(Good Friday, 1860.)
1 Corinthians i. 23-25. But we preach Christ crucified, unto the
Jews a stumbling-block, and unto the Greeks foolishness; but unto
them which are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of
God, and the wisdom of God. Because the foolishness of God is wiser
than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men.
The foolishness of God? The weakness of God? These are strange
words. But they are St. Paul's words, not mine. If he had not said
them first, I should not dare to say them now.
But what do they mean? Can God be weak? Can God be foolish? No,
says St. Paul. Nothing less. For so strong is God, that his very
weakness, if he seems weak, is stronger than all mankind. So wise
is God, that his very foolishness, if he seems foolish, is wiser
than all mankind.
Why then talk of the weakness of God, of the foolishness of God, if
he be neither weak nor foolish? Why use words which seem
blasphemous, if they are not true?
I do not say these ugly words for myself. St. Paul did not say
these ugly words for himself. But men have said them; too many men,
and too often. The Jews, who sought after a sign, said them in St.
Paul's time. The Corinthian Greeks, who sought after wisdom, said
them also. There are men who say them now. We all are tempted at
times to say them in our hearts. As often as we forget Good Friday,
and what Good Friday means, and what Good Friday brought to all
mankind, we do say them in our hearts; and charge God--though we
should not like to confess it even to ourselves--with weakness and
with folly.
Now, how is this? Let us consider, first, how it was with these
Jews and Greeks.
Why did the cross of Christ, and the message of Good Friday, seem to
them weakness and folly? Why did they answer St. Paul, 'Your Christ
cannot be God, or he would never have allowed himself to be
crucified?'
The Jews required a sign; a sign from heaven; a sign of God's power.
Thunder and earthquakes, armies of angels, taking vengeance on the
heathen; these were the signs of Christ which they expected. A
Christ who came in such awful glory as that, they would accept, and
follow, and look to him to lead them against the Romans, that they
might conquer them, and all the nations upon earth. And all that
St. Paul gave them, was a sign of Christ's weakness. 'He was
despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with
grief. . . . He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows, yet
we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. He was
oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is
brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her
shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth.' Then said the Jews--
This is no Christ for us, this weak, despised, crucified Christ.
Then answered St. Paul--Weak? I tell you that what seems to you
weakness, is the very power of God. You Jews wish to conquer all
mankind: and behold, instead, you yourselves are rushing to ruin
and destruction: but what you cannot do, Christ on his cross can
do. Weak, shamed, despised, dying man as he seemed, he is still
conqueror; and he will conquer all mankind at last, and draw all men
to himself. Know that what seems to you weakness, is the very power
of God; the power of doing good, and of suffering all things, that
he may do good: and that _that_ will conquer the world, when riches
and glory, and armies, aye, the very thunder and the earthquake,
have failed utterly.
The Greeks, again, sought after wisdom. If St. Paul was (as he
said) the apostle of God, then they expected him to argue with them
on cunning points of philosophy; about the being of God, the nature
of the world and of the soul; about finite and infinite, cause and
effect, being and not being, and all those dark questions with which
they astonished simple people, and gained power over them, and set
up for wise men and teachers to their own profit and glory,
pampering their own luxury and self-conceit. And all St. Paul gave
them, seemed to them mere foolishness. He could have argued with
these Greeks on those deep matters; for he was a great scholar, and
a true philosopher, and could speak wisdom among those who were
perfect: but he would not. He determined to know nothing among
them but Jesus Christ, and him crucified; and he told them, You
disputers of this world, while you are deceiving simple souls with
enticing words of man's wisdom and philosophy, falsely so called,
you are trifling away your own souls and your hearers' into hell.
What you need, and what they need, is not philosophy, but a new
heart and a right spirit. Sin is your disease; and you know that it
is so, in the depth of your hearts. Then know this, that God so
loved you, sinners as you are, that he condescended to become mortal
man, and to give himself up to death, even the shameful and horrible
death of the cross, that he might save you from your sins; and he
that would be saved now, let him deny himself, and take up his cross
and follow him. And to that, those proud Greeks answered,--That is
a tale unworthy of philosophers. The Cross? It is a death of
shame--the death of slaves and wretches. Tell your tale to slaves,
not to us. To give himself up to the death of the cross is
foolishness, and not the wisdom which we want. Then answered St.
Paul and said,--True. The cross is a slave's and a wretch's death;
and therefore slaves and wretches will hear me, though you will not.
'For you see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men
after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called: but
God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the
wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound
the things which are mighty; and base things of the world, and
things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which
are not, to bring to nought things that are: that no flesh should
glory in his presence.' For the foolishness of God is wiser than
all the wisdom of men. You Greeks, with all your philosophy and
your wisdom, have been trying, for hundreds of years, to find out
the laws of heaven and earth, and to set the world right by them;
and you have not done it. You have not found out the secrets of the
world. You have not set the world right. You have not even set
your own hearts and lives right. But what your seeming wisdom
cannot do, the seeming foolishness of Christ on his cross will do.
Does it seem to you foolish of him, to believe that he could save
the world, by giving himself up to a horrible and shameful death?
Does it seem to you foolishness in me, to preach nothing but him
crucified, and to say, Behold God dying for men? Then know, that
what seems to you foolishness, is the very wisdom of God. That God
knows the secret of touching, convincing, and converting the hearts
of men, though you do not. That God knows how the world is made,
and how to set it right, though you do not. That God knows the law
which keeps all heaven and earth in order, though you do not; and
that that law is charity,--self-sacrificing love, which shines out
from the cross of Christ. Know, that when all your arguments and
philosophies have failed to teach men what they ought to do, one
earnest penitent look at Christ upon his cross will teach them.
That their hearts will leap up in answer, and cry, If this be God, I
can believe in him. If this be God, I can trust him. If this be
God, I can obey him. That one look at Christ upon his cross will
make them--what you could never make them--new men, filled with a
new thought; the thought that God is love, and that he who dwelleth
in love, dwelleth in God, and God in him; and that the poor slaves
and wretches, whom you despise, will look unto the cross and be
saved, and become new men, and lead new lives, and rise to be saints
and martyrs to God and to his Christ, giving themselves up to
torments and death, as Christ did before them; and that out of them
shall spring that church of Christ, which shall reign over all the
world, when you and your philosophies have crumbled into dust.
My friends, let us look, earnestly, humbly, and solemnly this day,
at Christ upon his cross. Let us learn that love, the utter self-
sacrificing love which Christ shewed on his cross, is stronger than
all pomp and might, all armies, riches, governments; aye, that it is
the very power of God, by which all things consist, which holds
together heaven and earth and all that is therein.
Let us learn that love, the utter self-sacrificing love which Christ
shewed on his cross, is wiser than all arguments, doctrines,
philosophies, whether they be true or false; aye, that it is the
very wisdom of God, by which he convinces and converts all hearts
and souls; and let us look to the cross, and see there the wisdom of
God, and the power of God, mighty to save to the uttermost all who
come through Christ to him.
And let us remember this, that whenever we fancy ourselves to be
strong and powerful, and think to aggrandize ourselves at our
neighbour's expense, and to crush those who are weaker than
ourselves, then we are forgetting the lesson of Good Friday; that
whenever we fancy that the way to be wise is, to use our wit and our
knowledge for our own glory, and by them to manage our fellow-men,
and make them admire us and bow down to us, then we forget the
lesson of Good Friday. For whosoever gives himself up to selfish
ambition, or to selfish cunning, charges Christ upon his cross with
weakness and with foolishness, and denies the Lord who bought him
with his blood.
My friends, I have no more to say. Much more I might say. For Good
Friday has many other meanings, and all the sermons of a lifetime
would not exhaust them all.
But one thing seemed to me fit to be said, and I say it again, and
entreat you to carry it home with you, and live by the light of it
all the year round.
Do you wish to be powerful? Then look at Christ upon his cross; at
what seems to men his weakness; and learn from him how to be strong.
Do you wish to be wise? Then look at Christ upon the cross; and at
what seemed to men his folly; and learn from him how to be wise.
For sooner or later, I hope and trust, you will find that true,
which St. Buonaventura (wise and strong himself) used to say,--That
all the learning in the world had never taught him so much as the
sight of Christ upon the cross.