Chapter XXIV: Section VI: Jesus Christ (4)

Sentenced to death, Jesus was now scourged; a purple robe was put upon him, and a crown of thorns about his head (not upon it as was afterwards said): he was saluted in mockery as king of the Jews, and smitten with a reed upon the head. After this cruel ceremony he was led out to Golgotha to be crucified, a man named Simon being compelled to bear his cross (Mk. xv. 15-21; Mt. xxvii. 26-32; Lu. xxiii. 24-26; Jo. xix. 1-16). Luke is singular in the introduction of a large company of women who follow Jesus to the crucifixion and draw from him a prophecy of terrible evils to come upon them and their children; for themselves, and not for him, they were to weep (Lu. xxiii. 27-31). The other versions say nothing of any friends or followers, male or female, as being present at this period, though they do mention many women as looking on from a distance during the crucifixion. These, however, were not daughters of Jerusalem (like the women in Luke), but Galilean admirers who had followed him to the capital. His mother was certainly not among them, or she could not fail to have been mentioned in the synoptical Gospels; whereas the only names we meet with are those of Mary Magdalene; Mary, mother of James and Joses; and Salome, apparently the same person as the mother of Zebedee's children (Mk. xv. 40, 41; Mt. xxvii. 55, 56).

These were among the spectators of the melancholy end of him who had been their teacher and their friend. He was crucified between two criminals, with an inscription on his cross which is differently reported in every Gospel, but of which the substance was that he was the king of the Jews. A stupifying drink which Matthew (in accordance with a supposed prophecy) (Ps. lxix. 21) calls vinegar and gall, was offered him by the executioners; not as Luke supposes, in mockery, but with the humane intention of allaying the pain. His clothes were divided among the party of soldiers; a circumstance in which the Evangelists as usual endeavor to see the fulfillment of prophecy. In Psalm xxii. 18, we read: "They part my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture." The Synoptics content themselves here with stating that the soldiers drew lots for his clothing, but John anxious to fulfill this prophecy in the most literal manner possible, pretends that they divided the articles of his apparel into four parts, but finding the coat without seam, agreed not to tear it, but to apportion it by lot. Luke is the sole reporter of a saying of Jesus uttered in his last moments: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do" (Mk. xv. 23-28; Mt. xxvii. 34-38; Lu. xxiii. 32-34, 36; Jo. xix. 17-24).

The pangs of death must have been greatly embittered to Jesus if it be true that not only the priests and passers by, but the very criminals who were crucified with him, ridiculed his claim to be king of Israel, and suggested that he should prove it to demonstration by saving himself from the cross. All the synoptical Gospels agree in this account, with the single exception that Luke includes only one of the malefactors among the scorners. According to this Gospel, the other rebuked his fellow-convict for his misbehavior, and addressed to him a few moral remarks; which, however, were perhaps not quite disinterested, for at its close he requested Jesus to remember him in his kingdom, and received an ample reward in the shape of a promise from the latter that he should be with him that day in Paradise. But where was the impenitent criminal to be? About his fate there is an ominous obscurity, and it evidently did not occur to the writer that the forgiveness which Jesus had just been praying his Father to grant his enemies, he might himself have extended to this miserable man (Mk. xv. 29-32; Mt. xxvii. 39-44; Lu. xxiii. 35-43).

Another incident of the closing hours of Jesus is known to the fourth Evangelist alone. According to the others, the women who watched him expire were standing far off. But according to John, his mother Mary, her sister, and Magdalene were all at the foot of the cross. There also was the disciple whom Jesus loved, and who in the three other Gospels had run away. Before he died, Jesus committed his mother to the care of this disciple as to a son, and he afterwards took her home. The dogmatic purpose of this story is evident. Mary had not been converted by her son during his life-time, and it was important to bring her to the foot of the cross at his death, and to place her in this close connection with one of his principal disciples (Jo. xix. 25-27).

As to the last words of Jesus, there is an amount of divergence which shows that no account can be regarded as trustworthy. Mark and Matthew both relate that he called out, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?" an exclamation which he may really have uttered, or which, as coming from a prophetic Psalm, may have seemed to them appropriate. Hereupon a sponge of vinegar was offered him under the impression that he was calling Elias, and with a loud cry he gave up the ghost. In Luke he cries loudly, and then says, "Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit." With these words (also from one of the Psalms) upon his lips, he dies. In John he says, "I am thirsty:" and after receiving some vinegar, adds, "It is finished;" and bowing his head, gives up the ghost (Mk. xv. 34-37; Mt. xxvii. 46-50; Lu. xxiii. 46; Jo. xix. 28-30).

With the death of Christ, and indeed immediately before it, we pass from the region of mixed history and mythology into that of pure mythology. With the exception of his burial, all that follows has been deliberately invented. The wonders attendant upon his closing hours belong in part to the typical order of myths, and in part to an order peculiar to himself. The darkness from the sixth to the ninth hour, the rending of the temple veil, the earthquake, the rending of the rocks, are altogether like the prodigies attending the decease of other great men. The centurion's exclamation, "Truly this man was just," or "Truly this man was the son of God" (it is differently reported), is a myth belonging peculiarly to Christ, and designed to exhibit the enforced confession of his greatness by an incredulous Roman. In Matthew, where the more modest narratives of Mark and Luke are greatly improved upon by additional details, it is further added that many bodies of saints arose, and after the resurrection appeared to many in Jerusalem (Mk. xv. 33-39; Mt. xxvii. 45, and 51-54; Lu. xxiii. 44-47).

John, who knows nothing whatever of the darkness, the accident to the temple veil, the revival of the saints, or the centurion's exclamation, has a myth of his own constructed for the especial purpose of fulfilling certain prophecies. The next day being a festival, the Jews, he says, were anxious that the bodies should not remain on the crosses. They therefore requested Pilate to break their legs and remove them. He ordered this to be done, and the legs of the two criminals were broken, but not those of Jesus, who was already dead; one of the soldiers, however, pierced his side, from which blood and water gushed out. The writer adds a strong asseveration of his veracity, but immediately betrays himself by letting out that in relating the omission to break the legs of Jesus he was comparing him to the Paschal lamb, of whom not a bone was to be broken; while in telling of the soldier who pierced his side, he was thinking of a phrase in Zechariah: "They shall look upon me whom they have pierced" (Zech. xii. 10; Jo. xix. 31-37).

The burial of the body took place quietly. Joseph of Arimathæa, a secret admirer of Jesus, placed it in a new sepulchre of his own. With him John associates a character who exists only in his Gospel, Nicodemus, and whom he introduces here as taking some part in the interment. To the circumstance of the burial in the rock sepulchre, Matthew adds an audacious fiction of his own; namely, that the chief priests, remembering Christ's prediction that he should rise on the third day, obtained leave to seal the stone of the tomb and keep it watched, lest the disciples should take the body by night and pretend that he was risen (Mk. xv. 42-47; Mt. xxvii. 57-66; Lu. xxiii. 50-56; Jo. xix. 38-42).

Certainly if the Evangelist had meant to convey the impression that no human means could prevent the resurrection of Christ, he would have been perfectly right. An actual body was not necessary for the purpose. For the legends appertaining to the resurrection belong to a region in which imagination, unhampered by the controlling influence of historical fact, has been permitted the freest play. Of the appearances of Jesus after his death we have accounts by no less than seven different hands, each story being distinct from, though not always inconsistent with, the other six. Let us begin with what is probably the oldest of all, containing but a germ of the rest; the first eight verses of the last chapter of Mark. There we are told that on the day after the Sabbath, Mary Magdalene, Mary James's mother, and Salome went to the sepulchre at sunrise. They found it empty, the stone having been rolled away. A young man in white clothes was sitting in it. He told them that Jesus was risen, and desired them to tell the disciples that he was going to Galilee, where they would see him. All that follows in this Gospel is added by a later hand, and the very first verse of the addition is plainly written in total disregard of what has just preceded it. Observe then that _the simplest form of the story of the resurrection contains no mention of any actual appearance of Jesus whatever_, but merely an assertion that the body was not in the tomb, and that a man, sitting inside it, made certain statements to three women. To this the forger has added that Jesus appeared first to Magdalene, whose account, given to the disciples, was disbelieved by them; secondly, to two disciples while walking, whose evidence was also disbelieved; thirdly, to the eleven at dinner, to whom he addressed a discourse (Mk. xvi.).

The writer of the first Gospel is much more elaborate. He was a little embarrassed by the guards whom he had set to watch the tomb, whom it was essential to find some convenient method of getting out of the way. Like Mark, he takes the two Marys (not Salome) to the sepulchre early on the first day of the week; unlike Mark, he does not make them examine the tomb and find it deserted. On the contrary, there is an earthquake (the author is rather fond of these natural convulsions), and an angel with a face like lightning, clothed in the purest white, descends. He rolls back the stone and sits upon it. His appearance so terrifies the keepers that they become like corpses. The angel tells the women that Jesus is risen, and that they are to let the disciples know that he would go before them to Galilee, where they would see him. As they are engaged on this errand, Jesus himself appears and gives them a similar injunction. The second appearance occurred before the eleven disciples, who saw him at an appointed place in Galilee, "but some doubted." Here Jesus addressed to them a parting discourse, and this Gospel does not state how or when he quitted them. The awkward circumstance of the presence of the guards, who had certainly not testified to the angel's descent, had still to be surmounted. This is accomplished by a ridiculous story that they had been heavily bribed by the priests and elders to say that the disciples had stolen the body while they were asleep (Mt. xxviii).

Unlike either of the preceding writers, Luke conceives the first appearance of the risen Christ to have been, not to the women, but to two disciples. He does indeed relate that on the morning of the first day of the week Magdalene, Mary, Joanna, and other women went to the tomb, and found the stone rolled away and the body gone. While they were wondering at this, two men in shining garments stood by them, and told them that he whom they sought was risen. They returned to report to the apostles, to whom their words seemed as idle tales. Peter, however, ran to the sepulchre to verify their statement, and found only the clothes in it. Two of the disciples were going that same day to Emmaus. While walking and talking, a stranger joined them and entered into a conversation, in which he expounded the prophecies relating to the Messiah. They requested this man to remain with them for the night at the house where they were lodging. During supper he took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them; whereupon they recognized him as Jesus, and he vanished from their eyes. On returning to Jerusalem, they found the eleven and the rest asserting that Christ was risen and had appeared to Peter. The two wanderers related their experiences in their turn. While the disciples were talking, Jesus himself appeared in their midst, and said, "Peace unto you." Some skeptical doubts, however, troubled them even now, for Jesus thought it necessary to prove his actual carnality by showing his hands and feet, as well as by eating some broiled fish and a piece of honeycomb. After this he "opened their understanding," by an expository discourse in reference to some of his own sayings and to the Scriptures; concluding with an exhortation to remain at Jerusalem till they were endowed with power from on high (Lu. xxii. 1-49). This last passage is explained by the same author in the Acts of the Apostles to refer to the descent of the Holy Ghost upon the apostles, which in that work is much more definitely promised by Jesus (Acts i. 5, 8). We also find in it an important addition to the details furnished by the Gospel about the resurrection; namely, that Jesus was seen by his disciples for forty days after his physical death, during which time he kept speaking to them about matters pertaining to the kingdom of God (Acts i. 3).

Directly contradicting Mark and Matthew, John states that Magdalene (no one else is mentioned) went to the sepulchre while it was still dark (not at dawn or sunrise), and found the stone taken away. Making no further inspection, she ran to Peter and to the beloved disciple, saying that the body had been abstracted. The two ran together to the place, and going in, found the clothes lying in the tomb, whereupon the beloved disciple "saw and believed," though what he believed is not stated. Magdalene was standing outside; but after the two men had concluded their examination she entered, and saw what they had not seen—two angels, sitting one at each end of the place where the body had been. These angels asked her why she was weeping; she answered, because her Lord's body had been taken. Turning round, she saw a man whom she at first took for the gardener, but whom she soon recognized as Jesus. She returned and informed the disciples that she had seen him. The same day, in the evening, Jesus appeared to the disciples, said, "Peace unto you," and showed them his hands and feet. He then breathed the Holy Ghost into them, and gave them authority to remit or retain sins. Thomas, who was not present on this occasion, roundly refused to believe these facts unless he himself could touch the marks of the nails, and put his hand into the side. A week later Jesus again appeared, and Thomas was now enabled to dispel his doubts by actual examination of his person. To these three appearances, with which the genuine Gospel closed, a later hand has added a fourth. According to this new writer, a number of disciples were about to fish on the lake of Tiberias, when Christ was observed standing on the shore. The miraculous draught of fishes is introduced here in a form slightly different from that which it has in Luke. By acting on a direction from Jesus, the disciples caught a vast number. He then bade them come and dine with him, which they did. After dinner, he instructed Peter to feed his flock, and hinted that the beloved disciple might possibly live till his return in glory (Jo. xx., xxi.).

Completely different from any of these narratives is the account of the resurrection contributed by Paul. It is somewhat confused and difficult to understand. Christ, he says, rose on the third day according to the Scriptures, and was seen by Cephas; then by the twelve; after that by more than five hundred brethren; after that by James; next by all the apostles; and lastly by himself (1 Cor. xv. 3-8). It is to be noted that since Paul does not say that Christ appeared _first_ to Cephas, we may if we please combine with this account one of those which make him appear first to Magdalene, or to her and other women. But even then the difficulties do not disappear. For how could so notorious an event as the manifestation of Christ to five hundred people be passed over _sub silentio_ in all the Gospels and in the Acts? And granting that Paul may by an oversight have put "the twelve" for "the eleven," are we not compelled to suppose that "all the apostles" are distinct from "the twelve," and if so, who are they? What, again, are we to think of the appearance to James, of which nothing is said elsewhere? Above all, what are we to think of the fact that the purely spiritual vision granted to Paul, which was not even seen by his traveling companions, is placed by him exactly on a level with all the other reappearances of Christ, the physical reality of which so much trouble has been taken to prove?

Comparing now the several narratives of the resurrection with one another, we find this general result. In Mark, Jesus is said to have appeared three times:—

1. To Mary Magdalene.
2. To two disciples.
3. To the disciples at meat.

Two such appearances only are recorded in Matthew:—

1. To the women.
2. To the eleven in Galilee.

In Luke he appears:—

1. To Cleopas and his companion.
2. To Peter.
3. To the eleven and others.

In the two last chapters of John the appearances amount to four:—

1. To Mary Magdalene.
2. To the disciples without Thomas.
3. To the disciples with Thomas.
4. To several disciples on the Tiberias lake.

Paul extends them to six:—

1. To Peter.
2. To the twelve.
3. To more than 500.
4. To James.
5. To all the apostles.
6. To Paul.

Upon this most momentous question, then, every one of the Christian writers is at variance with every other. Nor is this all, for two of the number bring the earthly career of Jesus to its final close in a manner so extraordinary that we cannot even imagine the occurrence of such an event, of necessity so notorious and so impressive, to have been believed by the other biographers, and yet to have been passed over by them without a word of notice or allusion. Can it be for a moment supposed that two out of the four Evangelists had heard of the ascension of Christ—that the most wonderful termination of a wonderful life—and either forgot to mention, or deliberately omitted it? And may it not be assumed that Paul, when detailing the several occasions on which Christ had been seen after his crucifixion, must needs, had he known of it, have included this, perhaps the most striking of all, in his list? In fact the ascension rests entirely on the evidence of two witnesses, both of them comparatively late ones, the forger of the last verses of Mark, and the third Evangelist. Neither of them stand as near the events described as the true author of Mark, as Matthew, or as Paul, from no one of whom do we hear a word of the ascension. Nor do even these two witnesses relate their story in the same terms. The finisher of Mark merely tells us that after his parting charge to the eleven, he was received into heaven and sat at God's right hand; a statement couched in such general terms as even to leave it doubtful whether there was any distinct and visible ascension, or whether Jesus was merely taken to heaven like any other virtuous man, though enjoying when there a higher precedence (Mk. xvi. 19). Especially is this doubt fostered by the fact that this Gospel, when speaking of the witnesses to Christ's resurrection, never alludes to any of the physical proofs of his actual existence so much dwelt upon in Luke and the last chapter of John. Very much more definite is the statement at the close of the third Gospel. There it is related that Jesus led his disciples out to Bethany, where he blessed them and that, in the very act of blessing, he was parted from them and carried up into heaven (Lu. xxiv. 50, 51). The same author subsequently composed the Acts of the Apostles, and in the interim he had greatly improved upon his previous conception of the ascension. When he came to write the Acts, he was able to supply, what he had omitted before, the last conversation of the master with the disciples he was about to leave; he knows too that after the final words—no blessing is mentioned here—he was taken up and received by a cloud; that while the disciples were gazing up, two men in white—no doubt the very couple who had been seen at the sepulchre— were perceived standing by them, and that these celestial visitors told them that Jesus would return from heaven in the same way in which he had gone to it (Acts i. 9-11). Unhappy Galileans! little could they have dreamt for how many centuries after that day their successors would watch and wait, watching and waiting in vain, for the fulfillment of that consoling prophecy.

Casting a retrospective glance at the stories of the Resurrection and the Ascension, we may perhaps discern at least a psychological explanation of their origin and of the currency they obtained. Whatever other qualities Jesus may have possessed or lacked, there can be no question that he had one—that of inspiring in others a strong attachment to himself. He had in his brief career surrounded himself with devoted disciples; and he was taken from their midst in the full bloom of his powers by a violent and early death. Now there are some who have been taught by the bitter experience of their lives how difficult, nay, how impossible it is to realize in imagination the fact that a beloved companion is in truth gone from them forever. More especially will this mental difficulty be felt when he whom death has parted from our sides is young, vigorous, full of promise; when the infinite stillness of eternal rest has succeeded almost without a break upon the joyous activity of a well-spent life; when the being who is now no more was but a moment ago the moving spirit of a household, or the honored teacher of a band of friends who were linked together by his presence.

Where the association has been close and constant; where we have been accustomed to share our thoughts and to impart our feelings; where, therefore, we have habitually entwined not only our present lives, but our hopes and wishes for the future around the personality of the dead, this refusal of the mind to comprehend its loss is strongest of all. Emotion enters then upon a strange conflict with Reason. Reason may tell us but too distinctly that all hope of the return of the beloved one to life is vain and foolish. But Emotion speaks to us in another language. Well nigh does it prevent us from believing even the ghastly realities which our unhappy eyes have been compelled to witness. Deep within us there arises the craving for the presence of our friend, and with it the irrepressible thought that he may even yet come back to those who can scarcely bear to live without him. Were these inevitable longings not to be checked by a clear perception that they originate in our own broken hearts, we should fancy that we saw the figure of the departed and heard his voice. In that case a resurrection would have taken place for us, and for those who believed our tale. So far from the reappearance of the well-known form seeming to be strange, it is its failure to reappear that is strange to us in these times of sorrow. We fondly conceive that in some way the dead must still exist; and if so, can one, who was so tender before, listen to our cry of pain and refuse to come? can one, who soothed us in the lesser troubles of our lives, look on while we are suffering the greatest agony of all and fail to comfort? It cannot be. Imagination declines to picture the long future of solitude that lies before us. We cannot understand that we shall never again listen to the tones of the familiar voice; never feel the touch of the gentle hand; never be encouraged by the warm embrace that tells us we are loved, or find a refuge from miserable thoughts and the vexations of the world in the affectionate and ever-open heart. All this is too hard for us. We long for a resurrection; we should believe in it if we could; we do believe in it in sleep, when our feelings are free to roam at pleasure, unrestrained by the chilling presence of the material world. In dreams the old life is repeated again and again. Sometimes the lost one is beside us as of old, and we are quite untroubled by the thought of parting. Sometimes there is a strange and confusing consciousness that the great calamity has happened, or has been thought to happen, but that now we are again together, and that a new life has succeeded upon death. Or the dream takes a less definite form. We are united now; but along with our happiness in the union there is an oppressive sense of some mysterious terror clouding our enjoyment. We are afraid that it is an unsubstantial, shadowy being that is with us; the least touch may dissipate its uncertain existence; the slightest illness may extinguish its feeble breath. Granting only a strong emotion and a lively phantasy, we may comprehend at once how, in many lands, to many mourners, the images of their dreams may also become the visions of their waking hours. They see him again; they know that he is not gone; he is beside them still.

But for us, who live in a calmer age, and see with scientific eyes, there is no such comfort. Not to us can the bodily forms of those who have gone before us to the grave appear again in all the loveliness of life. In the first shock of our bereavement we may indeed indulge in some such visionary hope; but as day after day passes by and leaves us in a solitude that does but deepen with the lapse of time, we learn to understand only too well that we are bereft forever. Hope gradually dwindling to a fainter and fainter remnant, is crushed at last by the miserable certainty of profound despair. Yet even then, the mind of man refuses to accept its fate. The scene of the reunion, which we cannot but so ardently desire, is postponed to another season and to a better world. Many are they to whom this final hope is an enduring consolation, but if even that should fail us in the hour of darkness, as the more primitive and simpler hope failed before it; if here again emotion is reluctantly compelled to yield to reason; then there is still one refuge in despondency, and a refuge of which we can never be deprived. It is the thought that death, so cruel now, will one day visit us with a kinder touch; and that the tomb, which already holds the nearest and the dearest within its grasp, will open to receive us also in our turn to its everlasting peace.

SUBDIVISION 3.—_The Ideal Jesus._

The Gospel attributed by the current legend to St. John differs from the other three Gospels in almost every respect in which difference is possible. The events recorded are different. The order of events is different. The conversations of Jesus are different. His sermons are different. His opinions are different. The theories of the writer about him are different. Were it not for the name and a few leading incidents, we should be compelled to say that the subject of the biography himself is different. A more conspicuous unlikeness than that of the synoptical to the Johannine Jesus it is not easy to conceive in two narratives which depict the same hero. In the synoptical Gospels Jesus is plain, direct, easy of comprehension, and fond of illustrating his meaning by short and simple parables. In John he is obscure, mystical, symbolic, and of his favorite method of teaching by parables there is not a trace. Both descriptions cannot be true. It would be monstrous to suppose either that the synoptical Gospels omitted some of his most extraordinary miracles and some of his most remarkable discourses, or that the Gospel of John passed over in silence the whole of that side of his character which is portrayed in the ethical maxims, the parables, and the exhortations of its predecessors. Were it so, none of the four could be accepted as other than an extremely one-sided and imperfect biography, and each of them is plainly regarded by its author as complete within itself. None of them refers to extraneous sources to supplement its own deficiencies. The concluding verse of the fourth Gospel does indeed allude to many unrecorded actions of Jesus, which, if they were all written, would fill more books than the world could contain. But, not to rely on the fact that the last chapter is spurious, these words contain no intimation that a mode of teaching completely different from that here recorded was ever employed by Jesus. And this is the point in which John's narrative is peculiar. Again, to turn to the Synoptics, there is no shadow of an intimation in them that, between the last supper and arrest, Jesus addressed to his disciples a long and remarkable discourse, full of the most interesting revelations. Can we suppose that they could have forgotten it, delivered as it was at such a moment as this, the very last before their master's condemnation at which he was able to speak to them? Such a supposition is utterly untenable. The two traditions embodied in these versions of his life do not therefore, as some learned men—Ewald, for example—have supposed, supplement, but exclude one another.

Let us enter into detail into some of the peculiar characteristics of the Jesus of John. In the first place, we may note that his miracles are altogether new. One of them at least is so astounding that no biographer who had heard of it could have passed it by. The raising of Lazarus is the greatest feat that Jesus ever performed. In other cases he brought persons who were supposed to be just dead to life, but skeptical Jews might have suspected that they had never in reality died at all. Ample precautions against such cavils were taken in the case of Lazarus. This man lived at Bethany, and his sisters, Mary and Martha, were devoted admirers of Jesus. These women sent word to Jesus, who had retired "beyond Jordan," to say that their brother was ill. He replied that this illness was for the glory of God. After he had heard of it he remained two days in the same place. Then, disregarding the dissuasions of the disciples, who reminded him that the Jews had recently sought to stone him, he proceeded towards Judea. He informed them in that obscure manner which he almost invariably affects in this Gospel, that Lazarus was asleep; but on their misunderstanding him, consented to speak plainly and say that he was dead. He added that for their sakes he was glad he had not been there, in order that they might believe—even the disciples' faith being apparently still in need of confirmation. On reaching Bethany, he found that Lazarus had been buried four days. Martha, who came to meet him, observed that had he been there, her brother would not have died, and that even now whatever he asked of God would be given. Jesus told her that her brother would rise again; a saying which she interpreted as referring to the general resurrection; but he replied that whoever believed in him would never die, and required of her an explicit declaration of her faith in this dogma. Martha evaded the inquiry by a profession of her conviction that he was the Christ and went to summon Mary. She too remarked that if he had been there Lazarus would not have died. Distressed by her distress, Jesus himself wept. Going to the grave, he ordered the stone which covered it to be removed, in spite of Martha's objection that putrefaction had set in. A curious scene followed. "Jesus lifted up his eyes and said, 'Father, I thank thee that thou hast heard me. And I know that thou hearest me always, but because of the people which stand by I said it, that they may believe that thou hast sent me.'" We must suppose these last words to have been spoken _sotto voce_, for "the people which stood by" would have been little likely to believe in him had they known that the thanksgiving to God was a mere pious pretence, offered up for the purpose of impressing their imaginations by the event that was to follow. Knowing that his father always heard him, he certainly had no occasion to thank him on this one occasion; if indeed he could properly be thanked at all for taking the necessary measures to ensure the credit of his own son, in whom he desired mankind to believe, and who is over and over again described as one with himself. This is perhaps the only instance in any of the Gospels in which something like hypocrisy is ascribed to Jesus; in which he is represented as consciously acting a part for the benefit of the bystanders, and speaking simply with a view to effect. Happily for his reputation we are not obliged to believe in the accuracy of his biographer. After this he called loudly, "Lazarus, come forth." The dead man accordingly arose, and came forth from the tomb clad in his grave-clothes (Jo. xi. 1-46). His restoration to life was permanent, for we find him afterwards among the guests at a supper to which Jesus was invited (Jo. xii. 2).

Another singular miracle to which there is no allusion in any other Gospel is that which is here declared to be the first; the conversion of water into wine. Jesus was at a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and when the wine provided for the entertainment had all been consumed, his mother informed him of the state of things. He gave her a repelling answer; but she told the servants to do what he bade them. He then ordered six waterpots to be filled with water, and the contents to be drawn. It was found that they contained wine of a superior quality to that at first provided (Jo. ii. 1-11).

The second miracle according to John is not unlike some of those recorded elsewhere. It consisted in the cure by a mere word, without visiting the place, of a nobleman's son who was on the point of death. This time also Jesus was at Cana, though the patient lay at Capernaum (Jo. iii. 46-54). Another cure was wrought at the pool of Bethesda, the healing virtues of which are known only to this Gospel. A man who had long been lying on its steps, too infirm to descend at the proper moment, was enjoined to rise and walk, which he did (Jo. v. 1-9). It is singular that although "a great multitude of impotent folk" were waiting at the pool, many of whom must needs have been kept long, since only one could be cured each time the water was troubled, this man alone was selected for the object of a miracle. Why were not all of them healed at once?

Not only are the most wonderful proofs of Christ's divinity contained in this Gospel unknown to the rest, but its _dramatis personæ_ are in several respects altogether novel. Nathanael, whose difficulties about thinking that any good thing can come from Nazareth are overcome in a conversation with Jesus (Jo. i. 45-51); Nicodemus, the secret adherent who came by night and received instruction in the doctrine of regeneration (Jo. iii. 1-21), who at a later period supported him against the attacks of the Pharisees (Jo. vii. 51), and lastly brought spices to his interment (Jo. xix. 39); Lazarus, brother of Mary and Martha, who owed him his life (Jo. xi. 44; xii. 2); the woman of Sâmaria, to whom an important prophecy was made, and whose past life he knew by intuition (Jo. iv. 1-30); are all new personages, and they hold no mean place in the story. The immediate attendants on his person are no doubt the same; but the representation that there was one disciple "whom Jesus loved" above the rest, and to whom a greater intimacy was permitted (Jo. xiii. 23), is uncountenanced by anything in the other Gospels; and indicates a fixed purpose of exalting the apostle John above his compeers.

While the scene, the persons, and the plot are thus diverse, the style of the principal actor is in striking contrast to that which he employs elsewhere. Its most conspicuous characteristic is the continual recurrence to symbols. It is true that in the other Gospels Jesus frequently exchanges the direct explanation of his views for the indirect method of illustration. But an illustration serves to clear up the meaning of a speaker, a symbol to disguise it. Illustrations cast light upon the principal thesis; symbols merely darken it. And this is the difference between the synoptical and the Johannine Jesus. The one is anxious to be understood; the other, in appearance at least, is seeking to perplex. Hence the exchange of the parable for the symbol. The number of such symbols in John is considerable. Jesus is continually inventing new ones. Near the beginning of the Gospel, he explains to Nicodemus that it is needful to be born again; a statement by which Nicodemus is considerably perplexed (Jo. iii. 3, 4). But his symbols are more generally applied to himself or his relations to the Father. He is the bread of life or the bread of God (Jo. vi. 33-48); again, he is the living water (Jo. iv. 10), or he gives a water which prevents all future thirst (Jo. iv. 14); he is the true vine, his Father the husbandman, and his disciples the branches (Jo. xv. 1-5); elsewhere he is both the good shepherd and the door by which the sheep enter the fold (Jo. x. 7-16); he is the way, the truth, and the life (Jo. xiv. 6); he is the light that came into the world (Jo. xii. 46; iii. 19); or he is the Resurrection and the Life (Jo. xi. 25). John the Baptist, also, unlike the John of the other Gospels, adopts the same manner. Christ is spoken of by him as the Lamb of God, which takes away the sins of the world (Jo. i. 29); or as the Bridegroom whose voice he rejoiced to hear, while he himself was but the Bridegroom's friend (Jo. iii. 29). Sometimes "the Jews," as they are termed in this Gospel, are puzzled by the enigmatical style of Jesus, the sense of which they cannot unriddle. Thus, when he tells them that if they destroy the temple he will rebuild it in three days, they are naturally unable to perceive that he is speaking of the temple of his body (Jo. ii. 19-21). They murmured because he spoke of himself as the Bread that came down from heaven, nor was any explanation offered them beyond a reiteration of the same statement (Jo. vi. 41-51). Not only the Jews, but also many of his own partisans, were hopelessly perplexed by the statement that no one could have life in him who did not eat his flesh and drink his blood (Jo. vi. 53, 60), a statement which differs materially from that made at the passover (in the other Gospels), where the bread and wine were actually offered as signs of his flesh and blood, and the apostles alone (who were present) were required to receive them. At other times he confused them by mysterious intimations that he was going somewhere whither they could not come, and that they should seek him and be unable to find him (Jo. vii. 33-36; viii. 21, 22). On one occasion, his auditors were unable to comprehend his assertion that he must be lifted up, and requested him to explain it. The only reply was another enigma, namely, that the light was with them but a little while, and that they should believe in it while they had it (Jo. xii. 32-36). To such language they might well have retorted, that what they had from him was not light, but a twilight in which no object could be distinctly seen, and which never advanced towards clear daylight.

Closely connected with this tendency to speak in obscure images was his predilection for argument with the Jews on abstruse theological topics. In the other Gospels he teaches the people who surround him, and the subject of his teaching is generally the rules of moral conduct; comparatively seldom theology. In John he does not so much teach as dispute, and the subject of the dispute is not morals—a field he scarcely ever enters—but his personal pretensions. Upon these he carries on a continual wrangle, supporting his claims by his peculiar views of the divine nature and of his relation to it (Jo. v. 16-47; vi. 41-59; vii. 14-36; viii. 12-29; ix. 39-41; x. 19-37). In the same spirit the blind man whom he cures enters into a discussion with the Pharisees on the character of him who had restored his sight (Jo. ix. 24-34). The Jews are depicted as continually occupied about this question. Even their own officers receive from them a reproof for making a laudatory remark about him (Jo. vii. 47, 48), while Nicodemus, who interposes in arrest of judgment, is sharply asked whether he also is of Galilee (Jo. vii. 51-52).

The very best instruction of Jesus is not given, as in the other Gospels, to a multitude, but is reserved for a select circle of his own followers. It is in the 14th, 15th, and 16th chapters that he rises to the sublimest heights of his doctrine, and the whole of this remarkable discourse is delivered to the disciples after Judas has left the supper-table in order to betray him. The substance of his teaching is no less peculiar than its occasions. The writer conceives of him as holding an altogether singular relation to the Father, and that relation he represents his Christ as continually expounding and insisting upon as of vital moment. The Evangelist himself begins his work by a concise statement of his doctrine on this point. The Logos, he says, was with God in the beginning; the Logos was God. All things were made by it, and nothing was made without it. In it was life, and the life was the light of men. This Light came into the world, but the world did not know him. Even his own, whoever these may have been, did not receive him. To those who did receive him, he gave power to become the sons of God; and these were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. The Logos was made flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, as of the only-begotten of the Father (Jo. i. 1-14).

The language of Christ is duly adjusted to this very speculative theory. Thus, he scandalizes the Jews by the bold assertion that he and his Father are one; and adds to their horror by further maintaining that he is in the Father, and the Father in him (Jo. x. 30, 38). Elsewhere, Philip is required to believe in the same truth. In reply to his ignorant request that he may be shown the Father, he is told that seeing Jesus is equivalent to seeing the Father. Moreover, the Father who dwells in Christ performs the works which are apparently done by Christ alone (Jo. xiv. 9-11). The disciples, too, are included in this mystic unity, for they are in Jesus in the same sense in which he is in God (Jo. xiv. 20; xvii. 21, 23). His Father, nevertheless, is greater than himself (Jo. xiv. 28). Jesus has been glorified with the Father before the world existed, and looks forward to a return to that glory. He wishes that those who have been given him on earth may be with him to behold the glory which God, who loved him before the foundation of the world, has given him. That glory he has given them, and they are to be one, even as he and his Father are one; he in them, and God in him (Jo. xvii. 5, 22-24).

After these preliminary observations, we need not dwell long on the historical incidents of the Gospel, of which there are but few. The meeting of Jesus with Andrew and Simon, and his reception of Nathanael, related in the first chapter, have already been noticed. It only remains to be said, that Nathanael was deceived by a prophecy which was not fulfilled; for at the end of the interview, Jesus, referring to his amazement that he had been discovered under the fig-tree, which had quite put him off his balance, tells him that he shall see greater things than these, and especially mentions among them the opening of the heavens and the descent of angels upon the Son of man. Nathanael never saw anything of the kind (Jo. i. 35-51).

The conversion of water into wine follows next. A peculiarity in the notions of this writer is evinced by the assertion that his mother and brothers went with him to Capernaum, for his family do not accompany him, according to any other statement, while here his mother not only is with him, but is aware that he is able to work a miracle (Jo. ii. 1-12). Jesus, after visiting Capernaum, proceeded for the passover to Jerusalem, where it is said that many believed in him because of his miracles. His expulsion of the money-changers, however, brought him into collision with the authorities of his nation, who asked him for a sign; a question to which he replied by the undertaking to rebuild the temple, if destroyed, in three days (Jo. ii. 13-25). But one of the Jewish rulers, named Nicodemus, was disposed to believe in his pretensions. This man came to him by night, and heard from him a long theological disquisition (Jo. iii. 1-21). Jesus then went into Judea, and remained there with his disciples baptizing his converts. John the Baptist is made to bear an emphatic testimony to his superiority (Jo. iii. 22-36). A visit to Sâmaria is the occasion for an interesting dialogue with a Sâmaritan woman who had come to draw water at a well; and her report leads the inhabitants to come out and see the prophet by whom she had been so much impressed.

This incident is reproduced with curious fidelity in a Buddhist story. Ananda, one of Sakyamuni's disciples, met with a Matangi woman, one of a degraded caste, who was drawing water, and asked her to give him some of it to drink. Just as the Sâmaritan wondered that Jesus, a Jew, should ask drink of her, one of a nation with whom the Jews had no dealings, so this young Matangi girl warned Ananda of her caste, which rendered it unlawful for her to approach a monk. And as Jesus nevertheless continued to converse with the woman, so Ananda did not shrink from this outcast damsel. "I do not ask thee, my sister," he replied, "either thy caste or thy family; I only ask thee for water, if thou canst give me some." The Buddha himself, to whom the Matangi girl afterwards presented herself, treated her with equal kindness. He contrived to divert the profane love she had conceived for Ananda into a holy love of religion; much as Jesus led the Sâmaritan from the thought of her five husbands, and of him who was not her husband, to the conception of the universal Father who was to be worshiped "in spirit and in truth." And as the disciples "marveled" that Jesus should have conversed with this member of a despised race, so the respectable Brahmins and householders who adhered to Buddhism were scandalized to learn that the young Matangi had been admitted to the order of mendicants (Jo. iv. 1-42; H. B. I., pp. 205, 206).

After two days spent at Sâmaria Jesus went on to Galilee, where he healed the nobleman's sons (Jo. iv. 43-54). Having returned to Jerusalem for another feast, he cured the impotent man on the Sabbath, which endangered his life at the hands of the indignant Jews, and led him to deliver a long vindication (Jo. v). The feeding of the five thousand was followed by an attempt to make him king, from which he prudently escaped. The disciples took ship to go to Capernaum, and Jesus joined them by walking on the water. On the ensuing day he preached to the people who followed him, and shocked even some of the disciples by the loftiness of the claims he advanced. Many of them are said to have left him at this time (Jo. vi).

A singular proceeding is now mentioned. Urged by his brothers, who were still incredulous, to go to Jerusalem for the feast of tabernacles, he declined on the ground that his time was not yet come. When they were gone he himself went also, though secretly (Jo. vii. 1-10). There is no reason assigned for this little stratagem, and he soon emerged from his incognito and taught openly in the temple. The public mind was much divided about his character, some maintaining him to be Christ, others contending that Christ could only come from the seed of David and the town of Bethlehem. An attempt to arrest him failed, owing to the impression he made upon the police (Jo. vii. 11-53). A discussion with the Jews was terminated by their taking up stones to throw at him, a peril from which he escaped apparently by miracle (Jo. viii. 12-59; verses 1-11 are spurious). Further offense was given by the restoration of a blind man's sight on the Sabbath (Jo. ix). A discourse on his title to authority provoked divisions, and at the feast of the dedication he was plainly asked whether he was the Christ. His answer again led to an attempt to stone him, from which he escaped to the place beyond Jordan where John had formerly baptized (Jo. x). The raising of Lazarus and the anointing by Mary are the next events recorded (Jo. xi. 1-xii. 9). The passover followed six days after the latter incident, and his preaching at this festival was interrupted in a singular manner. Jesus had used the words, "Father, glorify thy name!" whereupon a voice was heard from heaven, saying, "I both have glorified it, and will glorify it again." Thereupon Jesus observed that this voice came not for his sake, but for that of the bystanders. It seems, however, to have produced but little effect upon them, for a few verses later we find a complaint that, in spite of his many miracles, they did not believe in him (Jo. xii. 12-50). The last supper with the disciples was immediately succeeded by a parting discourse of much beauty, conceived in an elevated tone; and his last moments of freedom were occupied in a prayer of which the pathos has been rarely equaled (Jo. xiii.-xvii).

The remainder of his career—his trial, execution, and alleged resurrection—have been fully treated in another place.

SUBDIVISION 4.—_What did the Jews think of him?_