speaking to those Jews who believed on Him:--'_I know that ye are
Abraham's seed; yet ye seek to kill me, because my word hath no place
in you_.' These, it will be said, were not the men who were seeking to
kill Him; they had confessed His authority; His word, it is admitted,
had made its power felt by them. I will not evade the objection by
saying, that so far as these men took their stand upon their position
as Abraham's children, so far it might fairly be said to them: 'You
see what Abraham's children do; their parentage does not save them
from this crime.' I believe that is _not_ the meaning of the charge,
or at any rate that it is only one very small part of the meaning. I
think our Lord was speaking to the consciences of those whom He
addressed of a sin of which _they_ had been guilty. I think that if
those consciences had been aroused to _confess_ His power--in some
measure to own His goodness--they will have been more ready than any
other to own the charge; and if they did not own it, to be stung by
it. They had not participated, it is probable, in the plots of the
Scribes and Pharisees to put Jesus to death. They might not then, they
might not afterwards, take up a stone to cast at Him. But why were
those plots conceived? why were those stones raised? To get rid of a
Judge and a Reprover; to put out a light which was shining into the
heart, and making its darkness visible; to destroy the Son of Man, the
King of man; that each man might be his own king--might live
undisturbed by any obligations to his fellow-men; to destroy the Son
of God,--the witness of God's truth and God's love; that men might
claim the inheritance as theirs,--that they might take credit to
themselves for all goodness and truth, and give themselves no credit
for their wickedness and lies. Now, did not each one of those to whom
Jesus spoke, know inwardly that he had sought to put out the light
that was shining into him,--to kill his Judge and Reprover? The living
Word was there,--the Son was claiming to be the Lord of the house. But
He was not allowed His place there. A certain sense there was of His
presence. Certain acts of homage were rendered to Him. But He was not
permitted to reign. They would find a divided allegiance more and more
impossible. The good Lord or the evil must be absolute. The one who
was rejected must be slain.
At each turn, this conversation becomes more profound and awful. The
next verse leads us into a depth into which we may well tremble to
look, and yet from which it is most unsafe to turn away:--'_I speak
that which I have seen with my Father: and ye do that which ye have
seen with your father_.' Jesus had spoken of His Father as the root of
all His loving acts,--of the wisdom, and truth, and love which were
expressed in His words and in Himself. If there is a root to which all
good that appears in a human life can be referred, must there not be a
source to which all evil is referred? Can it be the same? If healing,
restoration, life, are from the Father of Jesus, from what father come
murderous thoughts,--the wish to destroy the Son of Man?
To fly from any thought which presses closely upon the conscience to
some external truism,--even if it is one which has been proved to be
inapplicable,--is the ordinary desire of us all. '_They answered and
said unto Him, Abraham is our father. Jesus saith unto them, If ye
were Abraham's children, ye would do the works of Abraham. But now ye
seek to kill me, a man that hath told you the truth, which I have
heard of God: this did not Abraham._' The question is about the
paternity of certain purposes in their minds. These purposes were near
to them, to their very selves. They determined their acts and their
habits. Did they take _these_ by descent from the father of the
faithful? Were these his progeny? Of course, they would have answered,
as many of us would have answered, 'That is using words in a double
sense. You mean one kind of fatherhood, we mean another.' No! it was
they who were guilty of this duplicity. They were calling Abraham
their father, in the notion that they were deriving some _spiritual_
privileges from him. If they only intended that they could trace up
their pedigree, according to the flesh, to him, let them say that
frankly to themselves. It was just what our Lord was urging them, in
this part of His conversation, to do. But if he was their parent in
any other sense, then let them remember what he was, what he did. The
living and true God spake to him, and called him. He heard the voice;
he yielded to it. That same voice was speaking to them. He was
'_telling them the truth_;' and therefore '_they sought to kill Him_.'
He repeats, then, the former words,--'_Ye do the deeds of your
father_.' And now they ventured what sounds a bold defence:--'_Then
said they to Him, We be not born of fornication; we have one Father,
even God_.' Had they not a right to say so? Were they not almost
quoting the words of Malachi? What is more, were they not using the
very words of Jesus? Had He not spoken to publicans and sinners,--to
the very outcasts of the people,--of a Father who was seeking to bring
home the prodigal son, as the shepherd went after the lost sheep?
Would He deny to any Israelite the right to claim God as his Father?
What had He taken flesh for, but that He might assert that claim, not
for Israelites only, but for men? Alas! brethren, we can understand
too well what the Jews understood when they used this language, '_We
have one Father, even God_,' because we are continually using the like
ourselves. How commonly do we say, 'Oh, yes; in a general sense, all
of us are God's children.' That general sense is _no_ sense. The word
'children' is used to signify _creatures_. We say men are His, as we
say the cattle are His. In fact, we attach nearly as little
significance to creation as to fatherhood. How can we, when we think
of God as a mere ultimate explanation of our existence and the
existence of the universe; when the idea of a Father of _spirits_--of
one who has to do first of all with us, because we are spiritual,
voluntary beings--is almost banished from our minds? To say that God
is our Father, or any man's Father, when we conceive of Him as a
distant power,--who ceases to be imaginary only when He puts forth His
wrath,--is to practise a deception upon ourselves. It is a commoner
deception with us than with the Jews, because Jesus has taught us to
say, '_Our Father, which art in heaven_;' and every little Christendom
child learns the words, and, thanks be to God, takes in something of
their inward living sense. But when we become men, that sense which
should have grown brighter and clearer with every day's joy and
sorrow, has become utterly clouded by the world's mists, till the
vision at last fades almost entirely. Then one here and there seizes
the force of the word, discovers that he has really, and not in name,
a Father, to whom he can pour out his whole heart. For a while he
longs to persuade all that they have the same Father,--that they may
cast their burdens upon Him too. He finds a few who understand him.
They associate together; they speak of themselves as believers; they
begin to think that they are God's children, because they believe that
they are. Their ardour to convince men generally that they have a
Father, becomes changed into an ardour to bring men into _their_
society. As that passion increases, other lower and baser passions
increase with it. 'The believer' contracts more and more of those
habits which are of the earth, earthy. He contracts, oftentimes, a
bitterness and a malice which are not of the earth, but come from
beneath. These he gives himself credit for as springing from his zeal
for religion, or he merely pities himself for them as the remains of
indwelling sin. He has not courage to say, 'These spring from another
father, not from the Father in heaven. So far as I identify myself
with them, I become the child of a father in hell.' But he goes on
assuming he is God's child. He tells other men that they are only
children in the secondary signification; that is to say, he cherishes
in them the most dangerous of all falsehoods. He prevents them from
turning to their true Father, and seeking of Him a true and divine
life.
These Jews qualified the assertion, that they were all God's children,
even in the lowest, most unreal, sense of that word. These were so who
'_were not born of fornication_.' Children not born in lawful wedlock
they seem to have thought of as having some dark, infernal parentage.
It must have been most startling to them when the words at last came
forth which appeared to fix that parentage upon themselves.
'_Jesus said unto them, If God were your Father, ye would love me: for
I proceeded forth and came from God; neither came I of myself, but He
sent me. Why do ye not understand my speech? even because ye cannot
hear my word. Ye are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your
father ye will do. He was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not
in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaketh a
lie, he speaketh of his own: for he is a liar, and the father of it.
And because I tell you the truth, ye believe me not. Which of you
convinceth me of sin? And if I say the truth, why do ye not believe
me? He that is of God heareth God's words: ye therefore hear them not,
because ye are not of God._'
The Jews were proud of not worshipping false gods. The true God, then,
what was He? The moment truth confronted them, they shrunk from it.
They were proud of not worshipping evil gods. The good God, then, what
was He? The moment goodness confronted them, they hated it, and wished
to extinguish it. They shrunk from the Man who did not speak His own
words, but God's. They hated the Man who did not show forth His own
goodness, but God's. Whence came this mind in them, this will, this
spirit? Jesus tells them plainly. 'There is a mind, a will, a spirit,
which from the beginning has been a man-slayer--has compassed the
destruction of the man in each man. There is a mind, a will, a spirit,
who has been from the beginning a liar, who would not stand in the
truth.'
I know well--we all know--what use has been made, and is made, and
will be made, of this expression, '_from the beginning_.' 'So, then,'
the objector exclaims, 'there is a second god, another creator, coming
into existence with the good God. If this is not Manichæism, what is?'
The answer is simply an appeal to the words as they appear on the face
of the book,--'_He stood not in the truth_.' There was, then, a truth
to stand in; there was a truth to revolt from. The name 'murderer'
implies a life to be taken away; the name 'liar' implies a
contradiction of that which IS. Yes; it implies that the evil spirit
is this, and _only_ this; it implies that the murderer is the author
of _no_ life; it implies that the liar has called nothing that _is_
into existence. You ask, 'What is Manichæism _but_ this?' I answer,
'It is exactly the reverse of this. It affirms that the evil power
_does_ produce some life; that some part of creation may be ascribed
to him.' And those who shrink from speaking of '_him_'--those who will
not admit a devil at all--do, unawares, let this Manichæism
continually into their thoughts, into their acts, into their words.
They may talk of universal benevolence, but facts are too strong for
them. They meet evil everywhere; they meet it in themselves. They do
not like to say,--'It is an evil will to which I am yielding up my
will. Because men are obeying this evil will, therefore there is
misery and ugliness in this blessed and beautiful world.' They try to
escape from that confession. They talk of evil in nature, of evil in
themselves. Unawares, they have introduced it among the works of the
good God. They have either made Him answerable for it, or they have
said that there is some creator besides Him. The last alternative is
very dreadful; but the former is, it seems to me, infinitely more
dreadful. In accepting what our Lord said to the Jews in this
discourse, I escape from both. I am able solemnly and habitually to
deny that any insect or blade of grass is the devil's work; I am able
to regard the whole universe as very good, even as it was when it came
forth at the call of the divine Word; I am able to declare that
humanity, standing in that divine Word, is still made in the image of
God, as He declared that it was; and that there is no one faculty of
the human soul, no one sense of the human body, which is not good, and
blessed, and holy in God's sight. I am able, at the same time, to look
facts in the face, and confess that sin has entered into the world,
and death by sin; that there has been from the beginning of man's
existence on this earth, and that there still is, a murderer, who is
seeking to sever him from his proper life: that there has been from
the beginning of man's existence upon earth, and that there still is,
a liar, who is seeking to persuade men that God is not all good; that
He is not all true; that He is not the Father of their spirits; that
it is not His will that they should know Him, and be like Him. I can
admit that this liar has been listened to, and is listened to; and
that men may enter into such communion with him--may become so
penetrated with his false and mendacious spirit, that they shall
become in very deed his children, entirely fashioned into his
likeness, understanding no lessons but his. Our Lord speaks of the
Jewish people--of the most religious part of them especially--as
having passed, or as rapidly passing, into this condition. He
declares, in the words which I have taken as my text--and which
embody, I think, some of the deepest lessons of the chapter--that they
could not '_understand His speech_;' that that sounded strange,
monstrous, deranged to them, because they '_could not hear His
word_'--because their hearts and consciences were closed against that
which was every moment knocking and craving for admission there. They
did '_not hear God's words, because they were not of God_'--because
their whole minds and wills were given up to another God, because they
had become Devil-worshippers.
'_Then answered the Jews, and said unto Him, Say we not well that thou
art a Samaritan, and hast a devil? Jesus answered, I have not a devil;
but I honour my Father, and ye do dishonour me. And I seek not mine
own glory: there is one that seeketh and judgeth._'
It is certainly most unfortunate that our translators--who had just
rendered Διάβολος by Devil, in our Lord's discourse--should take the
same word for δαιμόνιον, in the discourse of the Jews. I need not say
that they did not mean what He meant, or anything like what He meant.
They called Him a Samaritan,--evidently alluding to the Samaritan
passion for enchanters. He was a possessed man, like one of those who
appeared so often among the worshippers on Gerizim, and drew so many
disciples after them. The reply of Jesus is, that He had not a dæmon;
that He was speaking the words of no subordinate spirit or angel; that
He was '_honouring His Father_'--Him whom they called their God, the
Father of spirits. He did not seek His own glory, as those did who
came boasting that they were possessed by a spirit or dæmon, of which
no others could partake. He came seeking His Father's glory, promising
to make all partakers of His Spirit.
The next words are only a part of this promise. '_Verily, verily, I
say unto you, If a man keep my saying, he shall never see death._' Why
the translators, who have been careful in adhering to the common
rendering of λόγος thus far, should suddenly have forsaken it here,
and dilute it into 'saying,' I cannot conjecture. Certainly they have
done much to make the whole passage unintelligible by that wilfulness.
_He_ has taken pains to distinguish the _speech_ or _saying_ which
enters the ear from the _word_ which is lodged in the heart, and is to
be cherished there. That His word brings life, because in Him the
Divine Word is Life, He has asserted again and again. When the man
loses his hold on that word, death overtakes him; if he hold it fast,
he is united to that which is stronger than death; and he shall not
taste of death. When it comes to his soul and body, he shall defy it.
He shall rise above it, and they shall be raised with him.
'_Then said the Jews unto Him, Now we know that thou hast a devil.
Abraham is dead, and the prophets; and thou sayest, If a man keep my
saying, he shall never taste of death. Art thou greater than our
father Abraham, which is dead? and the prophets are dead: whom makest
thou thyself? Jesus answered, If I honour myself, my honour is
nothing: it is my Father that honoureth me; of whom ye say, that He is
your God: yet ye have not known Him; but I know Him: and if I should
say, I know Him not, I shall be a liar like unto you: but I know Him,
and keep His saying._'
The sense of eternity, of a relation to the eternal God,--to a Father
of spirits, had almost forsaken these Jews. The sense of time,--of a
series or succession of years,--had displaced every other in their
minds; they could contemplate nothing, except under conditions of
time. To the mere trader,--to him who lives in calculating when so
much money will become due--any conditions, except those of time, seem
impossible. He laughs at those who hint at any other. But the
reverence for ancestry,--the affection that binds us to a family and a
nation, does not belong to time. It brings past and present into
closest proximity; it leaps over distinctions of costume and
circumstance, to claim affinity with the inmost heart of those who
lived generations ago. For all family feeling, and all national
feeling, has its root in a living God; therefore it defies death; it
treats death as only belonging to the individual.
The Jews _knew_ that Jesus had a dæmon, because He spoke of men who
believed His word not tasting of death. For Abraham to them was dead;
the prophets were dead. They had no sense of a life which united them
to Abraham and the prophets; they did not really confess a God who was
a God of the living and not of the dead. Jesus probes this state of
mind to the quick. He tells them first, that it is their want of
knowledge of God which makes what He says incredible to them,--the
lying, atheistical temper which they were cultivating under the name
of religion. Because He knows God,--because He keeps His
word,--because He lives in communion with the truth, therefore His
speech seems to them that of a possessed man.
But he was to seem to them worse than a possessed man before the
dialogue ended.
'_Your father Abraham rejoiced to see my day: and he saw it, and was
glad. Then said the Jews unto Him, Thou art not yet fifty years old,
and hast thou seen Abraham? Jesus said unto them, Verily, verily, I
say unto you, Before Abraham was, I am._'
The Jews, I said, were utterly entangled in thoughts of time. It was
necessary to break these bonds at once and violently asunder. The Word
who had been in the beginning with God, who was the Light of men,
declares that He conversed with Abraham; that Abraham heard His voice;
that Abraham saw His light; that this was the source of all his
gladness. This was the reason why men in after days, who had heard the
same voice, who had seen the same light, could rejoice with
Abraham,--could feel that years did not sever those whom God had made
one. The ears that were dull of hearing, the obtuse mammonized hearts,
were proof against this paradox; it excited only a grin. Then came the
other words,--'_Before Abraham was, I am_.' They were too familiar,
too awful, not to arouse even those who were most petrified by
worldliness and pride. The name which had been spoken in the bush had
been spoken to them! The Man who stood before them was calling Himself
the '_I Am_.' A flash of light broke in upon them. He _had_ meant
this. The blasphemy was now open.
'_Then took they up stones to cast at Him: but Jesus hid Himself, and
went out of the temple, going through the midst of them, and so passed
by._'
And oh, brethren, may the meaning of those words flash upon us too!
May they come to us not as dull sounds, but as if they proceeded fresh
from Him who spoke them then! They do proceed from Him. Each day and
hour He repeats them to us. When all schemes of human policy crack
and crumble; when we discover the utter weakness of the leaders and
teachers we have trusted most; when we begin to suspect that the world
is given over to the spirit of murder and lies; He says to us, 'The
foundations of the universe are not built on rottenness: whatever
fades away and perishes, I AM.'
DISCOURSE XVIII.
THE LIGHT OF THE EYE, AND THE LIGHT OF THE SPIRIT.
[Lincoln's Inn, 2d Sunday after Trinity, June 1, 1856.]
ST. JOHN IX. 39.
_And Jesus said, For judgment I am come into this world, that they
which see not might see; and that they which see might be made blind._
The reading of the last verse of the 8th chapter, which our version
has adopted, connects it directly with the first verse of the 9th.
'_Jesus hid Himself and went out of the temple, going through the
midst of them, and so passed by_ (παρῆγεν οὕτως). _And as He
passed by_ (καὶ παράγων), _He saw a man blind from his birth_.'
Possibly the former verse ought to end at the word '_temple_.' But if
we lose that link between the incidents recorded in the two chapters,
the internal relation between them will remain as strong as ever. The
discourse of Jesus, which we have been considering on the two last
Sundays, began with the sentence, '_I am the light of the world_.'
Every subsequent passage unfolded itself out of this opening one. The
story which forms the subject of this chapter is introduced by the
same announcement. Can we doubt that the words and the act had the
same origin and the same object? Can we safely sever what Christ has
joined together?
I am aware of the motive which induces us to sever them. I have had
occasion to speak of it more than once already, and to acknowledge
that an honest feeling is lurking in it. We are afraid of confounding
what is sensible with what is spiritual. We are afraid of using light
in two senses, and of fancying that they are the same. I complain of
no desire to be religiously accurate in the use of language.
Scrupulosity in this matter is far less dangerous than indifference.
We are in continual peril of falling into confusions and
equivocations; let all our faculties be awake to the risk,--let them
all watch against it. But they will not be awake, they will not watch,
unless they do homage to the fact, that light has been used, is used,
must be used, in every dialect in which men express their thoughts, to
denote that which the eye receives, and that which the mind
receives,--the great energy of the eye, the great energy of the mind.
Instead of repining at this fact, as if it were a hindrance to our
perceptions of truth,--instead of labouring to reconstruct speech
according to some scheme of ours,--instead of fancying that we have
done a good work when we have got a scholastical or technical phrase
substituted for a popular one,--let us earnestly meditate upon the
principle which is latent under these forms of discourse, from which
we cannot emancipate ourselves. Let us thankfully accept them as
proofs that the sensible world and the spiritual, though entirely
distinct, are related; and that the last is not closed any more than
the first against the wayfarer and the child. This, at all events, is
the doctrine which goes through Scripture, and which has made its
words so mighty to those who can understand no others--so full of
relief and discovery to those who do not wish to be separate from
their kind, and who have convinced themselves that the deepest truths
must be the commonest. Such is the doctrine implied in every parable
of our Lord; such, above all, is the doctrine of St. John, who does
not report many parables, but who takes us into the inmost heart of
them, and shows us the divine law which is involved in the use of
them.