘Eleven,’ as were present on the occasion.

When the two from Emmaus arrived, they found the little band as sheep sheltering within the fold from the storm. Whether they apprehended persecution simply as disciples, or because the tidings of the empty Tomb, which had reached the authorities, would stir the fears of the Sanhedrists, special precautions had been taken. The outer and inner doors were shut, alike to conceal their gathering and to prevent surprise. But those assembled were now sure of at least one thing. Christ was risen. And when they from Emmaus told their wondrous story, the others could antiphonally reply by relating how He had appeared, not only to the Magdalene, but also to Peter. And still they seem not yet to have understood His Resurrection; to have regarded it as rather an Ascension too Heaven, from which He had made manifestation, than as the reappearance of His real, though glorified Corporeity.

They were sitting at meat – if we may infer from the notice of Mark, and from what happened immediately afterwards, discussing, not without considerable doubt and misgiving, the real import of these appearances of Christ. That to the Magdalene seems to have been put aside – at least, it is not mentioned, and, even in regard to the others, they seem to have been considered, at any rate by some, rather as what we might call spectral appearances. But all at once He stood in the midst of them. The common salutation – on His Lips not common, but a reality – fell on their hearts at first with terror rather than joy. They had spoken of spectral appearances, and now they believed they were ‘gazing’ (θεωρεῖν) on ‘a spirit.’ This the Saviour first, and once for all, corrected, by the exhibition of the glorified marks of His Sacred Wounds, and by bidding them handle Him to convince themselves, that His was a real Body, and what they saw not a disembodied spirit. The unbelief of doubt now gave place to the not daring to believe all that it meant, for very gladness, and for wondering whether there could now be any longer fellowship or bond, between this Risen Christ and them in their bodies. It was to remove this also, which, though from another aspect, was equally unbelief, that the Saviour now partook before them of their supper of broiled fish, thus holding with them true human fellowship as of old.

It was this lesson of His continuity – in the strictest sense – with the past, which was required in order that the Church might be, so to, speak, reconstituted now in the Name, Power, and Spirit of the Risen One Who had lived and died. Once more He spake the ‘Peace be unto you!’ and now it was to them not occasion of doubt or fear, but the well-known salutation of their old Lord and Master. It was followed by the re-gathering and constituting of the Church as that of Jesus Christ, the Risen One. The Church of the Risen One was to be the Ambassador of Christ, as He had been the Delegate of the Father. ‘The Apostles were [say rather, ‘the Church was’] commissioned to carry on Christ’s work, and not to begin a new one.’ ‘As the Father has sent Me [in the past, for His Mission was completed], even so send I you [in the constant present, till His Coming again].’ This marks the threefold relation of the Church to the Son, to the Father, and to the world, and her position in it. In the same manner, for the same purpose, nay, so far as possible, with the same qualification, and the same authority as the Father had sent Christ, does He commission His Church. And so it was that He made it a very real commission when He breathed on them, not individually but as an assembly, and said: ‘Take ye the Holy Ghost;’ and this, manifestly not in the absolute sense, since the Holy Ghost was not yet given, but as the connecting link with, and the qualification for, the authority bestowed on the Church. Or, to set forth another aspect of it by somewhat inverting the order of the words: Alike the Mission of the Church and her authority to forgive or retain sins are connected with a personal qualification: ‘Take ye the Holy Ghost;’ – in which the word ‘take’ should also be marked. This is the authority which the Church possesses, not ex opere operato, but as connected with the taking and the indwelling of the Holy Ghost in the Church.

It still remains to explain, so far as we can, these two points: In what this power of forgiving and retaining sins consists, and in what manner it resides in the Church. In regard to the former we must first inquire, what idea it would convey to those to whom Christ spake the words. It has already been explained, that the power of ‘loosing’ and ‘binding’ referred to the legislative authority claimed by, and conceded to, the Rabbinic College. Similarly, as previously, stated, that here referred to applied to their juridical or judicial power according to which they pronounced a person either ‘zakai,’ innocent or ‘free;’ ‘absolved,’ ‘patur:’ or else ‘liable,’ ‘guilty,’ ‘ḥayyaḇ’ (whether liable to punishment or sacrifice). In the true sense, therefore, this is rather administrative, disciplinary power, ‘the power of the keys’ – such as Paul would have had the Corinthian Church put in force – the power of admission and exclusion, of the authoritative declaration of the forgiveness of sins, in the exercise of which power (as it seems to the present writer) the authority for the administration of the Holy Sacraments is also involved. And yet it is not, as is sometimes represented, ‘absolution from sin,’ which belongs only to God and to Christ as Head of the Church, but absolution of the sinner, which He has delegated to His Church: ‘Whosesoever sins ye forgive, they are forgiven.’ These words also teach us, that what the Rabbis claimed in virtue of their office, that the Lord bestowed on His Church in virtue of her receiving, and of the indwelling of, the Holy Ghost.

In answering the second question proposed, we must bear in mind one important point. The power of ‘binding’ and ‘loosing’ had been primarily committed to the Apostles, and exercised by them in connection with the Church. On the other hand, that of forgiving and retaining sins, in the sense explained, was primarily bestowed on the Church, and exercised by her through her representatives, the Apostles, and those to whom they committed rule. Although, therefore, the Lord on that night committed this power to His Church, it was in the person of her representatives and rulers. The Apostles alone could exercise legislative functions, but the Church has to the end of time ‘the power of the keys.’

8. There had been absent from the circle of disciples on that Easter-Evening one of the Apostles, Thomas. Even when told of the marvellous events at that gathering, he refused to believe, unless had personal and sensuous evidence of the truth of the report. It can scarcely have been, that Thomas did not believe in the fact that Christ’s Body had quitted the Tomb, or that He had really appeared. But he held fast by what we may term the Vision-hypothesis or, in this case, rather the spectral theory. But until this Apostle also had come to conviction of the Resurrection in the only real sense of the identical though glorified Corporeity of the Lord, and hence of the continuity of the past with the present and future, it was impossible to re-form the Apostolic Circle, or to renew the Apostolic commission, since its primal message was testimony concerning the Risen One. This, if we may so suggest, seems the reason why the Apostles still remained in Jerusalem, instead of hastening, as directed, to meet the Master in Galilee.

A quiet week had passed, during which – and this also may be for our twofold learning – the Apostles excluded not Thomas, nor yet Thomas withdrew from the Apostles. Once more the day of days had come – the Octave of the Feast. From that Easter-Day onwards the Church must, even without special institution, have celebrated the weekly-recurring memorial of His Resurrection, and that when He breathed on the Church the breath of a new life, and consecrated it to be His Representative. Thus, it was not only the memorial of His Resurrection, but the birthday of the Church, even as Pentecost was her baptismal day. On that Octave, then the disciples were again gathered, under circumstances precisely similar to those of Easter, but now Thomas was also with them. Once more – and it is again specially marked: ‘the doors being shut’ – the Risen Saviour appeared in the midst of the disciples with the well-known salutation. He now offered to Thomas the demanded evidence; but it was no longer either needed or sought. With a full rush of feeling he yielded himself to the blessed conviction, which, once formed, must immediately have passed into act of adoration: ‘My Lord and my God!’ The fullest confession this hitherto made, and which truly embraced the whole outcome of the new conviction concerning the reality of Christ’s Resurrection. We remember how, under similar circumstances Nathanael had been the first to utter fullest confession. We also remember the analogous reply of the Saviour. As then, so now, He pointed to the higher: to a faith which was not the outcome of sight, and therefore limited and bounded by sight, whether of the senses or of perception by the intellect. As one has finely remarked: ‘This last and greatest of the Beatitudes is the peculiar heritage of the later Church’ – and thus most aptly comes as the consecration gift of that Church.

9. The next scene presented to us is once again by the Lake of Galilee. The manifestation to Thomas, and, with it, the restoration of unity in the Apostolic Circle, had originally concluded the Gospel of John. But the report which had spread in the early Church, that the Disciple whom Jesus loved was not to die, led him to add to his Gospel, by way of Appendix, an account of the events with which this expectancy had connected itself. It is most instructive to the critic, when challenged at every step to explain why one or another fact is not mentioned or mentioned only in one Gospel, to find that, but for the correction of a possible misapprehension in regard to the aged Apostle, the Fourth Gospel would have contained no reference to the manifestation of Christ in Galilee, nay, to the presence of the disciples there before the Ascension. Yet, for all that, John had it in his mind. And should we not learn from this, that what appear to us strange omissions, which, when held by the side of the other Gospel-narratives, seem to involve discrepancies, may be capable of the most satisfactory explanation, if we only knew all the circumstances?

The history itself sparkles like a gem in its own peculiar setting. It is of green Galilee, and of the blue Lake, and recalls the early days and scenes of this history. As Matthew has it, ‘the eleven disciples went away into Galilee’ – probably immediately after that Octave of the Easter. It can scarcely be doubted, that they made known not only the fact of the Resurrection, but the trysting which the Risen One had given them – perhaps at that Mountain where He had spoken His first ‘Sermon.’ And so it was, that ‘some doubted,’ and that He afterwards appeared to the five hundred at once. But on that morning there were by the Lake of Tiberias only seven of the disciples. Five of them only are named. They are those who most closely kept in company with Him – perhaps also they who lived nearest the Lake.

The scene is introduced by Peter’s proposal to go a-fishing. It seems as if the old habits had come back to them with the old associations. Peter’s companions naturally proposed to join him. All that still, clear night they were on the Lake, but caught nothing. Did not this recall to them the former event, when James and John, and Peter and Andrew were called to be Apostles, and did it not specially recall to Peter the searching and sounding of his heart on the morning that followed? But so utterly self-unconscious were they, and, let us add, so far is this history from any trace of legendary design, that not the slightest indication of this appears. Early morning was breaking, and under the rosy glow above the cool shadows were still lying on the pebbly ‘beach.’ There stood the Figure of One Whom they recognised not – nay, not even when He spake. Yet His Words were intended to bring them this knowledge. The direction to cast the net to the right side of the ship brought them, as He had said, the haul for which they had toiled all night in vain. And more than this: such a multitude of fishes, that they were not able to draw up the net into the ship. This was enough for ‘the disciple whom Jesus loved,’ and whose heart may previously have misgiven him. He whispered it to Peter: ‘It is the Lord,’ and Simon, only reverently gathering about him his fisher’s upper garment, cast himself into the sea. Yet even so, except to be sooner by the side of Christ, Peter seems to have gained nothing by his haste. The others, leaving the ship, and transferring themselves to a small boat, which must have been attached to it, followed, rowing the short distance of about one hundred yards, and dragging after them the net, weighted with the fishes.

They stepped on the beach, hallowed by His Presence, in silence, as if they had entered Church or Temple. They dared not even dispose of the netful of fishes which they had dragged on shore, until He directed them what to do. This only they noticed, that some unseen hand had prepared the morning meal, which, when asked by the Master, they had admitted they had not of their own. And now Jesus directed them to bring the fish they had caught. When Peter dragged up the weighted net, it was found full of great fishes, not less than a hundred and fifty-three in number. There is no need to attach any symbolic import to that number, as the Fathers and later writers have done. We can quite understand – nay, it seems almost natural, that in the peculiar circumstances, they should have counted the large fishes in that miraculous draught that still left the net unbroken. It may have been, that they, were told to count the fishes – partly, also, to show the reality of what had taken place. But on the fire of coals there seems to have been only one fish, and beside it only one bread. To this meal He now bade them, for they seem still to have hung back in reverent awe, nor durst they ask Him, Who He was, well knowing it was the Lord. This, as John notes, was the third appearance of Christ to the disciples as a body.

10. And still this morning of blessing was not ended. The frugal meal was past, with all its significant teaching of just sufficient provision for His Servants, and abundant supply in the unbroken net beside them. But some special teaching was needed, more even than that to Thomas, for him whose work was to be so prominent among the Apostles, whose love was so ardent, and yet in its very ardour so full of danger to himself. For, our dangers spring not only from deficiency, but it may be from excess of feeling, when that feeling is not commensurate with inward strength. Had Peter not confessed, quite honestly, yet, as the event proved, mistakingly, that his love to Christ would endure even an ordeal that would disperse all the others? And had he not, almost, immediately afterwards, and though prophetically warned of it, thrice denied his Lord? Jesus had, indeed, since then appeared specially to Peter as the Risen One. But this threefold denial still stood, as it were, uncancelled before the other disciples, nay, before Peter himself. It was to this that the threefold question of the Risen Lord now referred. Turning to Peter, with pointed though most gentle allusion to the danger of self-confidence – a confidence springing from only a sense of personal affection, even though genuine – He asked: ‘Simon, son of Jona’ – as it were with fullest reference to what he was naturally lovest thou Me more than these?’ Peter understood it all. No longer with confidence in self, avoiding the former reference to the others, and even with marked choice of a different word to express his affection from that which the Saviour, had used, he replied, appealing rather to his Lord’s, than to his own consciousness- ‘Yea, Lord, Thou knowest that I love Thee.’ And even here the answer of Christ is characteristic. It was to set him first the humblest work, that which needed most tender care and patience: ‘Feed [provide with food] My Lambs.’

Yet a second time came the same question, although now without the reference to the others, and, with the same answer by Peter, the now varied and enlarged commission: ‘Feed [shepherd, ποίμαινε] My Sheep.’ Yet a third time did Jesus repeat the same question, now adopting in it the very word which Peter had used to express his affection. Peter was grieved at this threefold repetition. It recalled only too bitterly his threefold denial. And yet the Lord was not doubtful of Peter’s love, for each time He followed up His question with a fresh Apostolic commission; but now that He put it for the third time, Peter would have the Lord send down the sounding-line quite into the lowest deep of his heart: ‘Lord, Thou knowest all things – Thou perceivest that I love Thee.’ And now the Saviour spake it: ‘Feed [provide food for] My Sheep,’ His Lambs, His Sheep, to be provided for, to be tended as such! And only love can do such service.

Yes, and Peter did love the Lord Jesus. He had loved Him when he said it, only too confident in the strength of his feelings, that he would follow the Master even unto death. And Jesus saw it all – yea, and how this love of the ardent temperament which had once made him rove at wild liberty, would give place to patient work of love, and be crowned with that martyrdom which, when the beloved disciple wrote, was already matter of the past. And the very manner of death by which he was to glorify God was indicated in the words of Jesus.

As He spake them, He joined the symbolic action to His ‘Follow Me.’ This command, and the encouragement of being in death literally made like Him-following Him – were Peter’s best strength. He obeyed; but as he turned to do so, he saw another following. As John himself puts it, it seems almost to convey that he had longed to share Peter’s call, with all that it implied. For, John speaks of himself as the disciple whom Jesus loved, and he reminds us that in that night of betrayal he had been specially a sharer with Peter, nay, had spoken what the other had silently asked of him. Was it impatience, was it a touch of the old Peter, or was it a simple inquiry of brotherly interest which prompted the question, as he pointed to John: ‘Lord-and this man, what?’ Whatever had been the motive, to him, as to us all, when, perplexed about those who seem to follow Christ, we ask it – sometimes in bigoted narrowness, sometimes in ignorance, folly, or jealousy – is this the answer: ‘What is that to thee? follow thou Me.’ For John also had his lifework for Christ. It was to ‘tarry’ while He was coming – to tarry those many years in patient labour, while Christ was coming.

But what did it mean? The saying went abroad among the brethren that John was not to die, but to tarry till Jesus came again to reign, when death would be swallowed up in victory. But Jesus had not so said, only: ‘If I will that he tarry while I am coming.’ What that ‘Coming’ was, Jesus had not said, and John knew not. So, then, there are things, and connected with His Coming, on which Jesus has left the veil, only to be lifted by His own Hand – which He means us not to know at present, and which we should be content to leave as He has left them.

11. Beyond this narrative we have only briefest notices: by Paul, of Christ manifesting Himself to James, which probably finally decided him for Christ, and of His manifestation to the five hundred at once; by Matthew, of the Eleven meeting Him at the mountain, where He had appointed them; by Luke, of the teaching in the Scriptures during the forty days of communication between the Risen Christ and the disciples.

But this twofold testimony comes to us from Matthew and Mark, that then the worshipping disciples were once more formed into the Apostolic Circle – Apostles, now, of the Risen Christ. And this was the warrant of their new commission: ‘All power (authority) has been given to Me in heaven and on earth.’ And this was their new commission: ‘Go ye, therefore, and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them into the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.’ And this was their work: ‘Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I commanded you.’ And this is His final and sure promise: ‘And lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.’

12. We are once more in Jerusalem, whither He had bidden them go to tarry for the fulfilment of the great promise. The Pentecost was drawing nigh. And on that last day – the day of His Ascension – He led them forth to the well-remembered Bethany. From where He had made His last triumphal Entry into Jerusalem before His Crucifixion, would He make His triumphant Entry visibly into Heaven. Once more would they have asked Him about that which seemed to them the final consummation – the restoration of the Kingdom to Israel. But such questions became them not. Theirs was to be work, not rest; suffering, not triumph. The great promise before them was of spiritual, not outward, power of the Holy Ghost – and their call not yet to reign with Him, but to bear witness for Him. And, as He so spake, He lifted His Hands in blessing upon them, and, as He was visibly taken up, a cloud received Him. And still they gazed, with upturned faces, on that luminous cloud which had received Him, and two Angels spake to them this last message from Him, that He should so come in like manner – as they had beheld Him going into heaven.

And so their last question to Him, ere He had parted from them, was also answered, and with blessed assurance. Reverently they worshipped Him; then, with great joy, returned to Jerusalem. So it was all true, all real – and Christ ‘sat down at the Right Hand of God!’ Henceforth, neither doubting, ashamed, nor yet afraid, they ‘were continually in the Temple, blessing God.’ ‘And they went forth and preached everywhere, the Lord working with them, and confirming the word by the signs that followed. Amen.’

Amen! It is so. Ring out the bells of heaven; sing forth the Angelic welcome of worship; carry it to the utmost bounds of earth! Shine forth from Bethany, Thou Sun of Righteousness, and chase away earth’s mist and darkness, for Heaven’s golden day has broken!

Easter Morning, 1883. – Our task is ended – and we also worship and look up. And we go back from this sight into a hostile world, to love, and to live, and to work for the Risen Christ. But as earth’s day is growing dim, and, with earth’s gathering darkness, breaks over it heaven’s storm, we ring out – as of old they were, wont, from church-tower, to the mariners that hugged a rock-bound coast – our Easter bells to guide them who are belated, over the storm-tossed sea, beyond the breakers, into the desired haven. Ring out, earth, all thy Easter-chimes; bring your offerings, all ye people; worship in faith, for – 

‘This Jesus, Which was received up from you into heaven, shall so come, in like manner as ye beheld Him going into heaven.’ ‘Even so, Lord Jesus, come quickly!’

(See Book I. chap. iii., and other places.)

Only the briefest account of these can be given in this place; barely more than an enumeration.

I. The Book of Enoch. – As the contents and the literature of this remarkable book, which is quoted by Jud_1:14, Jud_1:15, have been fully described in Dr. Smith’s and Wace’s Dictionary of Christian Biography (vol. 2 pp. 124-128) we may here refer to it the more shortly.

It comes to us from Palestine, but has only been preserved in an Ethiopic translation (published by Archbishop Laurence [Oxford, 1838; in English transl. 3rd ed. 1821-1838; German transl. by A. G. Hoffmann], then from five different MSS by Professor Dillmann [Leipzig, 1851; in German transl. Leipzig, 1853]). But even the Ethiopic translation is not from the original Hebrew or Aramaic, but from Greek version, of which a small fragment has been discovered (ch. 89:42-49; published by Cardinal Mai. Comp. also Gildemeister, Zeitschr. d. D. Morg. Ges. for 1855, pp. 621-624, and Gebhardt, Merx’ Arch. 2 1872, p. 243.).

As regards the contents of the work: An Introduction of five brief chapters, and the book (which, however, contains not a few spurious passages) consists of five parts, followed by a suitable Epilogue. The most interesting portions are those which tell of the Fall of the Angels and its consequences, of Enoch’s rapt journeys through heaven and earth, and of what he saw and heard (ch. vi.-xxxvi.); the Apocalyptic portions about the Kingdom of Heaven and the Advent of the Messiah (lxxxiii.-xci.); and, lastly, the hortatory discourses (xci.-cv.). When we add, that it is pervaded by a tone of intense faith and earnestness about the Messiah, ‘the last things,’ and other doctrines specially brought out in the New Testament, its importance will be understood. Altogether the Book of Enoch contains 108 chapters.

From a literary point of view, it has been arranged (by Schuerer and others) into three parts: – 1. The Original Work (Grundschrift) ch. i.-xxxvi.; lxxii.-cv. This portion is supposed to date from about 175 b.c. 2. The Parables, ch. xxxvii.-liv. 6; lv. 3-lix.; lxi.-lxiv.; lxix. 26-lxxi. This part also dates previous to the Birth of Christ – perhaps from the time of Herod the Great. 3. The so-called Noachian Sections, ch. liv. 7-lv. 2; lx.; lxv.-lxix. 25. To these must be added ch. cvi., cvii., and the later conclusion in ch. cviii. On the dates of all these portions it is impossible to speak definitely.

II. Even greater, though a different interest, attaches to the Sibylline Oracles written in Greek hexameters. In their present form they consist of twelve books,together with several fragments. Passing over two large fragments which seem to have originally formed the chief part of the introduction to Book III., we have (1) the two first Books. These contain part of an older and Hellenist Jewish Sibyl, as well as of a poem by the Jewish Pseudo-Phocylides, in which heathen myths concerning the first ages of man are curiously welded with Old Testament views. The rest of these two books was composed, and the whole put together, not earlier than the close of the second century, perhaps by a Jewish Christian. (2) The third Book is by far the most interesting. Besides the fragments already referred to, vv. 97-807 are the work of a Hellenist Jew, deeply imbued with the Messianic hope. This part dates from about 160 before our era, while vv. 49-96 seem to belong to the year 31 b.c. The rest (vv. 1-45, 818-828) dates from a later period. We must here confine our attention to the most ancient portion of the work. For our present purpose, we may arrange it into three parts. In the first, the ancient heathen theogony is recast in a Jewish mould – Uranus becomes Noah; Shem, Ham, and Japheth are Saturn, Titan, and Japetus, while the building of the Tower of Babylon is the rebellion of the Titans. Then the history of the world is told, the Kingdom of Israel and of David forming the centre of all. What we have called the second is the most curious part of the work. It embodies ancient heathen oracles, so to speak, in a Jewish recension, and interwoven with Jewish elements. The third part may be generally described as anti-heathen, polemical, and Apocalyptic. The Sibyl is thoroughly Hellenistic in spirit. She is loud and earnest in her appeals, bold and defiant in the tone of her Jewish pride, self-conscious and triumphant in her anticipations. But the most remarkable circumstance is, that this Judaising and Jewish Sibyl seems to have passed – though possibly only in parts – as the oracles of the ancient Erythraean Sibyl, which had predicted to the Greeks the fall of Troy, and those of the Sibyl of Cumae, which, in the infancy of Rome, Tarquinius Superbus had deposited in the Capitol, and that as such it is quoted from by Virgil (in his 4th Eclogue) in his description of the Golden Age.

Of the other Sibylline Books little need be add. The 4th, 5th, 9th, and 12th Books were written by Egyptian Jews at dates varying from the year 80 to the third century of our era. Book VI. is of Christian origin, the work of a Judaising Christian, about the second half of the second century. Book VIII., which embodies Jewish portions, is also of Christian authorship, and so are Books X. and XI.

III. The collection of eighteen hymns, which in their Greek version bear the name of the Psalter of Solomon, must originally have been written in Hebrew, and dates from more than half a century before our era. They are the outcome of a soul intensely earnest, although we not unfrequently meet expressions of Pharisaic self-righteousness. It is a time of national sorrow in which the poet sings, and if almost seems as if these ‘Psalms’ had been intended to take up one or another of the leading thoughts in the corresponding Davidic Psalms, and to make, as it were, application of them to the existing circumstances. Though, somewhat Hellenistic in its cast, the collection breathes ardent Messianic expectancy and a firm faith in the resurrection, and eternal reward and punishment (3:16; 13:9, 10; 14:2, 6, 7; 15:11 to the end).

IV. Another work of that class – ‘Little Genesis,’ or ‘The Book of Jubilees’ – has been preserved to us in its Ethiopic translation (though a Latin version of part of it has lately been discovered) and is a Haggadic Commentary on Genesis. Professing to be a revelation to Moses during the forty days on Mount Sinai, it seeks to fill lacunae in the sacred history, specially in reference to its chronology. Its character is hortatory and warning, and it breathes a strong anti-Roman spirit. It was written by a Palestinian in Hebrew, or rather Aramaean, probably about the time of Christ. The name, ‘Book of Jubilees,’ is derived from the circumstance that the Scripture-chronology is arranged according to Jubilee periods of forty-nine years, fifty of these (or 2,450 years) being counted from, the Creation to the entrance into Canaan.

V. Among the Pseudepigraphic Writings we also include the 4th Book of Esdras, which appears among our Apocrypha as 2 Esdras 3-14. (the two first and the two last chapters being spurious additions). The work, originally written in Greek, has only been preserved in translation into five different languages (Latin, Arabic, Syriac, Ethiopic, and Armenian). It was composed probably about the end of the first century after Christ. From this circumstance, and the influence of Christianity on the mind of the writer, who, however, is an earnest Jew, its interest and importance can be scarcely exaggerated. The name of Ezr was probably assumed, because the writer wished to treat mainly of the mystery of Israel’s fall and restoration.

The other Pseudepigraphic Writings are: – 

VI. The Ascension (ch. i.-v.) and Vision (ch. vi.-xi.) of Isaiah, which describes the martyrdom of the prophet (with a Christian interpolation [ch. iii. 14-iv. 22] ascribing his death to prophecy of Christ, and containing Apocalyptic portions), and then what he saw in heaven. The book is probably based on an older Jewish account, but is chiefly of Christian heretical authorship. It exists only in translations, of which that in Ethiopic (with Latin and English versions) has been edited, by Archbishop Laurence.

VII. The Assumption of Moses (probably quoted in Jud_1:9) also exists only in translation, and is really a fragment. It consists of twelve chapters. After an Introduction (ch. i.), containing an address of Moses to Joshua, the former, professedly, opens to Joshua the future of Israel to the time of Varus. This is followed by an Apocalyptic portion, beginning at ch. vii. and ending with ch. x. The two concluding chapters are dialogues between Joshua and Moses. The book dates probably from about the year 2 b.c., or shortly afterwards. Besides the Apocalyptic portions the interest lies chiefly in the fact that the writer seems to belong to the Nationalist party, and that we gain some glimpses of the Apocalyptic views and hopes – the highest, spiritual tendency – of that deeply interesting movement. Most markedly, this Book at least is strongly anti-Pharisaic, especially in its opposition to their purifications (ch. vii.). We would here specially note a remarkable resemblance between, 2Ti_3:1-5 and this in Assump. Mos. vii. 3-10; (3) ‘Et regnabunt de his homines pestilentiosi et impii, dicentes se esse lustos, (4) et hi suscitabunt iram animorum suorum, qui erunt homines dolosi, sibi placentes, ficti in omnibus suis et omni hora diei amantes convivia, devoratores gulae (5)… (6) [paupe] rum bonorum comestores, dicentes se haec facere propter misericordiam eorum, (7) sed et exterminatores, queruli et fallaces, celantes se ne possint cognosci, impii in scelere, pleni et iniquitate ab oriente usque ad occidentem, (8) dicentes: habebimus discubitiones et luxuriam edentes et bibentes, et potabimus nos, tamquam principes erimus. (9) Et manus eorum et dentes inmunda tractabunt, et os eorum loquetur ingentia, et superdicent: (10) noli [tu me] tangere, ne inquines me…’ But it is very significant, that instead of the denunciation of the Pharisees in 2Ti_3:9, 2Ti_3:10 of the Assumptio, we have in 2Ti_3:5 the words ‘having the form of godliness, but denying the power thereof.’

VII. The Apocalypse of Baruch.-This also exists only in Syriac translation, and is apparently fragmentary, since the vision promised in ch. lxxvi. 3 is not reported, while the Epistle of Baruch to the two and a half tribes in Babylon, referred to in lxxvii. 19, is also missing. The book has been divided into seven sections (1-12; 13-20; 21-34; 35-46; 47-52; 53-76; 77-87). The whole is in a form of revelation to Baruch, and of his replies, and questions, or of notices about his bearing, fast, prayers, etc. The most interesting parts are in sections 5 and 6. In the former we mark (ch. xlviii. 31-41) the reference to the consequence of the sin of our first parents (v 42; comp. also xvii. 3; xxiii. 4; liv. 15, 19), and in ch. xlix. the discussion and information with what body and in what form the dead shall rise, which is answered, not as by Paul in 1 Co 15 – though the question raised (1Co_15:35) is precisely the same – but in the strictly Rabbinic manner, described by us in Book V, chap. iv. In section 6 we specially mark (ch. lxix.-lxxiv.) the Apocalyptic descriptions of the Last Days, and of the Reign and Judgment of Messiah. In general, the figurative language in that Book is instructive in regard to the phraseology used in the Apocalyptic portions of the New Testament. Lastly, we mark that the views on the consequences of the Fall are much more limited than those expressed in 4 Esdras. Indeed, they do not go beyond physical death as the consequence of the sin of our first parents (see especially 54:19: Non est ergo Adam causa, nisi animae suea tantum; nos vero unusquisque fuit animae suae Adam). At the same time, it seems to us, as if perhaps the reasoning rather than the language of the writer indicated hesitation on his part (liv. 14-19; comp. also first clause of xlviii. 43). It almost seems as if liv. 14-19 were intended as against the reasoning of Paul, Rom_5:12 to the end. In this respect the passage in Baruch is most interesting, not only in itself (see for ex. v 16: Certo enim qui credit recipiet mercedem), but in reference to the teaching of 4 Esdras, which, as regards original sin, takes another direction than Baruch. But I have little doubt that both allude to the – to them – novel teaching of Paul on that doctrine. Lastly, as regards the question when this remarkable work was written, we would place its composition after the destruction of Jerusalem. Most writers date it before the publication of 4 Esdras. Even the appearance of a Pseudo-Baruch and Pseudo-Esdras are significant of the political circumstances and the religious hopes of the nation.

For criticism and fragments of other Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, comp. Fabricius, Codex Pseudepigraphus Vet. Test., 2 vols. (ed. 2, 1722). The Psalter of Sol., 4 Esdr. (or, as he puts it, 4 and 5 Esd.), the Apocal of Baruch, and the Assumption of Mos., have been edited by Fritzsche (Lips. 1871); other Jewish (Hebrew) O.T. Pseudepigraphs – though of a later date – in Jellinek’s Beth haMidrash (6 vols.), passim. A critical review of the literature of the subject would here be out of place.

(See Book I. chap. iv., note ).

In comparing the allegorical Canons of Philo with those of Jewish traditionalism, we think first of all of the seven exegetical Canons which are ascribed to Hillel. These bear chiefly the character of logical deductions, and as such were largely applied in the Halakhah. These seven canons were next expanded by R Ishmael (in the first century) into thirteen, by the analysis of one of them (the 5th) into six, and the addition of this sound exegetical rule, that where two verses seem to be contradictory, their conciliation must be sought in a third passage. The real rules for the Haggadah – if such there were – were the thirty-two canons of R. José the Galilean (in the second century). It is here that we meet so much that is kindred in form to the allegorical canons of Philo. Only they are not rationalising, and far more brilliant in their application. Most taking results – at least to a certain class of minds – might be reached by finding in each consonant of a word the initial letter of another (notariqon). Thus, the word misbeach (altar) was resolved into these four words, beginning respectively with m, s, b, ch: Forgiveness, Merit, Blessing, Life. Then there was gematria, by which every letter in a word was resolved into its arithmetical equivalent. Thus, the two words, Gog and Magog = 70, which was the supposed number of all the heathen nations. Again, in Aṯbash the letters of the Hebrew alphabet were transposed (the first for the last of the alphabet, and so on), so that sheshakh (Jer_25:26; Jer_51:41) became babel, while in Albam, the twenty-two Hebrew letters were divided into two rows, which might be exchanged (L for A, M for B, etc.).

In other respects also the Palestinian had the advantage of the Alexandrian mode of interpretation. There was at least ingenuity, if not always truth, in explaining a word by resolving it into two others, or in discussing the import of exclusive particles (such as ‘only,’ ‘but,’ ‘from’), and inclusives (such as ‘also,’ ‘with,’ ‘all’), or in discovering shades of meaning from the derivation of a word as in the eight synonyms for ‘poor’ – of which one (Ani), indicated simply ‘the poor;’ another (Eḇyon, from aḇah), one who felt both need and desire; a third (misken), one humiliated; a fourth (rash from rush), one who had been emptied of his property; a fifth (dal), one whose property had become exhausted; a sixth (dakh), one who felt broken down; a seventh (makh), one who had come down; and the eighth (ḥelekh), one who was wretched – or in discussing such differences as between amar, to speak gently, and daḇar, to speak strongly – and many others. Here intimate knowledge of the language and tradition might be of real use. At other times striking thoughts were suggested, as when it was pointed out that all mankind was made to spring from one man, in order to show the power of God, since all coins struck from the same machine were precisely the same, while in man, whatever the resemblance, there was still a difference in each.

2. (Book I., chap. iv. And note ) The distinction between the unapproachable God and God as manifest and manifesting Himself, which lies at the foundation of so much in the theology of Philo in regard to the ‘intermediary beings’ – ‘Potencies’ – and the Logos, occurs equally in Rabbinic theology, though there it is probably derived from a different source. Indeed, we regard this as explaining the marked and striking avoidance of all anthropomorphisms in the Targumim. It also accounts for the designation of God by two classes of terms, of which in our view, the first expresses the idea of God as revealed, the other that of God as revealing Himself; or, to put it otherwise, which indicate, the one a state, the other an act on the part of God. The first of these classes of designations embraces two terms: yeqara, the excellent glory, and shekhinah, or shekhinṯa, the abiding Presence. On the other hand, God, as in the act of revealing himself, is described by the term memra, the ‘Logos,’ the Word.’ A distinction of ideas also obtains between the terms yeqara and shekhinah. The former indicates, as we think, the inward and upward, the latter the outward and downward, aspect of the revealed God. This distinction will appear by comparing the use of the two words in the Targumim, and even by the consideration of passages in which the two are placed side by side (as for ex., in the Targum Onkelos on Exo_17:16; Num_14:14; in Pseudo-Jonathan, Gen_16:13, Gen_16:14; in the Jerusalem Targum, Exo_19:18, and in the Targum Jonathan, Isa_6:1, Isa_6:3; Hag_1:8). Thus, also, the allusion in 2Pe_1:17, to ‘the voice from the excellent glory’ (τῆς μεγαλοπρεποῦς δόξης) must have been to the shekhinah. The varied use of the terms shekhinah and shekhinah, and then memra, in the Targum of Isa_6:1-13, is very remarkable. In Isa_6:1 it is the shekhinah and its train – the heavenward glory – which fills the Heavenly Temple. In Isa_6:3 we hear the Trishagion in connection with the dwelling of His shekhinṯa, while the splendour (ziv) of His shekhinah fills the earth – as it were, flows down to it. In Isa_6:5 the prophet dreads, because he had seen the shekhinah of the shekhinah, while in Isa_6:6 the coal is taken from before the Shekhintha (which is) upon the throne of the shekhinah (a remarkable expression, which occurs often; so especially in Exo_17:16). Finally, in Isa_6:8, the prophet hears the voice of the memra of Jehovah speaking the words of Isa_6:9, Isa_6:10. It is intensely interesting to notice that in Joh_12:40, these words are prophetically applied in connection with Christ. Thus John applies to the Logos what the Targum understands of the memra of Jehovah.

But, theologically, by far the most interesting and important point, with reference not only to the Logos of Philo, but to the term Logos as employed in the Fourth Gospel, is to ascertain the precise import of the equivalent expression memra in the Targumim. As stated in the text of this book (Book I., chap. iv. at note ), the term memra as applied to God, occurs 176 times in the Targum Onkelos, 99 times in the Jerusalem Targum, and 321 times in the Targum Pseudo-Jonathan. We subjoin the list of these passages, arranged in three classes. Those in Class I. mark where the term does not apply to this, or where it is at least doubtful; those in Class II. where the fair interpretation of a passage shows; and Class III. where it is undoubted and unquestionable, that the expression memra refers to God as revealing Himself, that is, the Logos.

Classified List of all the Passages in which the term ‘Memra’ occurs in the Targum Onkelos.

(The term occurs 176 times. Class III., which consists of those passages in which the term memra bears undoubted application to the Divine Personality as revealing Himself, comprises 79 passages.)

Class I. Inapplicable or Doubtful: Gen_26:5; Exo_2:25; Exo_5:2; Exo_6:8; Exo_15:8, Ex 10, 26; Exo_16:8; Exo_17:1; Exo_23:21, Exo_23:22; Exo_25:22; Exo_32:13; Lev_18:30; Lev_22:9; Lev_26:14; Lev_26:18; Lev_26:21; Lev_26:27; Num_3:39; Num_3:51; Num_4:37; Num_4:41; Num_4:45; Num_4:49; Num_9:18 (bis), Num_9:19, Num_9:20 (bis), Num_9:23 quat.; Num_10:13; Num_13:3; Num_14:11; Num_14:22; Num_14:30, Num_14:35; Num_20:12; Num_20:24; Num_23:19; Num_24:4; Num_24:16; Num_27:14; Num_33:2; Num_33:38; Num_36:5; Deu_1:26; Deu_4:30; Deu_8:3; Deu_8:20; Deu_13:5; Dt 13:19 (in our Version Deu_13:4; Deu_13:18); Deu_15:5; Deu_26:15; Deu_26:18; Deu_27:10; Deu_28:1, Deu_28:2; Deu_28:15; Deu_28:45; Deu_28:62; Deu_30:2; Deu_30:8; Deu_30:10; Deu_30:20.

An examination of these passages would show that, for caution’s sake, we have sometimes put down as ‘inapplicable’ or ‘doubtful’ what, viewed in connection with other passages in which the word is used, appears scarcely doubtful. It would take too much space to explain why some passages are put in the next class, although the term memra seems to be used in a manner parallel to that in Class I. Lastly, the reason why some passages appear in Class III., when others, somewhat similar, are placed in Class II., must be sought in the context and connection of a verse. We must ask the reader to believe that each passage has been carefully studied by itself, and that our conclusions have been determined by careful consideration, and by the fair meaning to be put on the language of Onkelos.

Class II. Fair: Gen_7:16; Gen_20:3; Gen_31:3; Gen_31:24; Exo_19:5; Lev_8:35; Lev_26:23; Num_11:20; Num_11:23; Num_14:41; Num_22:9; Num_22:18; Num_22:20; Num_23:3, Num_23:4, Num_23:16; Num_27:21; Num_36:2; Deu_1:32; Deu_4:24, Deu_4:33, Deu_4:36; Deu_5:24, Deu_5:25, Deu_5:26; Deu_9:23, (bis); Deu_31:23; Deu_34:5.

Class III. Undoubted: Gen_3:8; Gen_3:10; Gen_6:6 (bis); Gen_6:7; Gen_8:21; Gen_9:12, Gen_9:13, Gen_9:15, Gen_9:16, Gen_9:17; Gen_15:1; Gen_15:6; Gen_17:2; Gen_17:7; Gen_17:10, Gen_17:11; Gen_21:20, Gen_21:22, Gen_21:23; Gen_22:16; Gen_24:3; Gen_26:3; Gen_26:24, Gen_26:28; Gen_28:15; Gen_28:20, Gen_28:21; Gen_31:49, Gen_31:50; Gen_35:3; Gen_39:2, Gen_39:3; Gen_39:21; Gen_39:23; Gen_48:21; Gen_49:24, Gen_49:25; Exo_3:12; Exo_4:12; Exo_4:15; Exo_10:10; Exo_14:31; Exo_15:2; Exo_18:19; Exo_19:17; Exo_29:42, Exo_29:43; Exo_30:6; Exo_31:13; Exo_31:17; Exo_33:22; Lev_20:23; Lev_24:12; Lev_26:9; Lev_26:11; Lev_26:30; Lev_26:46; Num_14:9 (bis); Num_14:43; Nu 17:19 (in our Version Num_17:4); Num_21:5; Num_23:21; Deu_1:30; Deu_2:7; Deu_3:22; Deu_4:37; Deu_5:5; Deu_9:3; Deu_18:16; Deu_18:19; Deu_20:1; Deu_23:15; Deu_31:6; Deu_31:8; Deu_32:51; Deu_33:3; Deu_33:27.

Of most special interest is the rendering of Onkelos of Deu_33:27, where instead of ‘underneath are the everlasting arms,’ Onkelos has it: ‘And by His memra was the world made,’ exactly as in Joh_1:10. This divergence of Onkelos from the Hebrew text is utterly unaccountable, nor has any explanation of it, as far as I know, been attempted. Winer, whose inaugural dissertation ‘De Onkeloso ejusque Paraphrasi Chaldaica’ (Lips. 1820), most modern writers have simply followed (with some amplifications, chiefly from Luzatto’s ‘Philoxenus,’ אהב הגר makes no reference to this passage, nor do his successors, so far as I know. It is curious that, as our present Hebrew text has three words, so has the rendering of Onkelos, and that both end with the same word.

In classifying the passages in which the word memra occurs in the Jerusalem Targum and the Targum Pseudo-Jonathan, we have reversed the previous order, and Class I. represents the passages in which the term undoubtedly applies to Personal manifestation of God; Class II., in which this is the fair interpretation; Class III., in which such application is, to say the most, doubtful.

Classified List of Passages (according to the above scheme) in which the term ‘Memra’ occurs in the Targum Jerushalmi on the Pentateuch.

Class I. Of undoubted application to a Personal Manifestation of God: Gen_1:27; Gen_3:9; Gen_3:22; Gen_5:24; Gen_6:3; Gen_7:16; Gen_15:1; Gen_16:3; Gen_19:24; Gen_21:33; Gen_22:8; Gen_22:14; Gen_28:10; Gen_30:22 (bis); Gen_31:9; Gen_35:9 (quat.); Gen_38:25; Gen_40:23; Exo_3:14; Exo_6:3; Exo_12:42 (quat.); Exo_13:18; Exo_14:15; Exo_14:24, Exo_14:25; Exo_15:12; Exo_15:25 (bis); Exo_19:5; Exo_19:7, Exo_19:8, Exo_19:9 (bis); Exo_20:1; Exo_20:24; Lev_1:1; Num_9:8; Num_10:35, Num_10:36; Num_14:20; Num_21:6; Num_23:8 (bis); Num_24:6; Num_24:23; Num_25:4; Num_27:16; Deu_1:1; Deu_3:2; Deu_4:34; Deu_26:3; Deu_26:14; Deu_26:17, Deu_26:18; Deu_28:27; Deu_28:68; Deu_32:15; Deu_32:39; Deu_32:51; Deu_33:2; Deu_33:7; Deu_34:9, Deu_34:10, Deu_34:11.

Class II. Where such application is fair: Gen_5:24; Gen_21:33; Exo_6:3; Exo_15:1; Lev_1:1; Num_23:15; Num_23:21; Num_24:4; Num_24:16; Deu_32:1; Deu_32:40.

Class III. Where such application is doubtful: Gen_6:6; Gen_18:1; Gen_18:17; Gen_22:14 (bis); Gen_30:22; Gen_40:23; Gen_49:18; Exo_13:19; Exo_15:2; Exo_15:26; Exo_17:16; Exo_19:3; Deu_1:1; Deu_32:18; Deu_34:4, Deu_34:5.

Classified List of Passages in which the term ‘Memra’ occurs in the Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on the Pentateuch.

Class I: Undoubted: Gen_2:8; Gen_3:8; Gen_3:10; Gen_3:24; Gen_4:26; Gen_5:2; Gen_7:16; Gen_9:12, Gen_9:13; Gen_9:15, Gen_9:16, Gen_9:17; Gen_11:8; Gen_12:17; Gen_15:1; Gen_17:2; Gen_17:7; Gen_17:10, Gen_17:11; Gen_18:5; Gen_19:24 (bis); Gen_20:6; Gen_20:18; Gen_21:20; Gen_21:22, Gen_21:23; Gen_21:33; Gen_22:1; Gen_24:1; Gen_24:3; Gen_26:3; Gen_26:24; Gen_26:28; Gen_27:28; Gen_27:31; Gen_28:10; Gen_28:15; Gen_28:20; Gen_29:12; Gen_31:3; Gen_31:50; Gen_35:3; Gen_35:9; Gen_39:2, Gen_39:3; Gen_39:21; Gen_39:23; Gen_41:1; Gen_46:4; Gen_48:9; Gen_48:21; Gen_49:25; Gen_50:20; Exo_1:21; Exo_2:5; Exo_3:12; Exo_7:25; Exo_10:10; Exo_12:23; Exo_12:29; Exo_13:8; Exo_13:15; Exo_13:17; Exo_14:25; Exo_14:31; Exo_15:25; Exo_17:13; Exo_17:15, Exo_17:16 (bis); Exo_18:19; Exo_20:7; Exo_26:28; Exo_29:42, Exo_29:43; Exo_30:6; Exo_30:36; Exo_31:13; Exo_31:17; Exo_32:35; Exo_33:9; Exo_33:19; Exo_34:5; Exo_36:33; Lev_1:1 (bis); Lev_6:2; Lev_8:35; Lev_9:23; Lev_20:23; Lev_24:12 (bis); Lev_26:11, Lev_26:12; Lev_26:30; Lev_26:44; Lev_26:46; Num_3:16; Num_3:39; Num_3:51; Num_4:37; Num_4:41; Num_4:45; Num_4:49; Num_9:18 (bis); Num_9:19, Num_9:20 (bis); Num_9:23 (ter); Num_10:13; Num_10:35, Num_10:36; Num_14:9; Num_14:41; Num_14:43; Num_16:11; Num_16:26; Num_17:4; Num_21:5, Num_21:6; Num_21:8-9; Num_21:34; Num_22:18, Num_22:19; Num_22:28; Num_23:3, Num_23:4; Num_23:8 (bis); Num_23:16; Num_23:20, Num_23:21; Num_24:13; Num_27:16; Num_31:8; Num_33:4; Deu_1:10; Deu_1:30; Deu_1:43; Deu_2:7; Deu_2:21; Deu_3:22; Deu_4:3; Deu_4:7 (bis); Deu_4:20; Deu_4:24; Deu_4:33; Deu_4:36; Deu_5:5 (bis); Deu_5:11; Deu_5:22, Deu_5:23, Deu_5:24 (bis); Deu_5:25, Deu_5:26; Deu_6:13; Deu_6:21, Deu_6:22; Deu_9:3; Deu_11:23; Deu_12:5; Deu_12:11; Deu_18:19; Deu_20:1; Deu_21:20; Deu_24:18, Deu_24:19; Deu_26:5; Deu_26:14; Deu_26:18; Deu_28:7; Deu_28:9; Deu_28:11; Deu_28:13; Deu_28:20, Deu_28:21, Deu_28:22; Deu_28:25; Deu_28:27, Deu_28:28; Deu_28:35; Deu_28:48, Deu_28:49; Deu_28:59; Deu_28:61; Deu_28:63; Deu_28:68; Deu_29:2; Deu_29:4; Deu_30:3, Deu_30:4, Deu_30:5; Deu_30:7; Deu_31:5; Deu_31:8; Deu_31:23; Deu_32:6; Deu_32:9; Deu_32:12; Deu_32:36; Deu_33:29; Deu_34:1; Deu_34:5; Deu_34:10, Deu_34:11.

Class II. Fair: Gen_5:24; Gen_15:6; Gen_16:1; Gen_16:13; Gen_18:17; Gen_22:16; Gen_29:31; Gen_30:22; Gen_46:4; Exo_2:23; Exo_3:8; Exo_3:17; Exo_3:19; Exo_4:12; Exo_6:8; Exo_12:27; Exo_13:5; Exo_13:17; Exo_32:13; Exo_33:12; Exo_33:22; Lev_26:44; Num_14:30; Num_20:12; Num_20:21; Num_22:9; Num_22:20; Num_24:4; Num_24:16; Num_24:23; Deu_8:3; Deu_11:12; Deu_29:23; Deu_31:2; Deu_31:7; Deu_32:18; Deu_32:23; Deu_32:26; Deu_32:38, Deu_32:39; Deu_32:43; Deu_32:48; Deu_32:50, Deu_32:51; Deu_33:3; Deu_33:27; Deu_34:6.

Class III. Doubtful: Gen_6:3; Gen_6:6 (bis); Gen_6:7 (bis); Gen_8:1; Gen_8:21; Gen_22:18; Gen_26:5 (bis); Exo_4:15; Exo_5:2; Exo_9:20, Exo_9:21; Exo_10:29; Exo_14:7; Exo_15:2; Exo_15:8; Exo_16:3; Exo_16:8; Exo_19:5; Exo_25:22; Lev_18:30; Lev_22:9; Lev_26:40; Num_6:27; Num_9:8; Num_12:6; Num_14:11; Num_14:22; Num_14:35; Num_15:34; Num_20:24; Num_23:19; Num_27:14; Num_33:2; Num_33:38; Num_36:5; Deu_1:26; Deu_1:32; Deu_4:30; Deu_5:5; Deu_8:20; Deu_9:23; Deu_11:1; Deu_13:18; Deu_15:5; Deu_19:15; Deu_25:18; Deu_26:17; Deu_27:10; Deu_28:1; Deu_28:15; Deu_28:45; Deu_28:62; Deu_30:2; Deu_30:8, Deu_30:9, Deu_30:10; Deu_31:12; Deu_33:9.

(Book I., chap. iv., note ) Only one illustration of Philo’s peculiar method of interpreting the Old Testament can here be given. It will at the same time show how he found confirmation for his philosophical speculations in the Old Testament, and further illustrate his system of moral theology in its most interesting, but also most difficult point. The question is, how the soul was to pass from its state of sensuousness and sin to one of devotion to reason, which was religion and righteousness. It will be remarked that the change from the one state to the other is said to be accomplished in one of three ways: by study, by practice, or through a good natural disposition (μάθησις, ἄσκησις, εὐφυΐ́α) exactly as Aristotle put it. But Philo found a symbol for each, and for a preparatory stage in each, in Scripture. The three Patriarchs represented this threefold mode of reaching the supersensuous: Abraham, study; Jacob, practice; Isaac, a good disposition; while Enos, Enoch, and Noah, represented the respective preparatory stages. Enos (hope), the first real ancestor of our race, represented the mind awakening to the existence of a better life. Abraham (study) received command to leave ‘the land’ (sensuousness). But all study was threefold. It was, first, physical – Abram in the land of Ur, contemplating the starry sky, but not knowing God. Next to the physical was that ‘intermediate’ (μέση) study, which embraced the ordinary ‘cycle of knowledge’ (ἐγκύκλιος παιδεία). This was Abram after he left Haran, and that knowledge was symbolised by his union with Hagar, who tarried (intermediately) between Kadesh and Bered. But this stage also was insufficient, and the soul must reach the third and highest stage, that of Divine philosophy (truly, the love of wisdom, φιλοσοφία) where eternal truth was the subject of contemplation. Accordingly, Abram left Lot, he became Abraham, and he was truly united to Sarah, no longer Sarai. Onwards and ever upwards would the soul now rise to the knowledge of virtue, of heavenly realities, nay, of the nature of God Himself.

But there was yet another method than ‘study,’ by which the soul might rise – that of askesis, discipline, practice, of which Scripture speaks in Enoch and Jacob. Enoch – whom ‘God took, and he was not’ (Gen_5:24) – meant the soul turning from the lower to the higher, so that it was no longer found in its former place of evil. From Enoch, as the preparatory stage, we advance to Jacob, first merely fleeing from sensuous entanglements (from Laban), then contending with the affections, ridding himself of five of the seventy-five souls with which he had entered Egypt (Deu_10:22, comp. with Gen_46:27), often nearly misled by the Sophists (Dinah and Hamor), often nearly failing and faint in the conflict (Jacob’s wrestling), but holpen by God, and finally victorious, when Jacob became Israel.

But the highest of all was that spiritual life which came neither from study nor discipline, but through a good natural disposition. Here we have, first of all, Noah, who symbolises only the commencement of virtue, since we read not of any special virtue in him. Rather is he rest – as the name implies – good, relatively to those around. It was otherwise with Isaac, who was perfect before his birth (and hence chosen), even as Rebekah meant constancy in virtue. In that state the soul enjoyed true rest (the Sabbath, Jerusalem) and joy, which Isaac’s name implied. But true virtue, which was also true wisdom, was Paradise, whence issued the one stream (goodness), which again divided into four branches (the four Stoic virtues): – Pison, ‘prudence’ (φρόνησις); Gihon, ‘fortitude’ (ἀνδρία); Tigris, ‘desire’ (ἐπιθυμία), and Euphrates, ‘justice’ (δικαιοσύνη). And yet, though these be the Stoic virtues, they all spring from Paradise, the Garden of God – and all that is good, and all help to it, comes to us ultimately from God Himself, and is in God.

(See Book I. chap. vii., note )

On this point, especially as regarded images, statues, and coins, the views of the Rabbis underwent (as stated in the text) changes and modifications according to the outward circumstances of the people. The earlier and strictest opinions, which absolutely forbade any representation, were relaxed in the Mishnah, and still further in the Talmud.

In tracing this development, we mark as a first stage that a distinction was made between having such pictorial representations and making use of them, in the sense of selling or bartering them; and again between making and finding them. The Mishnah forbids only such representations of human beings as carry in their hand some symbol of power, such as a staff, bird, globe, or, as the Talmud adds, a sword, or even a signet-ring (Ab. Z. iii. 1). The Commentaries explain that this must refer to the making use of them, since their possession was, at any rate, prohibited. The Talmud adds (Ab. Z. 40b, 41a) that these were generally representations of kings, that they were used for purposes of worship, and that their prohibition applied only to villages, not to towns, where they were used for ornament. Similarly the Mishnah directs that everything bearing a representation of sun or moon, or of a dragon, was to be thrown into the Dead Sea (Ab. Z. iii. 3). On the other hand, the Talmud quotes (Ab. Z. 42b) a proposition (boraita), to the effect that all representations of the planets were allowed, except those of the sun and moon, likewise all statues except those of man, and all pictures except those of a dragon, the discussion leading to the conclusion that in two, if not in all the cases mentioned, the Talmudic directions refer to finding, not making such. So stringent, indeed, was the law as regarded signet-rings, that it was forbidden to have raised work on them, and only such figures were allowed as were sunk beneath the surface, although even then they were not to be used for sealing (Ab. Z. 43b). But this already marks a concession, accorded apparently to a celebrated Rabbi, who had such a ring. Still further in the same direction is the excuse, framed at a later period, for the Rabbis who worshipped in a Synagogue that had a statue of a king, to the effect that they could not be suspected of idolatry, since the place, and hence their conduct, was under the inspection of all men. This more liberal tendency had, indeed, appeared at a much earlier period, in the case of the Nasi Gamaliel II., who made use of a public bath at Acco in which there was a statue of Aphrodite. The Mishnah (Ab. Z. iii. 4) puts this twofold plea into his mouth, that he had not gone into the domain of the idol, but the idol came into his, and that the statue was there for ornament, not for worship. The Talmud endorses, indeed, these arguments, but in a manner showing that the conduct of the great Gamaliel was not really approved of (Ab. Z. 44b). But a statue used for idolatrous purposes was not only to be pulverized, but the dust cast to the winds or into the sea, lest it might possibly serve as manure to the soil! (Ab. Z. iii. 3.) This may explain how Josephus ventured even to blame King Solomon for the figures on the brazen sea and on his throne (Ant. viii. 7. 5), and how he could excite a fanatical rabble at Tiberias to destroy the palace of Herod Antipas because it contained ‘figures of living creatures.’ (Life 12).