_THE NEW DEPARTURE._
(FOUNDING OF THE CHURCH.)
MATT. xvi. 13-xvii. 21.
This conversation at Cæsarea Philippi is universally regarded as
marking a new era in the life of Christ. His rejection by "His own" is
now complete. Jerusalem, troubled at His birth, had been troubled once
again when He suddenly came to His Temple, and began to cleanse it in
His Father's name; and though many at the feast were attracted by His
deeds of mercy, He could not commit Himself to any of them (John ii.
24): there was no rock there on which to build His Church. He had
passed through Samaria, and found there fields white unto the harvest,
but the time of reaping was not yet. Galilee had given better promise:
again and again it had appeared as if the foundation of the new
kingdom would be firmly laid in the land of "Zebulun and Naphtali";
but there had been bitter and crushing disappointment,--even the
cities where most of His mighty works were done repented not. The
people had eagerly welcomed His earthly things; but when He began to
speak to them of heavenly things they "went back, and walked no more
with Him." And though opportunity after opportunity was given them
while He hovered on the outskirts, ever and anon returning[12] to the
familiar scenes, they would not repent; they would not welcome or even
receive the kingdom of God which Christ came to found. The country has
been traversed from the wilderness of Judæa, in the far south, even
unto Dan; and as there had been no room for the Infant King in the
inn, so there was none in all the land for the infant kingdom.
Thus it comes to pass that, with the very small band He has gathered
around Him--called in the land indeed, but now of necessity called to
come out of it--He withdraws to the neighbourhood of the Gentile town
of Cæsarea Philippi; not for seclusion only, but, as the event shows,
to found an _Ecclesia_--His Church. The scenery in this region is
exceptionally beautiful, and the place was in every way suited for a
season of quiet communion with nature and with nature's God. It was,
moreover, just outside the land; and in the place and surroundings
there was much that must have been suggestive and inspiring. Is not
this great mountain, on one of the southern flanks of which they are
now resting, the mighty Hermon, the great landmark of the north,
rearing its snowy head on high to catch the precious clouds of heaven,
and enrich with them the winds that shall blow southward over
Palestine? And are not these springs which issue from the rock beside
them the sources of the Jordan, the sacred river? As the dew of
Hermon, and as the flowing of the water-springs, shall be that Church
of the living God, which, as the sequel will unfold, had its first
foundation on this rocky hillside and by these river sources.
Into this remote and rocky region, then, the Master has retired with
the small band of faithful disciples, on whom alone He can depend for
the future. But can He depend even on them? Have they not been tainted
with the general apostasy? Does He not already know one of them to be
in heart a traitor? (cf. John vi. 70). And have not all of them just
needed the caution themselves to beware of the leaven of the Pharisees
and Sadducees? Are they really strong men of faith, like "faithful
Abraham," or are they to be like reeds shaken by the wind? The time
has come to test it. This He does, first by asking them what they
think of Himself, and then by showing them what they must expect if
they still will follow Him. First there must be the test of faith, to
ascertain what they have learned from their intercourse with Him in
the past; then the test of hope, lest their attachment to Him should
be based on expectations doomed to disappointment.
I.--THE CHRIST (xvi. 13-20).
The faith test is a strictly personal one. We have seen how the Master
has, so to speak, focussed His gospel in Himself. He had begun by
preaching the Gospel of the Kingdom, and calling men to repentance;
but as time passed on He found it necessary to make a more personal
appeal, pressing His invitations in the winning form, "Come unto Me."
When things came to a crisis in Galilee, He first in symbol and then
in word set Himself before the people as the bread of life, which each
one must receive and eat if he would live. Thus He has been making it
more and more evident that the only way to receive the kingdom of God
is to welcome Himself as the Son of the living God come to claim the
hearts of men for His Father in heaven. How is it with the little
band? Is theirs the popular notion, which classes the Son of God as
only one among other gifted sons of men, or do they welcome Him in the
plenitude of His divine prerogative and power? Hence the first
inquiry, which brings out the answer: "Some say that Thou art John the
Baptist; some, Elias; and others, Jeremias, or one of the prophets."
This is manifestly the popular idea at its highest and best. There
were, no doubt, among the people those whose thought already was "Away
with Him! away with Him!" But it might well go without saying that the
disciples had no sympathy with these. It did, however, remain to be
seen whether they were not content, like the best of the people, to
accept Him as a teacher sent from God, a great prophet of Israel, or
at most a John the Baptist, the mere herald of the coming King. We can
imagine, then, with what intensity of feeling the Master would look
into the disciples' eyes as He put the testing question, "But whom say
_ye_ that I am?" and with what joy He would hail the ready response of
their spokesman Peter, when, with eyes full of heavenly light and
heart glowing with sacred fire, he exclaimed, "Thou art the Christ,
the Son of the living God!"
It would be beyond belief, were it not so sadly familiar a fact, that
some, professing honestly to interpret this passage, resolve the
answer of the apostle into little or nothing more than the popular
idea, as if the Sonship here referred to were only what any prophet or
righteous man might claim. He surely must be wilfully blind who does
not see that the apostolic answer which the Lord accepts is wide as
the poles from the popular notions He so decisively rejects; and this
is made peculiarly emphatic by the striking words with which the true
answer is welcomed--the Saviour's first personal beatitude (as if to
suggest, His is the kingdom of heaven--cf. Matt. v. 3, 10): "Blessed
art thou, Simon Bar-jona: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it
unto thee, but My Father which is in heaven." It will be remembered
that, in asserting His own personal relation to the Father, Christ had
said: "No man knoweth the Son, but the Father; neither knoweth any man
the Father, save the Son, and he to whomsoever the Son will reveal
Him" (xi. 27); and now that to one at least the Father has been
revealed in the Son, He recognises the fact with joy. These notions of
the people about Him were but earth-born notions, the surmisings of
"flesh and blood": this faith of the true apostle was born from above;
it could have come only from heaven.
Now at last, therefore, the foundation is laid, and the building of
the spiritual temple is begun. The words which follow (ver. 18) are
quite natural and free from most, if not from all, the difficulties in
which perverse human ingenuity has entangled them, if only we bear in
mind the circumstances and surroundings. The little group is standing
on one of the huge rocky flanks of mighty Hermon, great boulders here
and there around them; and in all probability, well in sight, some
great stones cut out of the rock and made ready for use in building,
like those still to be seen in the neighbourhood of Baalbec, to the
north of Hermon; for this region was famous for its great temples.
Now, when we remember that the two words our Lord uses (πέτρος and
πέτρα) for "rock" in our version have not precisely the same
meaning--the one (Petros, Peter) signifying a piece of rock, a stone,
the other (Petra) suggesting rather the great bed-rock out of which
these stones are cut and on which they are lying--we can understand
that, while the reference is certainly in the first place to Peter
himself, the main thing is the great fact just brought out that he is
resting, in the strength of faith, on God as revealed in His Son.
Thus, while Peter is certainly the piece of rock, the first stone
which is laid upon the great underlying foundation on which all the
faithful build, and therefore is in a sense--the common popular sense,
in fact--the foundation stone, yet the foundation of all is the
Bed-Rock, on which the first stone and all other stones are laid.
Bearing this well in mind, we further see that there is no
inconsistency between this and those other scriptures in which God is
represented as alone the Rock of our salvation. The Bed-Rock, "the
Rock of Ages," is here, as elsewhere, God as revealed in His Son, and
Peter is the first stone "well and truly laid" upon it.
If the surroundings suggest the use of the words _Petros_ and
_Petra_, stone and rock, the circumstances suggest the use of the
word Ecclesia, or Church, which is here employed by our Lord for the
first time. Up to this time He has spoken always of the kingdom, never
of the church. How is this to be explained? Of course the kingdom is
the larger term; and now it is necessary that that portion of the
kingdom which is to be organised on earth should be distinguished by a
specific designation; and the use of the word "church" in preference
to the more familiar "synagogue" may be accounted for by the desire to
avoid confusion. Besides this, however, the word itself is specially
significant. It means an assembly "called out," and suggests the idea
of separateness, so appropriate to the circumstances of the little
band of outcasts.
To see into this more fully, let us recall the recent teaching as to
the true Israel (chap. xv.), no longer to be found in the old land of
Israel. If there is to be an Israel at all, it must be reconstituted
"outside the camp." In view of this, how strikingly significant is it
that just as Abraham had to leave his country and go to a strange land
to found the old theocracy, so Christ has to leave His country and go
with His followers to these remote northern regions to constitute
"_the Israel of God_," to inaugurate His Church, the company of
those who, like these faithful ones, come out and are separate to be
united by faith to Him! Christ with the Twelve around Him is the
Israel of the New Testament; and we can imagine that it was on this
occasion especially that in the prayers which we know from St. Luke's
Gospel He offered in connection with this very conversation, He would
find these words of devotion especially appropriate: "Behold, I and
the children which God hath given Me" (Heb. ii. 13). The family of God
(see chap. xii. 49) are by themselves apart, disowned by those who
still bear unworthily the name of Israel; and most appropriate it is
that on this occasion our Lord should begin to use that great word,
which means first "called out" and then "gathered in": "on this rock I
will build My CHURCH."
When we think of the place and the scene and the circumstances, the
sad memories of the past and the gloomy forebodings for the future,
what sublimity of faith must we recognise in the words which
immediately follow: "The gates of hell shall not prevail against it"!
Oh! shame on us who grow faint-hearted with each discouragement, when
the Master, with rejection behind Him and death before Him, found it
encouragement enough after so much toil to make a bare beginning of
the new temple of the Lord; and even in that day of smallest things
was able to look calmly forward across the troubled sea of the dark
future and already raise the shout of final victory!
But that day of victory is still far off; and before it can even begin
to come, there must be a descent into the valley of the shadow of
death. He is about to tell His disciples that He must go up to
Jerusalem and die, and leave them to be the builders of the Church. He
cannot continue long to be the Keeper of the keys; so He must prepare
them for taking them from His hand when the time shall come for Him to
go. Hence the words which follow, appropriately addressed in the first
place to the disciple who had first confessed Him: "I will give unto
thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven." "Honour to whom honour is
due:" the first member of the Church is to be its prime minister as
well. When the Master's voice shall be silent, the voice of the
rock-disciple (and of the other disciples as well, for the same
commission was afterwards extended to them all) shall have the same
authority to bind, to loose, to regulate the administration of Church
affairs as if He Himself were with them. It was not yet time to tell
them how it would be--viz., by the coming and indwelling of His
Spirit; it is enough now to give them the assurance that the infant
Church shall not be left without authority from above, without power
from on high.
The Church is founded; but for a time it must remain in obscurity. The
people are not ready; and the gospel, which is to be the power of God
unto salvation, is not yet complete, until He shall go up to Jerusalem
and suffer many things and die. Till then all that has passed in this
sacred northern retreat must remain a secret: "He charged His
disciples that they should tell no man that He was the Christ" (R.V.).
II.--THE CROSS (xvi. 21-28).
A still more searching test must now be applied. It is not enough to
discover what they have learned from their intercourse with Him in the
past; He must find out whether they have courage enough to face what
is now impending in the future. Their faith in God as revealed in
Christ His Son has been well approved. It remains to be seen whether
it is strong enough to bear the ordeal of the cross, to which it must
soon be subjected: "From that time forth began Jesus to show unto His
disciples, how that He must go unto Jerusalem, and suffer many things
of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed."
Already from time to time He had darkly hinted what manner of death He
should die; but it was only from this time that He began to _show_ it
unto them, to put it before them so that they could not fail to see
it. Herein see the wisdom and tender considerateness of "the Son of
man." So dark and difficult a lesson would have been too much for them
before. The ordeal would have been too severe. Not until their faith
has begun with some firmness to grasp His true and proper divinity,
can their hope live with such a prospect. There must be some basis for
a faith in His rising again, before He can ask them even to look into
the dark abyss of death into which He must descend. That basis is
found in the confession of the rock-apostle; and relying on it He can
trust them by-and-by, if not at once, to look through the darkness of
the suffering and death to the rising again, the prospect of which He
sets before them at the very same time: "and be raised again the
third day." Besides, there was no possibility of their ever beginning
to understand the atonement till they had grasped the truth of the
incarnation. To this day the one is intelligible only in the light of
the other. Those to whom Jesus of Nazareth is only "one of the
prophets" cannot begin to see how He _must_ suffer and die. Only those
who with the apostles rise to the realisation of His divine glory are
prepared to understand anything of the mystery of His Cross and
Passion.
As yet, however, the mystery is too deep and the prospect too dark
even for them, as becomes painfully evident from the conduct of the
bravest of them all, who "took Him, and began to rebuke Him, saying,
Be it far from Thee, Lord: this shall not be unto Thee."
We naturally and properly blame the presumption of the apostle, who,
when he did not understand, might at least have been silent, or have
contented himself with some modest question, instead of this
unbecoming remonstrance with One Whose Messiahship and Divine Sonship
he had just confessed. But, though we may blame him for what he said,
we cannot wonder at what he thought and felt. The lesson of the cross
is just beginning. The disciples are just entering a higher form in
the Master's school; and it does not follow, because they have
undergone so well their examination on the great lesson of the past,
that they are prepared all at once to take in what must be the great
lesson of the future. They have had time for the first: may they not
be allowed time for the second? Why, then, is Peter reproved so very
severely?
We may say, indeed, that faithfulness to Peter himself required it.
The strong commendation with which his noble confession has been
greeted, instead of making him humble, as it ought to have done,
inasmuch as it reminded him that it was not of himself but from above
he had the power to make it, seems to have made him over-confident,
trustful to that very flesh and blood to which he had been assured he
was, in regard to that confession, in no wise indebted. It was
therefore necessary that the warm commendation accorded to the
strength of his faith should be balanced by an equally strong
condemnation of his unbelief. But there is more than this to be said.
Christ is looking at Peter, and speaking to Peter; but he recognises
another, whom He names and whom in the first place He addresses: "Get
thee behind Me, Satan." He recognises the same old enemy, with the
same old weapon of assault: for it is the same temptation as that
which formed the climax of the conflict in the wilderness, a
temptation to prosecute His work by methods which would spare Him the
awful agony of the cross. The devil had departed from Him then; but
only, as we were informed, "for a season"; and there are frequent
indications in the subsequent history that at critical times the great
adversary took opportunities of renewing the old temptation. This is
one of these occasions. Let us by all means bear in mind that our Lord
was true man--that He was "compassed with infirmity," that He was
"tempted in all points like as we are," though ever without sin; let
us not imagine, then, that His human soul was always on so serene a
height that the words of one who loved Him and whom He loved so much
would have no effect on Him. It was hard enough for Him to face the
awful darkness, without having this new stumbling-block set in His
path. It is a real temptation, and a most dangerous one; He may not
therefore tamper with it for a moment: He may not allow His affection
for His true disciple to blind Him to the real source of it; He must
realise with whom He has to deal; He must behind the love of the
apostle recognise the malice of the evil one, who is using him as his
instrument; accordingly, with His face set as a flint, with His whole
being braced for resistance, so that not a hair's-breadth shall be
yielded, He says: "Get thee behind Me, Satan: thou art a
stumbling-block unto Me" (R.V.)--words which clearly indicate that He
had recognised the danger, and summoned the resources of His faith and
obedience to put the stumbling-block away.
"Resist the devil, and he will flee from you." We may be sure,
therefore, that so soon as the energetic words were spoken _he_
was gone: the stumbling-block was out of the way. The words which
follow may therefore be regarded as spoken to Peter himself, to bring
to his own consciousness the difference between the heavenly faith
which had come by revelation from above, and the earthly doubt and
denial, which was evidently not of God, though so natural to flesh and
blood: "Thou mindest not the things of God, but the things of men"
(R.V.).
Thus once more the Christ of God takes up the cross of man. In doing
so He not only sets aside the protest, uttered or unexpressed, of His
disciples' hearts; but He tells them plainly that they too must take
the same dark path if they would follow Him: "Then said Jesus unto His
disciples, If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, and
take up his cross, and follow Me." So He tests them to the uttermost.
He withdraws nothing He has said about the blessedness of those who
welcome the kingdom of heaven; but the time has come to put the
necessary condition in its strongest light, so that, if they still
follow, it will be not blindly, but with eyes fully open to all that
it involves. He has given hints before of the stringency of the Divine
requirement; He has spoken of the strait gate and the narrow way; now
He goes to the very heart of that hard matter, and unfolds the
innermost secret of the kingdom of heaven. "Let him deny himself:"
here is the pivot of all--the _crux_.
Be it observed that this is not "self-denial" as currently understood,
a term applied to the denial to self of something or other which
perhaps self cares very little about, but something much more radical.
It is the denial of self involving as its correlative the giving of
the life to God. It is the death of self-will, and the birth of
God-will,[13] as the central force of the life.
"Let him deny himself, _and take up his cross_." Each one has
"his" cross, some point in which the will of God and self-will come
into direct opposition. To the Captain of our salvation the conflict
came in its very darkest and most dreadful form. Its climax was in the
Garden, when after the great agony He cried: "Not My will, but Thine
be done." Our conflict will not be nearly so severe: it may even be on
a point that may seem small,--whether or not we will give up some
besetting sin, whether or not we will do some disagreeable duty,
whether or not we will surrender something which stands between us and
Christ,--but whatever that be in which the will of God and our own
will are set in opposition, there is our cross, and it must be taken
up, and self must be denied that we may follow Christ. "They that are
Christ's have _crucified the flesh_."
Is this, then, the great salvation? Does it resolve itself into a
species of suicide? Do we enter the kingdom of life by death? It is
even so; and the words which follow resolve the paradox: "For
whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose
his life for My sake shall find it." It is a surrender of life,
certainly, for the giving up of self means the giving up of all; but
these words "for My sake" make all the difference. It is a surrender
which, in dethroning self, enthrones Christ in the life. It is dying
indeed; but it is dying into life: it is an act of faith which puts an
end to the old life of the flesh, and opens the gate for the new life
of the spirit.
We have seen that all may hinge on some point that may seem quite
small, in which case the sacrifice is plainly not to be compared with
the compensation; but even when the very greatest sacrifice is
demanded, it is folly not to make it: "For what shall a man be
profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and forfeit his life?"
(R.V.). And, if life is forfeited, how can it be bought back again:
"What shall a man give in exchange for his life" (R.V.)? "In Him was
life," and in Him is life still; therefore He is more to us than all
the world. It is better to suffer the loss of all things for Christ,
than to have all that flesh and blood could desire without Him.
The world is very large; and the Son of man must have seemed very
small and weak that day, as He told them of the coming days when He
should suffer so many things at His enemies' hands, and die; but this
is only while the time of testing lasts: things will be seen in their
true proportion by-and-by, when "the Son of man shall come" (what a
golden background this to the dark prospect immediately before them!
He _must go_; yes; but _He shall come_) "in the glory of His Father
with His angels; then He shall reward every man according to his
works." Thus, with the searching test the Saviour gives the reassuring
prospect; and lest by reason of its indefinite distance they may fail
to find in it all the encouragement they need for the present
distress, He gives them the further assurance that, before very long,
there shall be manifest tokens of the coming glory of their now
despised and slighted King: "Verily I say unto you, There be some
standing here, which shall not taste of death, till they see the Son
of man coming in His kingdom."
III.--THE GLORY (xvii. 1-8).
"After six days"--the interval is manifestly of importance, for the
three Evangelists who record the event all lay stress on it. St. Luke
says "about an eight days," which indicates that the six days referred
to by the others were days of interval between that on which the
conversation at Cæsarea Philippi took place and the morning of the
transfiguration. It follows that we may regard this important epoch in
the life of our Lord as covering a week; and may we not speak of it as
His passion week in the north? The shadow of the cross was on Him all
His life through; but it must have been much darker during this week
than ever before. At the beginning of it He had been obliged for the
first time to let that shadow fall upon His loved disciples, and the
days which followed seem to have been given to thought and prayer, and
quiet, unrecorded conversation. Beyond all question their thoughts
would be fixed on the new subject of contemplation which had just been
brought before them, and whatever conversation they had with one
another and with the Master would have this for its centre. It cannot
but have been a very sad and trying week. The first tidings of the
approach of some impending disaster is often harder to bear than is
the stroke itself when afterwards it falls. To the disciples the whole
horizon of the future would be filled with darkest clouds of mystery;
for though they had been told also of the rising again and the glory
that should follow, they could as yet get little cheer from what lay
so far in the dim distance, and was, moreover, so little understood,
that even after the vision on the mount, the favoured three questioned
with each other what the rising from the dead might mean (Mark ix.
10). To the Master the awful prospect must have been much more
definite and real; yet even to His human soul it could not have been
free from that namelessness of mystery that must have made the
anticipation in some respects as bad as the reality, rendering the
week to Him a passion week indeed.
No wonder that at the end of it He has a great longing heavenward, and
that He should ask the three most advanced of His disciples, who had
been with Him in the chamber of death and were afterwards to be
witnesses of His agony in the Garden, to go with Him to a high
mountain apart. The wisdom of His taking only these three was
afterwards fully apparent, when it proved that the experience awaiting
them on the mountain-top was almost too much for even them to bear. It
is of no importance to identify the mountain; probably it was one of
the spurs of the Hermon range, at the base of which they had spent the
intervening week. We can perfectly understand the sacred instinct
which led the Saviour to seek the highest point which could be readily
reached, so as to feel Himself for the time as far away from earth
and as near to heaven as possible. When we think of this, what pathos
is there in the reference to the height of the mountain and the
loneliness of the spot: He "bringeth them up into a high mountain
apart"!
We are told by St. Luke that they went up "to pray." It seems most
natural to accept this statement as not only correct, but as a
sufficient statement of the object our Saviour had in view. The
thought of transfiguration may not have been in His mind at all. Here,
as always, He was guided by the will of His Father in heaven; and it
is not necessary to suppose that to His human mind that will was made
known earlier than the occasion required. We are not told that He went
up to be transfigured: we are told that He went up to pray.
It seems probable that the idea was to spend the night in prayer. We
know that this was a not infrequent custom with Him; and if ever there
seemed a call for it, it must have been now, when about to begin that
sorrowful journey which led to Calvary. With this thought agree all
the indications which suggest that it was evening when they ascended,
night while they remained on the top, and morning when they came down.
This, too, will account in the most natural manner for the drowsiness
of the apostles; and the fact that their Lord felt none of it only
proved how much more vivid was his realisation of the awfulness of the
crisis than theirs was. We are to think of the four, then, as slowly
and thoughtfully climbing the hill at eventide, carrying their
_abbas_, or rugs, on which they would kneel for prayer, and which, if
they needed rest, they would wrap around them, as is the Oriental
custom. By the time they reached the top, night would have cast its
veil of mystery on the grandeur of the mountains round about them;
while snowy Hermon in the gloom would rise like a mighty giant to
heaven, its summit "visited all night by troops of stars." Never
before nor since has there been such a prayer meeting on this earth of
ours.
A careful reading of all the records leads us to think of the
following as the order of events. Having gone up to pray, they would
doubtless all kneel down together. As the night wore on, the three
disciples, being exhausted, would wrap themselves in their cloaks and
go to sleep; while the Master, to whom sleep at such a time was
unnatural, if not impossible, would continue in prayer. Can we suppose
that that time of pleading was free from agony? His soul had been
stirred within Him when Peter had tempted Him to turn aside from the
path of the Cross; and may we not with reverence suppose that on that
lonely hilltop, as later in the Garden, there might be in His heart
the cry, "Father, if it be possible"? If only the way upward were open
now! Has not the kingdom of God been preached in Judæa, in Samaria, in
Galilee, away to the very borderlands? and has not the Church been
founded? and has not authority been given to the apostles? Is it,
then, absolutely necessary to go back, back to Jerusalem, not to gain
a triumph, but to accept the last humiliation and defeat? There cannot
but have been a great conflict of feeling; and with all the
determination to be obedient even unto death, there must have been a
shrinking from the way of the cross, and a great longing for heaven
and home and the Father's welcome. The longing cannot be gratified: it
is not possible for the cup to pass from Him; but just as later in
Gethsemane there came an angel from heaven strengthening him, so now
His longing for heaven and home and the smile of His Father is
gratified in the gladdening and strengthening experience which
followed His prayer--a foretaste of the heavenly glory, so vivid, so
satisfying, that He will thenceforth be strong, for the joy that is
set before Him, to endure the Cross, despising the shame. For behold,
as He prays, His face becomes radiant, the glory within shining
through the veil of His mortal flesh. We all know that this flesh of
ours is more or less transparent, and that in moments of exaltation
the faces of even ordinary men will shine as with a heavenly lustre.
We need not wonder, then, that it should have been so with our Lord,
only in an immeasurably higher degree: that His face should have shone
even "as the sun"; and that, though He could not yet ascend to heaven,
heaven's brightness should have descended on Him and wrapped Him
round, so that even "His raiment was white as the light." And not only
heavenly light is round, but heavenly company; for "behold, there
appeared unto them Moses and Elias talking with Him."
The disciples could not sleep through all this. "When they were fully
awake, they saw His glory, and the two men that stood with Him" (Luke
ix. 32, R.V.). How they recognised them we are not told. It may have
been through their conversation, which in part at least they
understood; for the substance of it has been preserved in St. Luke's
Gospel, where we read that they "spake of His decease (literally,
_exodus_) which He should accomplish at Jerusalem." The human soul of
Jesus no doubt longed for an exodus here and now, from this very
height of Hermon into the presence of God; but He knows this cannot
be: His exodus must be accomplished in a very different way, and at
Jerusalem. This Moses and Elijah knew; and their words must have
brought Him encouragement and strength, and given steadiness and
assurance to the wavering hearts of Peter, James and John.
That the conversation was intended for their benefit as well, seems
indicated by the way in which Peter's intervention is recorded: "Then
_answered_ Peter, and said unto Jesus." What he said is quite
characteristic of the impulsive disciple, so ready to speak without
thinking. On this occasion he blunders in a very natural and
pardonable way. He feels as if he ought to say something; and, as
nothing more to the purpose occurs to him, he blurts out his
thoughtless proposal to make three tabernacles for their abode.
Besides the thoughtlessness of this speech, which is manifest enough,
there seems to lurk in it a sign of his falling back into the very
error which a week ago he had renounced--the error of putting his
Master in the same class as Moses and Elias, reckoning Him thus, as
the people of Galilee had done, simply as "one of the prophets." If
so, his mistake is at once corrected; for behold a bright luminous
cloud--fit symbol of the Divine presence: the cloud suggesting
mystery, and the brightness, glory--wraps all from sight, and out of
the cloud there comes a voice: "This is My beloved Son, in Whom I am
well pleased; hear ye Him."
We now see how appropriate it was that just these two should be the
heavenly messengers to wait upon the Son of man on this occasion. The
one represented the law, the other the prophets. "The law and the
prophets were until John;" but both are now merged in the gospel of
Jesus, Who is all and in all. Moses and Elijah have long had audience
of the people of God; but behold a greater than Moses or Elijah is
here, and they must withdraw; and accordingly, when the Voice is
silent and the cloud has cleared away, Jesus is left alone. No one
remains to divide His authority, and none to share His sorrow. He must
tread the winepress alone. Moses and Elijah return to the world of
spirits--Jesus, God's beloved Son, to the world of men. And all His
human sympathies were fresh and quick as ever; for, finding His three
disciples fallen on their faces for fear, He came and touched them,
saying, "Arise, and be not afraid." They no doubt thought their Lord
had laid aside His human body, and left them all alone upon the
mountain; but with His human hand He touched them, and with His human
voice He called them as of old, and with His human heart He welcomed
them again. Reassured, they lifted up their eyes, and saw their
Lord--the man Christ Jesus as before--and no one else. All is over;
and as the world is unprepared for it, the vision is sealed until the
Son of man be risen from the dead.
Why were their lips sealed? The more we think of it, the more we shall
see the wisdom of this seal of secrecy, even from the other nine; for
had they been prepared to receive the revelation, they would have been
privileged to witness it. The transfiguration was no mere wonder; it
was no sign granted to incredulity: it was one of those sacred
experiences for rare spirits in rare hours, which nature itself
forbids men to parade, or even so much as mention, unless constrained
to it by duty.
It is one of the innumerable notes of truth found, wherever aught that
is marvellous is recorded in these Gospels, that the glory on the
mount is not appealed to, to confirm the faith of any but the three
who witnessed it. Upon them it did produce a deep and abiding
impression. One of them, indeed, died a martyr's death so very early
that we have nothing from his pen (Acts xii. 2); but both the others
have left us words written late in their after life, which show how
ineffaceable was the impression produced upon them by what they saw
that memorable night. John evidently has it in mind, both in the
beginning of his Epistle and of his Gospel, as where he says: "We
beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father;"
and Peter thus conveys the assurance which the experience of that
night left with him to the end: "We have not followed cunningly
devised fables, when we made known unto you the power and coming of
our Lord Jesus Christ, but were eyewitnesses of His majesty. For He
received from God the Father honour and glory, when there came such a
voice to Him from the excellent glory, This is My beloved Son, in Whom
I am well pleased. And this voice which came from heaven we heard,
when we were with Him in the holy mount." But while the impression
made upon the three who witnessed it was so deep and abiding, it could
not be expected to have any direct evidential value to others;
accordingly it remained unused in their dealings with others until
their Master's work had been crowned by His resurrection from the
dead, which was to be _the_ sign, as He had again and again said to
those who kept asking Him for a sign from heaven. The transfiguration
was indeed a sign from heaven; but it was no sign for a faithless
generation: it was only for those who by the strength of their faith
and the purity of their devotion were prepared to receive it. Signs
fitted to satisfy the doubting heart had been wrought in great
abundance (xi. 4, 5); and the crowning sign was to be certified by
many infallible proofs, after which it would be time to speak of the
experience of that sacred night upon the holy mount.
How fitly the transfiguration closes this memorable week! As we linger
with the Lord and His disciples at the sources of the Jordan, we
realise that we have reached what we may call the water-shed of
doctrine in His training of the Twelve. Slowly have they been rising
in their thoughts of Christ, until at last they recognise His true
divinity, and make a clear and full confession of it. But no sooner
have they reached that height of truth than they are constrained to
look down into the dark valley before them, at the bottom of which
they dimly see the dreadful cross; and then, to comfort and reassure,
there is this vision of the glory that shall follow. Thus we have, in
succession, the three great doctrines of the faith: Incarnation,
Atonement, Resurrection. There is first the glory of Christ as the Son
of God; then His shame as Bearer of our sin; then the vision of the
glory that shall follow, the glory given to Him as His reward. For may
we not regard that company upon the mount as a miniature of the Church
in heaven and on earth? There was the great and glorified Head of the
Church, and round Him five representative members: two from the family
in heaven, three from the family on earth--those from the Church
triumphant, these from the Church still militant--those from among the
saints of the old covenant, these the firstfruits of the new. Could
there have been a better representation of "the whole family in heaven
and on earth"? How appropriate that the passion week of the north,
which began with the founding of the Church in the laying of its first
stone, should end with a vision of it as completed, which must to
some extent have been a fulfilment of the promise, "He shall see of
the travail of His soul, and shall be satisfied"!
Observe, too, in quick succession, the great key-words of the new age:
The Christ (xvi. 16), The Church (ver. 18), The Cross (ver. 24), The
Glory (ver. 27): the latter, as still in the future, made real by the
glory on the holy mount. The mediæval interpreters, always on the
watch for the symbolism of numbers, especially the number three,
regarded Peter as the apostle of faith, James of hope, and John of
love. And though we may set this aside as a touch of fancy, we cannot
fail to observe that just as the mind, in its grasp of truth, is led
from the incarnation to the atonement, and thence to the resurrection
and the glory that shall follow; so the cardinal graces of the
Christian life are called out in quick succession: first faith with
its rock-foundation; then love with its self-sacrificing devotion; and
finally hope with its vision of heavenly glory. The whole gospel of
Christ, the whole life of the Christian, is found in this brief
passage of the first Evangelist, ending with the suggestive words,
"Jesus only."
IV.--THE DESCENT (xvii. 9-21).
Who can tell what each step downward cost the Son of man? If it seemed
good to the disciples to be on the mountain-top, what must it have
been to the Master! and what utter denial of self and conscious taking
up of the cross it must have been to leave that hallowed spot! We have
already seen a reason, as regards the disciples, why the vision should
be sealed till the time of the end; but was there not also a reason
which touched the Master Himself? It was well that He had enjoyed such
a time of refreshing--it would be something to look back to in darkest
hours; but it must be a memory only: it may not therefore be a subject
of conversation--not the glory, but the cross, must now, both for
Himself and for His disciples, fill all the near horizon.
This view of the case is confirmed by the manner in which He deals
with their question respecting Elijah. It was a very natural question.
It was no doubt perplexing in many ways to be absolutely forbidden to
tell what they had seen; but it seemed especially mysterious in view
of Elijah's appearance, which they not unnaturally regarded as a
fulfilment of the prophecy for which the scribes were waiting. Hence
their question, "Why, then, say the Scribes that Elias must first
come?" Our Lord's answer turned their thoughts to the true fulfilment
of the prophecy which was no shadowy appearance on a lonely hill, but
the real presence among the men of the time of a genuine reformer who
had come in the spirit and power of Elijah, and who would certainly
have restored all things, had not these very scribes and Pharisees,
failing to recognise him, left him to the will of the tyrant who had
done away with him. Then most significantly He adds, that as it had
been with the Elijah, so would it be with the Messiah of the time:
"Likewise shall also the Son of man suffer of them." Thus, in showing
them where to look for the true fulfilment of the prophecy, He turns
their attention as well as His own away from the glory on the mount,
which must now be a thing of the past, to that dark scene in the
prison cell, which was so painfully impressed upon their minds, and
those still darker scenes in the near future of which it was the
presage.
At the foot of the mountain there is presented one of those striking
contrasts with which, as we have seen, this Gospel abounds. It is very
familiar to us through Raphael's great painting; and we shall
certainly not make the mistake of attempting to translate into our
feeble words what is there seen, and may now be regarded as "known and
read of all men." Leaving, therefore, to the imagination the contrast
between the glory on the mount and the misery on the plain, let us
briefly look at the scene itself. Briefly; for though it well deserves
detailed treatment, the proper place for this would be the full record
of it in the second Gospel; while the more general way in which it is
presented here suggests the propriety of dealing with it in outline
only. Without, then, attempting to enter on the striking and most
instructive details to be found in St. Mark's Gospel, and without even
dealing with it as we have endeavoured to deal with similar cures
under the head of the Signs of the Kingdom, it may be well to glance
at it in the light of the words used by our Lord when He was
confronted with the sorrowful scene: "O faithless and perverse
generation, how long shall I be with you? how long shall I suffer you?"
It seems evident from these words that He is looking at the scene, not
so much as presenting a case of individual suffering, appealing to His
compassion, as a representation in miniature of the helplessness and
perverseness of the race of men He has come to save. Remember how well
He knew what was in man, and therefore what it must have been to Him,
immediately after such a season of pure and peaceful communion on the
holy mount, to have to enter into sympathy with all the variety of
helplessness and confusion He saw around Him. There is the poor
plague-stricken boy in the centre; beside him his agonised father;
there, the feeble and blundering disciples, and the scribes (Mark ix.
14) questioning with them; and all around the excited, sympathetic and
utterly perplexed multitude. Yet the kingdom of heaven is so near
them, and has been so long proclaimed among them! Alas! alas for the
perversity of men, that blinds them to the Sun of Righteousness,
already arisen with healing in His wings, and for the unbelief even of
the disciples themselves, which renders them, identified though they
are with the kingdom, as helpless as all the rest! When we think of
all this, need we wonder at the wail which breaks from the Saviour's
sorrowful heart, need we wonder that He cries "How long? how long?"
"Bring him hither to Me." Here is the solvent of all. "From that very
hour" the boy is cured, the father's heart is calmed and filled with
gladness, the cavillers are silenced, the multitudes are satisfied and
the worn-out faith of the disciples is renewed. Out of chaos, order,
out of tumult, peace, by a word from Christ. It was a wilder sea than
Galilee at its stormiest; but at His rebuke the winds and waves were
stilled, and there was a great calm.
So would it be still, if this generation were not perverse and
faithless in its turn--the world perverse, the Church faithless. Above
the stormy sea of human sin and woe and helplessness, there still is
heard the lamentation "How long shall I be with you? how long shall I
suffer you?" Here are we groaning and travailing in this late age of
the world and of the Church, the worst kind of demons still working
their will in their poor victims, the cry of anxious parents going up
for lost children, disciples blundering and failing in well-meant
efforts to cast the demons out, wise and learned scribes pointing at
them the finger of scorn, excited and angry multitudes demanding
satisfaction which they fail to get--Oh, if only all could hear the
voice of the Son of man as the multitude heard it that day; and if we
would only with one consent recognise the majesty of His face and mien
as they did (see Mark ix. 15), bring to Him our plague-stricken ones,
our devil-possessed, bring to Him our difficulties and perplexities,
our vexed questions and our hard problems, would He not as of old
bring order out of our chaos, and out of weakness make us strong? Oh,
for more faith, faith to take hold of the Christ of God, come down
from His holy habitation, and with us even to the end of the world, to
bear the infirmities and carry the sorrows and take away the sins of
men!--then should we be able to say to this mountain of evil under
which our cities groan, "Be thou removed, and be thou cast into the
sea," and it would be done. If only the Church of Christ in the world
to-day had through all its membership that faith which is the only
avenue by which the power of God can reach the need of man, our social
problems would not long defy solution--"nothing would be impossible";
for over the millions of London, and the masses everywhere, there
broods the same great heart of love and longing which prompted the
gracious words, "Come unto Me, _all_ ye that labour and are heavy
laden, and I will give you rest;" and there is not a wretched one in
all the world for whom there is not a blessed ray of hope in this
pathetic wail which still proceeds from the loving heart of Him Who is
the same yesterday and to-day and for ever. "O faithless and perverse
generation, how long shall I be with you? how long shall I suffer
you? _bring him hither to Me._"
"Bring him hither"--this is a work of faith as well as a labour of
love. The Church on earth is in the same position now as were the nine
when the Master was absent from them on the mountain-top. He has
ascended up on high, and the work must be carried on by the members of
His body on the earth; and it is only in proportion to their faith
that any success can attend them in their work.
Is faith, then, all that is necessary? It is: provided it be genuine
living faith. This seems to be the point of the reference to the grain
of mustard seed. The little seed, small as it is, is set in true
relation to the great life-force of Mother Nature, and therefore out
of it by-and-by there comes a mighty tree; and in the same way even
feeble faith, if it be genuine, and therefore set in true relation to
the power of the Father of our spirits, becomes receptive of a force
which in the end nothing can resist. But genuine living faith it must
be: there must be the real opening up of the soul to the Spirit of the
living God, so that the man's nature becomes a channel through which
unobstructed the grace and power of God shall flow. It need scarcely
be remarked that the notion which mistakes faith for mere belief of
certain doctrines is utterly misleading. In nothing is the perversity
of a faithless generation more conspicuous than in the persistency
with which this absurd and unscriptural notion of faith holds its
ground, even with those who are supposed to be leaders of thought in
certain directions. If only that mountain of folly could be cleared
away, there would be a decided brightening of the spiritual outlook;
for then men everywhere would see that the faith which Christ expects
of them, and without which nothing can be accomplished, is no mere
intellectual belief, but the laying open and leaving open of the
entire nature to the Spirit of Christ. Thus spurious dead faith would
be utterly discredited, and genuine living faith would alone be
recognised; and while the first effect would be to disclose the
exceeding scantiness of the Church's faith, the result would be that
even though what stood the test should be small as a grain of mustard
seed, it would have in it such vitality and power that by-and-by it
would become mighty and all-pervading, so that before it mountains
would disappear (ver. 20).
The last words of the paragraph[14] carry us back to the ultimate
necessity for prayer. It is plain that our Lord refers to habitual
prayer. We cannot suppose that these nine disciples had utterly
neglected this duty; but they had failed to live in an atmosphere of
prayer, as was their Master's rule. We may be sure that they had not
prayed at the base of the mountain as their Lord had prayed on the
summit, or they would certainly not have failed in their attempt to
cure the lunatic child. This demand for prayer is not really anything
additional to the faith set forth as the one thing needful. There has
been a good deal of discussion lately as to whether we can think
without words. We shall not presume to decide the question; but it may
safely be affirmed that without words we could not think to any
purpose. And just as the continuance and development of our thinking
is dependent on words, so the continuance and development of our faith
is dependent on prayer. Is not the weak spot of our modern
Christianity just here? In this age of tear and wear, bustle and
excitement, what becomes of prayer? If the amount of true wrestling
with God in the daily life of the average Christian could be
disclosed, the wonder might be, not that he accomplishes so little,
but that God is willing to use him at all.
[12] A touching fulfilment of the Messianic spirit of these prophetic
words: "How shall I give thee up, Ephraim? how shall I deliver thee,
Israel? how shall I make thee as Admah? how shall I set thee as
Zeboim? mine heart is turned within me, my repentings are kindled
together." Compare chap. xi. 21-24.
[13]
"Our wills are ours, we know not how:
Our wills are ours, _to make them Thine_."
[14] They are relegated to the margin in R.V.; but the parallel
passage in St. Mark's Gospel is acknowledged to be genuine.