express our good will to others by exteriour testimonies of respect;
to consult the credit and honour of those we converse with, though at
some expence of our own vanity and self-love. It implies a readiness to
prevent them in the customary decencies of conversation; a facility to
give way to their reasonable pretensions, and even to abate something
of our own just rights. It requires us to suppress our petulant claims
of superiority; to decline all frivolous contests and petty rivalries;
to moderate our own demands of pre-eminence and priority; and, in a
word, to please others, rather than ourselves.
It is an easy, social, conciliating virtue; a virtue made up of
_humility_ and _benevolence_; the _former_, inclining us not to think
more highly of ourselves than we ought; and the _latter_, to give our
Christian brother an innocent satisfaction when we can.
And our obligation to the practice of this virtue is FOUNDED,
II. On the clearest reasons, taken both from the _nature of man_, and
the _genius of our holy Religion_.
And, FIRST, from _the nature of man_.
Among the various principles, some of them, in appearance, discordant
and contradictory, which constitute our common nature, one of the
first to take our attention is, “A conscious sense of dignity;” an
opinion of self-consequence, which mixes itself with all our thoughts
and deliberations; prompting us to entertain lofty sentiments of our
own worth, and aspiring to something like superiority and dominion
over other men. This principle, which appears very early, and is
strongest in the more generous dispositions, is highly necessary to a
being formed for virtuous action; and naturally leads to the exertion
of such qualities as are proper to benefit society, as well as to gain
that ascendency in it, to which we pretend. It is the spring, indeed,
of every commendable emulation; puts in act all our better and nobler
faculties; and gives nerves to that labor and industry, by which every
worthy accomplishment is attained.
But now this principle (so natural and useful), when it is not
checked by others, but is suffered to take the lead and predominate
on all occasions, undisciplined and uncontrolled, easily grows into
a very offensive and hurtful quality: _offensive_, because it is now
exerted to the humiliation of every other, who is actuated by the same
principle; and _hurtful_, because, in this undue degree, it counteracts
the very purpose, _the good of human society_, for which it was
designed.
This quality we know by the name of PRIDE. The other moderate degree
of self-esteem, which is allowable and virtuous, seems not (I suppose,
from its rare appearance under that form) to have acquired in our
language a distinct name.
To _Pride_, then, the pernicious and too common issue of self-love, it
became necessary, that some other principle should be opposed. And such
a principle, as is proper to correct the malignity of pride, we find in
that _philanthropy_, which, by an instinct of the same common nature,
disposeth us to consult the happiness, and to conciliate to ourselves
the good will and affection, of mankind. This benevolent movement of
the mind is, further, quickened by the mutual interest all men have
in the exercise of it. For Pride is disarmed by submission; and, by
receding from our own pretensions, we take the most likely way to
moderate those of other men. Thus, the generous affections are kept in
play; reciprocal civilities are maintained; and, by the habit of _each
preferring other_, which prudence would advise, if instinct did not
inspire, the peace of society is preserved, its joy encreased, and even
our vanity, so far as it is a just and natural affection, gratified and
indulged.
The reason of the Apostolic precept is, then, laid deep in the
constitution of human nature; which is so wonderfully formed, that its
_perfection_ requires the reconciliation of contrary qualities; and
its _happiness_ results from making benevolence itself subservient to
self-love.
2. If, from the philosophic consideration of man, we turn to the
_genius of the Gospel_, we shall there find this conclusion of natural
reason strengthened and confirmed by evangelical motives.
Benevolence, which, in the Gospel, takes the name of _Charity_, hath
a larger range in this new dispensation, than in that of nature. The
doctrine, and still more the example, of Jesus, extends the duty of
humility and self-denial; requires us to make ampler sacrifices of
self-love, and to give higher demonstrations of good-will to others,
than mere reason could well demand or enforce. He, that was so far
from _seeking his own_, that he _emptied himself of all his glory_,
and stooped from heaven to earth, for the sake of man, hath a right
to expect, from his followers, a more than ordinary effort to conform
to so divine a precedent, a peculiar attention to the mutual benefits
and concerns of each other. It is but little that we keep within
some decent bounds our aspiring tempers and inclinations: we are now
to _subject_ ourselves to our Christian brethren; to renounce even
our innocent and lawful pretensions; and to forego every natural
gratification, when the purposes of Christian Charity call us to this
arduous task.
For the Gospel, it is to be observed, has taken us out of the loose
and general relation of men, and has bound us together in the closer
and more endearing tie of _Brethren_: it exalts the good-will, we
were obliged to bear to the species, into the affection, which
consanguinity inspires for the individuals of a private family. The
Apostle, therefore, in the words preceding the text, bids us—_be
kindly affectioned one to another with_ BROTHERLY LOVE—not, with the
_love_, that unites one _man_ with another[72], which is the highest
pretension of mere morality; but with the _love_, that knits together
natural _brethren_[73], which is the proper boast and character of
evangelical love. The words of the original have a peculiar energy[74].
They express that instinctive warmth of affection, which nature puts
into our hearts for our nearest kindred, such as communicate with us by
the participation of one common blood.
So that the same compliances, we should make with _their_ inclinations,
the same preference, we should give to _their_ humour and interest
above our own, should now be extended and exercised towards all
Christians; and that principle of an ardent affection, by which we are
led to make the most chearful condescensions to our _natural_ brother,
should work in us the same generous consideration of our _spiritual_
brother, _for whom Christ died_.
Having explained the _nature_ of this duty, and the _grounds_, both in
reason and religion, on which it rests, it now remains,
III. To provide for the RIGHT APPLICATION of it in practice. And here,
in truth, the whole difficulty lies.
It is evident enough, I suppose, from what has been said, That the
moral and Christian duty of _preferring one another in honour_,
respects only social peace and charity, and terminates in the good and
edification of our Christian brother. Its use is, to soften the minds
of men, and to draw them from that savage rusticity, which engenders
many vices, and discredits the virtues themselves. But when men had
experienced the benefit of this complying temper, and further saw the
ends, not of charity only, but of SELF-INTEREST, that might be answered
by it; they considered no longer its just purpose and application,
but stretched it to that officious sedulity, and extreme servility of
adulation, which we too often observe and lament in polished life.
Hence, that infinite attention and consideration, which is so rigidly
exacted, and so duly paid, in the commerce of the world: hence, that
prostitution of mind, which leaves a man no will, no sentiment,
no principle, no character; all which disappear under the uniform
exhibition of good-manners: hence, those insidious arts, those studied
disguises, those obsequious flatteries, nay, those affected freedoms,
in a word, those multiplied and nicely-varied forms of insinuation
and address; the direct aim of which may be to acquire the fame of
politeness and good-breeding; but the certain effect, to corrupt every
virtue, to sooth every vanity, and to inflame every vice, of the human
heart.
These fatal mischiefs introduce themselves under the pretence
and semblance of that _humanity_, which the text encourages and
enjoins. But the _genuine_ virtue is easily distinguished from the
_counterfeit_, and by the following plain _signs_.
1. TRUE POLITENESS is modest, unpretending, and generous. It appears as
little as may be; and, when it does a courtesy, would willingly conceal
it. It chuses silently to forego its own claims, not officiously to
withdraw them. It engages a man to _prefer his neighbour to himself_,
because he really esteems him; because he is tender of his reputation;
because he thinks it more manly, more Christian, to descend a little
himself, than to degrade another—It respects, in a word, the _credit
and estimation_ of his neighbour.
The mimic of this amiable virtue, FALSE POLITENESS, is, on the
other hand, ambitious, servile, timorous. It affects popularity; is
solicitous to please, and to be taken notice of. The man of this
character does not offer, but obtrude, his civilities: _because_ he
would merit by this assiduity; because, in despair of winning regard
by any worthier qualities, he would be sure to make the most of this;
and, lastly, because of all things he would dread, by the omission of
any punctilious observance, to give offence.—In a word, this sort
of politeness respects, for its immediate object, the _favour and
consideration_ of our neighbour.
2. Again: the man, who governs himself by the _spirit_ of the Apostle’s
precept, expresses his _preference of another_ in such a way as
is worthy of himself: in all innocent compliances, in all honest
civilities, in all decent and manly condescensions.
On the contrary, the man of the world, who rests in the _letter_ of
this command, is regardless of the _means_, by which he conducts
himself. He respects neither his own dignity, nor that of human
nature. Truth, reason, virtue, all are equally betrayed by this supple
impostor. He assents to the errors, though the most pernicious; he
applauds the follies, though the most ridiculous; he sooths the vices,
though the most flagrant, of other men. He never contradicts, though
in the softest form of insinuation; he never disapproves, though by
a respectful silence; he never condemns, though it be only by a good
example. In short, he is sollicitous for nothing, but by some studied
devices to hide from others, and, if possible, to palliate to himself,
the grossness of his illiberal adulation.
3. Lastly, we may be sure, that the _ultimate_ ENDS, for which these
different _objects_ are pursued, and by so different _means_, must also
lie wide of each other.
Accordingly, the truly polite man would, by all proper testimonies of
respect, promote the credit and estimation of his neighbour, _because_
he sees, that, by this generous consideration of each other, the peace
of the world is in a good degree preserved; _because_ he knows that
these mutual attentions prevent animosities, soften the fierceness of
men’s manners, and dispose them to all the offices of benevolence and
charity; _because_, in a word, the interests of society are best served
by this conduct; and _because_ he understands it to be his duty, _to
love his neighbour_.
The falsely polite, on the contrary, are anxious by all means whatever,
to procure the favour and consideration of those they converse with,
_because_ they regard ultimately nothing more than their private
interest; _because_ they perceive, that their own selfish designs are
best carried on by such practices: in a word, _because_ they _love
themselves_.
Thus we see, the genuine virtue consults the honour of others by worthy
means, and for the noblest purpose; the counterfeit, sollicits their
favour by dishonest compliances, and for the basest end.
By such evident marks are these two characters distinguished from each
other! and so impossible it is, without a wilful perversion of our
faculties, to mistake in the application of the Apostle’s precept!
It follows, you see, from what has been said, “that integrity of heart,
as Solomon long since observed, is the best guide in morals[75].” We
may impose upon others by a shew of civility; but the deception goes no
farther. We cannot help knowing, in our own case, if we be ingenuous,
when this virtue retains its nature, and when it degenerates into the
vice that usurps its name. To conclude, an honest man runs no risk in
being polite. Let us only _respect_ ourselves; and we shall rarely do
amiss, when, as the Apostle advises, _in honour we prefer one another_.
SERMON X.
PREACHED MAY 6, 1770.
JOHN xiii. 8.
—_Jesus answered him, If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with
me._
To comprehend the full meaning of these words (which, as we shall
see, are of no small importance) we must carefully attend to the
circumstances of the history, which gave occasion to them.
The chapter begins thus—_Now before the feast of the Passover, when
Jesus knew that his hour was come, that he should depart out of this
world to the Father, having loved his own, which were in the world, he
loved them to the end._—
We are prepared by these words to expect something, on the part of our
Lord, very expressive of his love for his Disciples.
The _season_, too, is critical, and must excite our attention: _it was
before the feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour was
come, that he should depart out of this world to the Father_; in other
words, just before his crucifixion.
There is, indeed, some difficulty in fixing the precise time, when
the transaction, now to be related, happened. I take no part in the
disquisition, because it is not material to my purpose, and would
divert me too much from it. It is enough to say, that it was at most,
but the evening before the Paschal supper was celebrated, and therefore
but two days before Jesus suffered.
The history proceeds—“_And supper being ended_ (or rather, as the text
should have been translated, _the time of supper being come_[76]) _the
Devil having now put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon’s son,
to betray him, Jesus knowing that the Father had given all things into
his hands, and that he was come from God and went to God; he riseth
from supper, and laid aside his garments, and took a towel and girded
himself. After that, he poureth water into a bason, and began to wash
the Disciples feet, and to wipe them with the towel wherewith he was
girded._”
Thus far all is clear. Jesus condescended to _wash the feet of his
Disciples_; a ministry, very common in the East, and usually performed
by servants, in discharge of their duty towards their masters, or, by
inferiors, at least, in testimony of respect towards their superiors;
as is abundantly plain from many instances.
This then was ONE end of this _washing_. Our Saviour meant it as a
lesson of humility and condescension to his Disciples. But was it the
ONLY, or the _chief_ end? That is the point we are now to consider.
Let it be remembered, then, that nothing was more familiar with the
Jews, than to convey an information to others, especially if that
information was of importance, by natural, rather than artificial
signs, I mean by _deeds_, rather than _words_; as every one knows,
who has but dipped into the history and writings of the Old and New
Testament. The transaction before us, if understood _only_ as a lesson
of humility, is a lesson conveyed to the Disciples in this form[77].
Now, this way of _information by action_ was occasionally made to serve
TWO contrary purposes: either to give more force and emphasis to an
instruction; or, to cloathe it with some degree of obscurity, or even
ambiguity. For _actions_, speaking to the eye, when the purpose of
them is by any means clearly ascertained, convey the most lively and
expressive information: on the other hand, when it is not, they are
somewhat obscure, one thing being to be collected by us from another:
or the information is even ambiguous, as the action may signify more
things than one.
Sometimes, the primary sense is declared, or easily understood; while,
yet, a secondary sense, a less apparent one, but more momentous, is,
also, intended.
This, upon inquiry, may be the case before us. Christ’s _washing the
feet of his Disciples_ obviously conveys this instruction, which is
asserted, too, in express words—that, _as he, their Lord and master,
washed their feet, so they ought also to wash one another’s feet_[78].
But _another_, and far more important, instruction _may_ be conveyed
in this action, though it be not so fully and explicitly declared. It
_may_, I say, be conveyed: from laying all circumstances together,
we shall be able to form a judgment, whether it were, indeed, in the
Agent’s _intention_ to convey it.
_First_, as I said, the narrative of this transaction (which, take it
as you will, was clearly designed to be an _information by action_) is
prefaced in a very extraordinary manner. _Jesus, knowing that his hour
was come—knowing too that the Father had given all things into his
hands, and that he was come from God, and went to God_, proceeded—to
do what? Why, to give his disciples a lesson of humility and charity,
in washing their feet. The Lesson, no doubt, was important; and
becoming the character of their divine master. But does it rise up to
those _ideas_ of importance, which we are prepared to entertain of an
action, performed at such a time, and so awfully introduced? _His hour
was come—the Father had given all things into his hands—he came from
God, and was now going to God._ All this announces something beyond
and above a common lecture of morality; something, which might be a
suitable close to the instructions of such a teacher.
Let us see, _next_, how the action is received. One of the disciples,
Peter, surprized at his Lord’s condescension, says very naturally,
_Lord, dost thou wash my feet?_ Jesus, to remove his scruples, replies,
_What I do, thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter_. The
words are ambiguous, and may mean, “Thou shalt know, _immediately_,
from the explication I am about to give of this action;” or, “thou
shalt know _hereafter_, in due time, and by other means,” what the
purport of it is. Still Peter, not satisfied with this answer, but
confounded at the apparent indignity of Christ’s condescension, replies
resolutely, _Thou shalt never wash my feet_. This resistance was to be
overcome, that the _information_, whatever it was, might take place,
by the performance of that which was the vehicle of it. Jesus answers,
therefore, more directly and solemnly, IF I WASH THEE NOT, THOU HAST
NO PART WITH ME—Which words, whether understood by Peter or not, were
clearly seen to have _some_ meaning of the last concern to him; and,
struck with this apprehension, he submits.
But what! taking these oracular words, in the sense only in which Jesus
thought fit to explain them, we hardly see the force and propriety of
them. For, had Peter _no part with Jesus_, that is, was he incapable of
receiving any benefit from him, unless he had this ceremony of washing,
performed upon him, when that ceremony had no further use or meaning,
than to convey a moral lesson? If he had not learnt _this_ lesson from
Christ, he might have learnt many _others_: or, he might have learnt
_this_, some other way: and taking it in either light, he might still
be said to _have some part_ with Jesus, though he had not been _washed_
by him.
The true import, then, of these enigmatic words, and of the whole
transaction which is here recorded, begins to appear, and is further
opened by the sequel of Peter’s conversation with Jesus. For,
understanding, that this _ablution_ was, some way so necessary to him,
Peter subjoins, _Not my feet only, but also my hands and my head_.
Jesus saith to him, _He that is washed, needeth not, save to wash his
feet, and is clean every whit; and ye are clean, but not all; for he
knew who should betray him: therefore said he, Ye are not all clean_.
It was, we see, the uncleanness of sin, or the _filth of an evil
conscience_, which was to be taken away by this washing. More than a
single moral lesson, how excellent soever, was, therefore, couched in
this act; indeed, the necessity and efficacy of CERTAIN MEANS, by which
mankind were, in general, to be cleansed from sin, was that which was
ultimately and mainly signified by it. He that was _thus washed, was
clean every whit_; and the _information_ of this benefit being the end
of the washing, it was enough if that was conveyed by washing any one
part.
You see at length to what all this tends. Jesus, knowing the secret
treachery of Judas, and, by the divine spirit which was in him,
foreseeing the destined effect of that treachery; knowing, that he
was now, forthwith, to suffer death upon the cross, the purpose, for
which he came from God, and for the execution of which he only waited
before he returned to him; considering, withal, the immense benefit,
which was to accrue to mankind from his voluntary devotion of himself
to this death, and that the eternal Father, for the sake of it, _had
given all things into his hands_, had given him the power to redeem all
the sons of Adam from the vassalage of sin and death, by virtue of that
BLOOD which he was now to pour out upon the cross, as a propitiation
for them; Jesus, I say, foreseeing and considering all this, chose
this critical season, when _his hour was now come_, to signify by the
ceremony of washing his disciples feet[79], the efficacy and value of
his own precious blood, by which alone they, and all mankind, were to
have all their sins purged and washed away for ever.
This was apparently the momentous instruction, which it was our Lord’s
purpose to convey in this transaction. He would, _first_, shew that
we were to be washed in his blood; and _then_, subordinately, that we
were to follow his example in a readiness _to do as he had done_; that
is, not only to _wash_ each other, but, emblematically still, to lay
down our lives and pour out our blood, if need be, for the sake of the
brethren. All circumstances concur to assure us, that such was the
real secret intent of this mysterious washing; and thus, at length, we
understand the full purport of those words—_If I wash thee not, thou
hast no part with me_[80].
If it be still said, that Jesus explains his own purpose differently,
it is enough to reply, that these emblematic actions were generally
significative of more things, than one; and that the manner of Jesus
was, on other occasions, to enforce that instruction, which was not
the primary one in his intention[81]: the reason of which conduct was
founded in this rule, so constantly observed by him, of conveying
information to his disciples, only, _as they were able to bear
it_[82]. In a word, he gave them many instructions, and _this_, among
the rest, darkly and imperfectly, because they could not then bear a
stronger light; but yet with such clearness as might, afterwards, let
them into his purpose; leaving it to the Holy Ghost (whose peculiar
province it was) to illuminate their minds, in due time; to reveal
all that had been obscurely intimated; and to open the full meaning
of his discourses and actions, as well as to _bring them all to their
remembrance_[83].
From this memorable part of the Gospel-history, thus opened and
explained, we may draw some important conclusions.