overcame his fears. He was not long alone. John says, "Simon Peter
followed Jesus and so did another disciple." We cannot doubt who was
Peter's companion as he turned from his flight. They "went both
together," as two days later they ran on another errand. In the shadows
of the olive-trees along the roadside, or of the houses of the city,
they followed the hurrying band which they overtook by the time it
reached the palace gate. John did not "outrun Peter," who was probably
the leader. But at the gate they were separated.
We must not think that this palace was like an American house. The
entrance to it was through a great arched gateway. This was closed with
a large door or gate, in which there was a small entrance called a
wicket gate, through which people passed. These gates opened into a
broad passage or square court. Around it on three sides the house was
built. All rooms upstairs and down looked into it. One large room,
forming one side, was separated from it, not by a wall, but by a row of
pillars. Being thus opened it was easy to see what was passing in the
room or the court.
"That disciple," who accompanied Peter to the gate, "was known unto the
high priest and entered in with Jesus into the court of the high priest.
But Peter was standing at the door without." John was doubtless familiar
with the place and the servants, and went in with the crowd. He kept as
near as he could to his Master during the dark hours of His trial, as he
was to do during the yet darker hours at the cross.
But the disciple within could not forget the one without. They must not
be separated in their common sorrow. Peter too must show by his presence
his continued love for his Master. He must have opportunity to show in
the palace something of the faithfulness of which he had boasted in the
Upper Room, though it had faltered in Gethsemane.
"Then went out that other disciple which was known unto the high priest
and spake unto her that kept the door, and brought in Peter." That
doorkeeper was not Rhoda--she who with a different spirit joyfully
answered Peter's knocking at another door--but was a pert maiden who,
sympathizing with the enemies of Jesus, "saith unto Peter, Art thou also
one of this man's disciples?" She understood that John was such. Her
contempt was aimed at them both. But it was not her question so much as
Peter's answer--"I am not"--that startled John. Was it for this denial
that he had gained admission for his friend? It would have been better
far if Peter had been kept "standing at the door without" though "it was
cold," than to be brought into the court of temptation and sin, where he
"sat with the servants" in his curiosity "to see the end," warming
himself at the fire they had kindled.
Meanwhile we think of John hastening back to the judgment hall, from
which he anxiously watched the movements of Peter "walking in the
counsel of the ungodly, and standing in the way of sinners, and sitting
in the seat of the scornful."
Poor Peter! He fears to look into any man's face, or to have any one
look into his. He has obeyed the Master's bidding, "Put up thy sword
into the sheath," but Malchus has not forgotten it; nor has his kinsman
who saw Peter in the garden with Jesus,--though he may have forgotten
the healing of Malchus' ear by his prisoner.
Three Evangelists tell how Peter "sat" with the enemies of Jesus. John
tells how at different times he "stood" among them. Thus does he report
as an eye-witness, and show his own watchfulness of Peter's
restlessness;--of the conflicting emotions of shame and fear, the
scornful frown, the enforced and deceiving smile, the defiant look, the
vain effort to appear indifferent, and the storm of anger. Amazed at the
first denial, shocked at the second, horrified at the third, what were
John's feelings when one was "with an oath," and with another "he began
to curse and to swear." But concerning this climax of Peter's sin, John
is silent. It finds no place in his story.
At last "the Lord turned and looked upon Peter," either from the hall,
or as He was being led from it. At the same moment, Peter turned and
looked upon Him. We imagine John turning and looking upon them both,
marking the grief of the one, and the sense of guilt and shame of the
other. But he knew the loving, though erring disciple so well that he
need not be told that when "Peter went out" "he wept bitterly." We
almost see John himself weeping bitterly over his friend's fall; then
comforting him when they met again, with assurances of the Lord's love
and forgiveness. John's next record of their being together shows them
united in feeling, purpose and action for their Lord.
There was another toward whom John's watchful eyes turned during the
long and painful watches of that night. The picture of him is not
complete without this Apostle's records.
"Art thou the King of the Jews?" asked Pilate of Jesus. Such John had
thought Him to be. For three years he had waited to see Him assume His
throne. He has preserved the Lord's answer,--"My kingdom is not of this
world." This declaration contained a truth to which even the favored
disciple had been partly blind. Was he not ready to ask with Pilate,
though with different spirit and purpose, "Art thou a King then?" The
Lord's answer must have meant more to the listening Apostle than to the
captious and heedless Governor. It was a declaration of the true
kingship of the Messiah-King,--"To this end have I been born, and to
this end am I come into the world, that I should bear witness unto the
truth."
"What is truth?" asked Pilate in a careless manner, not caring for an
answer. "What is truth?" was the great question whose answer the Apostle
continued to seek, concerning the King and the kingdom of Him whom He
had heard say, "I am the Truth."
In that night he saw the Messiah-King crowned, but with thorns. He saw
the purple robe upon Him, but it was the cast-off garment of a Roman
Governor. A reed, given Him for a sceptre, was snatched from His hand to
smite Him on His head. Instead of pouring holy oil of kingly
consecration, as upon David's head, His enemies "spit upon Him." It was
in mockery that they bowed the knee before Him saying, "Hail King of the
Jews."
There are two scenes with which John alone has made us familiar. One is
described in these words:--"Then came Jesus forth, wearing the crown of
thorns, and the purple robe. And Pilate saith, Behold the man!" Did not
that word "Behold," recall to John another scene--that on the Jordan
when he looked upon this same Jesus as the Lamb of God, whom His enemies
were about to offer unwittingly, when He offered Himself not unwillingly
a sacrifice upon the cross? The Baptist's exclamation had been in
adoration and joyfulness: Pilate's was in pity and sadness. It was an
appeal to humanity, but in vain. There was no pity in that maddened
throng. Pilate turned in bitterness toward those whom he hated, but
whose evil deeds he did not dare to oppose. So in irony "Pilate ...
brought forth Jesus ... and he saith unto the Jews, Behold your King!"
John was the only one who heard the three cries of "Behold"--one at the
beginning, the others at the close of the Lord's ministry. How much he
had beheld and heard and learned between, concerning "the Lamb," "the
Man," and "the King."
The only earthly throne on which John saw Him sit was one of mockery.
He did not ask to sit with Him. It was a sad yet blessed privilege to be
with Him during that night of agony--the only friendly witness to
probably all of His sufferings. While John's eyes were turned often and
earnestly toward Peter and Pilate, they were yet more on the Lord. When
he went in with Jesus into the palace, and while he tarried with Him, he
could _do_ nothing--only _look_. No angel was there as in Gethsemane to
strengthen the Man of sorrows, but did He not often look for sympathy
toward that one who had leaned lovingly upon Him a few hours before? Was
not John's mere waking presence among His foes in the palace, a solace
which slumber had denied Him in the garden? John's eyes were not heavy
now. There was no need of the Lord's bidding, "Tarry ye here and watch
with Me." Love made him tarry and watch more than "one hour"--even
through all the watches of the night. Then he was the Lord's only human
friend--the one silent comforter.
_CHAPTER XXVI_
_John the Lone Disciple at the Cross_
"When they came unto the place which is called Calvary, there they
crucified Him."--_Luke_ xxiii. 33.
"At Calvary poets have sung their sweetest strains, and artists
have seen their sublimest visions."--_Stalker._
"Now to sorrow must I tune my song,
And set my harp to notes of saddest woe,
Which on our dearest Lord did seize ere long,
Dangers, and snares, and wrongs, and worse than so,
Which He for us did freely undergo:
Most perfect Hero, tried in heaviest plight
Of labors huge and hard, too hard for human wight."
--_Milton.--The Passion._
Even careful students of the life of John are not together in their
attempts to follow him on the day of crucifixion. Some think they find
evidence, chiefly in his silence concerning certain events, that after
hearing the final sentence of Pilate condemning Christ to be crucified,
he left the palace and joined the other disciples and faithful women and
the mother of Jesus, and reported what he had seen and heard during the
night; and at some hour during the day visited Calvary, and returning to
the city brought the women who stood with him at the cross: and
witnessed only what he minutely or only describes. Other students think
he followed Jesus from the palace to the cross, remaining near Him and
witnessing all that transpired. This is certainly in keeping with what
we should expect from his peculiar relation to Christ. It is in harmony
with what we do know of his movements that day. So we are inclined to
follow him as a constant though silent companion of Jesus, feeling that
in keeping near him we are near to his Lord and ours. This we now do in
the "Dolorous Way," along which Jesus is hurried from the judgment-seat
of Pilate to the place of execution.
[Illustration: CHRIST BEARING HIS CROSS _H. Hofmann_ Page 185]
It is John who uses the one phrase in the Gospels which furnishes a
tragic subject for artists, and poets and preachers, on which
imagination dwells, and excites our sympathies as does no other save the
crucifixion itself. His phrase is this,--"Jesus ... bearing the cross
for Himself." We notice this all the more because of the silence of the
other Evangelists, all of whom tell of one named Simon who was compelled
to bear the cross. As John read their story, there was another picture
in his mind, too fresh and vivid not to be painted also. He recalled the
short distance that Christ carried the cross alone, weakened by the
agonies of the garden and the scourging of the palace, until, exhausted,
He fell beneath the burden. We are not told that the crown of thorns
had been removed, though the purple robe of mockery had been. So this
added to His continued pain. As John looked upon those instruments of
suffering he heard the banter and derision of shame that always
accompanied them.
There followed Jesus "a great multitude of the people," whose morbid
curiosity would be gratified by the coming tragedy. But there were
others--"women who bewailed and lamented Him."
It is surmised that at the moment when Jesus could bear His cross no
longer, and was relieved by Simon, He turned to the weeping "Daughters
of Jerusalem" following Him, and in tenderest sympathy told of the
coming days of sorrow for them and their city, of which He had told John
and his companions on Olivet.
John says that Jesus "went out ... unto the place called the place of a
skull, which is called in Hebrew Golgotha." The place was also called
Calvary. We do not certainly know the sacred spot, though careful
students think it is north of the city, near the Damascus gate, near the
gardens of the ancient city, and tombs that still remain. We think of
John revisiting it again and again while he remained in Jerusalem, and
then in thought in his distant home where he wrote of it. "There," says
John, "they crucified Jesus, and with Him two others, on either side
one, and Jesus in the midst." How few his words, but how full of
meaning. We long to know more of John's memories of that day--of all
that he saw and felt and did. They were such in kind and number as none
other than he did or could have.
There were two contrasted groups of four each around the cross, to which
John calls special attention. One, the nearest to it, was composed of
Roman soldiers, to whom were committed the details of the
crucifixion--the arrangement of the cross, the driving of the nails, and
the elevation of the victim upon it.
Having stripped Jesus of His clothing, according to custom they divided
it among themselves; the loose upper garment or toga to one, the
head-dress to another, the girdle to another, and the sandals to the
last. John watched the division--"to every soldier a part." But his
interest was chiefly in the under-garment such as Galilean peasants
wore. This must have been a reminder of the region from which he and
Jesus had come. He thinks it worth while to describe it as "without
seam, woven from the top throughout." Perhaps to him another
reminder--of Mary or Salome or other ministering women by whose loving
hands it had been knit. If ever a garment, because of its associations,
could be called holy, surely it is what John calls "the coat" of Jesus.
Even without miraculous power, it would be the most precious of relics.
We notice John's interest in it as he watches the soldiers'
conversation of banter or pleasantry or quarrel, in which it might
become worthless by being torn asunder. He remembered their parleying,
and the proposal in which it ended,--"Let us not rend it, but cast lots
for it whose it shall be." How far were their thoughts from his when
their words recalled to him the prophecy they were unconsciously
fulfilling,--"They part My garments among them, and upon My vesture do
they cast lots."
With what pity did Jesus look down upon the lucky soldier--so he would
be called--sporting with the coat which had protected Him from the night
winds of Gethsemane. How He longed to see in the bold and heartless
heirs to His only earthly goods, the faith of her, who timidly touched
the hem of His garment. What a scene was that for John to behold! What a
scene for angels who had sung the glories of Jesus' birth, now looking
down upon His dying agonies of shame--and upon the gambling dice of His
murderers! No marvel John added to the almost incredible story, "These
things ... the soldiers did."
It is at this point that we notice a sudden transition in John's
narrative. He points us from the unfriendly group of four, to another of
the same number; saying as if by contrast, "_But_ there were standing by
the cross of Jesus His mother, and His mother's sister, Mary the wife
of Clopas and Mary Magdalene." By "His mother's sister" we understand
Salome.
The centurion had charge of the plundering soldiers; John was the
guardian of the sympathizing women. He had a special interest in that
group, containing his mother and aunt, and probably another relative in
Mary the wife of Clopas. Mary Magdalene was not of this family
connection, though of kindred spirit. So must John have felt as she
stood with him at the cross, and at a later hour when we shall see them
together again.
In the days of the boyhood of John and Jesus, we thought of their
mothers as sisters, and of parents and children as looking for the
coming Messiah. None thought of the possibilities of this hour when they
would meet in Jerusalem at the cross. By it stands John the only one of
the Apostles. Judas has already gone to "his own place." If Peter is
following at all it is afar off. The rest have not rallied from their
flight enough to appear after their flight. James the brother of John is
not with him. As their mother looks upon Jesus between two robbers, does
she recall her ambitious request, "Command that these my two sons may
sit, one on Thy right hand, and one on Thy left hand"? She understands
now the fitness of the reply she had received,--"Ye know not what ye
ask"?
But Salome and John are loyal to the uncrowned King. Though they may
not share the glory of His throne, they are yet ready to stand beneath
the shameful shadow of His cross.
But another is there,--drawn by a yet stronger cord of affection. She
heads John's list of the women "by the cross of Jesus--His mother,"
whose love is so deep that it cannot forego witnessing the sight that
fills her soul with agony. Yes, Mary, thou art there.
"Now by that cross thou tak'st thy final station,
And shar'st the last dark trial of thy Son;
Not with weak tears or woman's lamentation,
But with high, silent anguish, like His own."
--_H.B. Stowe_.
As she stands there we seem to read her thoughts: "Can that be He, my
babe of Bethlehem, my beautiful boy of Nazareth, in manhood my joy and
my hope! Are those hands the same that have been so lovingly held in
mine; those arms, outstretched and motionless, the same that have so
often been clasped around me! Oh! that I might staunch His wounds, and
moisten His parched lips, and gently lift that thorny crown from His
bleeding brow."
But this cannot be. There is being fulfilled Simeon's prophecy, uttered
as he held her infant in his arms,--a foreboding which has cast a
mysterious shadow on the joys of her life.
"Beside the cross in tears
The woeful mother stood,
Bent 'neath the weight of years,
And viewed His flowing blood;
Her mind with grief was torn,
Her strength was ebbing fast,
And through her heart forlorn,
The sword of Anguish passed."
She can only draw yet nearer to His cross and give the comfort of a
mother's look, and perhaps receive the comfort of a look from Him,
and--oh, if it can be--a word of comfort from His lips for the
mother-heart. Perhaps for a moment her thoughts are on the future,--her
lonely life, without the sympathy of her other sons who believed not on
their brother. Oh! that they were like John, to her already more of a
son than they.
In childhood Jesus had been "subject" to her: in youth and manhood He
had been faithful to her. In the Temple He had thought of her as His
mother, and of God as His Father. But no exalted relation, no greatness
to which He had attained on earth, had made Him disloyal to her. While
claiming to be the Son of God, He was still the loving son of Mary. Such
He would show Himself to be on the cross. We thank John for the record
of that moment when "Jesus ... saw His mother." "The people stood
beholding" Him, but His eyes were not on them; nor on those passing by
His cross wagging their heads, nor the malefactor at His side reviling
Him; nor on the chief priest and scribes, the elders and soldiers
mocking Him; nor the rulers deriding Him. His thought was not on them,
nor even on Himself in His agonies, as His eyes rested keenly on His
mother. It was a deep, tender, earnest gaze.
John tells that Jesus also "saw" "the disciples standing by, whom He
loved." The Lord turned His head from His mother to His disciple. This
could be His only gesture pointing them one to the other.
The prayer for His murderers had apparently been uttered when His hands
were pierced, before the cross was raised. He may have spoken once after
it was elevated, before He saw the two special objects of His love. His
eyes met His mother's. She saw Him try to speak. The utterance of His
parched lips, with gasping breath, was brief, full of meaning and
tenderness--"Woman! behold, thy son!" Then turning toward John He said,
"Behold! thy mother!"
In these words Jesus committed His mother to John without asking whether
he would accept the charge.
"From that hour the disciple took her unto his own home." It is a
question whether or not the phrase, "from that hour," is to be taken
literally. It may be that the blessed words, "mother" and "son," were as
a final benediction, after which John led her away, and then returned
to the cross. Or, it may be that the mother-heart compelled her to
witness the closing scenes.
[Illustration: THE VIRGIN AND ST. JOHN AT THE CROSS _Old Engraving_
Page 193]
If we pause long enough to inquire why John was chosen to be trusted
with this special charge, we can find probable answer. Jesus' "brethren"
did not then believe on Him. Mary's heart would go out toward him who
did, especially as he was her kindred as well as of a kindred spirit.
His natural character, loving and lovable, made him worthy of the trust.
Apparently he was better able to support her than were any other of the
Apostles, and perhaps even than her sons. He seems to have been the only
Apostle or relative of Mary who had a home in Jerusalem, where she
certainly would choose to dwell among the followers of the Lord. Above
all John was the beloved disciple of Mary's beloved son. So to him we
can fittingly say:
"As in death He hung,
His mantle soft on thee He flung
Of filial love, and named the son;
When now that earthly tie was done,
To thy tried faith and spotless years
Consigned His Virgin Mother's tears."
--_Isaac Williams_.--Trans. An. Latin Hymn.
Blessed John. When Jesus called His own mother "thy mother," didst thou
not almost hear Him call thee "My brother"?
One tradition says that John cared for Mary in Jerusalem for twelve
years, until her death, before his going to Ephesus. Another tradition
is that she accompanied him thither and was buried there. What a home
was theirs, ever fragrant with the memory of Him whom they had loved
until His death. No incidents in His life, from the hour of brightness
over Bethlehem to that of darkness over Calvary, was too trivial a thing
for their converse. That home in Jerusalem became what the one in
Nazareth had been, the most consecrated of earth. What welcomes there of
Christians who could join with Mary as she repeated her song of
thirty-three years before, "My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit
hath rejoiced in God my Saviour." Of her we shall gain one more distinct
view--the only one.
[Illustration: THE DESCENT FROM THE CROSS _Rubens_ Page 200]
_CHAPTER XXVII_
_John the Lone Disciple at the Cross--Continued_
Three sayings on the cross reported by John:
"Woman, behold, thy son! Behold, thy mother!"
"I thirst."
"It is finished."
--_John_ xix. 26, 27, 28, 30.
Of the seven sayings of Christ on the cross, three are preserved by John
only; one of love, another of suffering, and another of triumph. The
first is that to Mary and John himself. The second is the cry, "I
thirst"--the only one of the seven concerning the Lord's bodily
sufferings. John was a most observing eyewitness, as is shown by the
details of the narrative,--the "vessel _full_ of vinegar," the "sponge
filled with vinegar," and the hyssop on which it was placed, the
movements of the soldiers as they put it to Christ's lips, and the
manner in which He received it. He was willing to accept it to revive
His strength to suffer, when "He would not drink" the "wine mingled with
gall" that would relieve Him from the pain He was willing to endure. The
end was drawing near. The thirst had long continued. He had borne it
patiently for five long hours. Why did He at last utter the cry, "I
thirst"? John gives the reason. A prophecy was being fulfilled, and
Jesus would have it known. It was this: "In My thirst they gave Me
vinegar to drink." So "Jesus, ... that the Scripture might be fulfilled,
saith, 'I thirst.'"
John watched Him as He took His last earthly draught. It was probably of
the sour wine for the use of the soldiers on guard. What varied
associations he had with wine,--the joyful festivities of Cana, the
solemnities of the Upper Room, and the sadness of Calvary.
When Jesus therefore had received the vinegar, He said, "It is
finished." This is the third of the sayings of Jesus on the cross
preserved by John, who was a special witness to the chief doings of his
Lord on the earth. So the declaration meant more to him than to any
other who heard it. Yet it had a fulness of meaning which even he could
not fully know. Jesus' life on earth was finished. He had perfectly
obeyed the commandments of God. The types and prophecies concerning Him
had been fulfilled. His revelation of truth was completed. The work of
man's redemption was done. On the cross He affirmed what John said He
declared in the Upper Room to His Father: "I have glorified Thee on the
earth, having accomplished the work Thou hast given Me to do."
All four Evangelists tell of the moment when Jesus yielded up His life,
but John alone of the act that accompanied it as the signal thereof,
which his observant eye beheld. "He bowed His head,"--not as the
helpless victim of the executioner's knife upon the fatal block, but as
the Lord of Life who had said, "No one taketh it away from Me, but I lay
it down of Myself."
John makes mention of another incident without which the story of the
crucifixion would be incomplete. Mary Magdalene and other loving women
had left the cross, but were gazing toward it as they "stood afar off."
John remained with the soldiers who were watching the bodies of the
crucified. "The Jews, ... that the bodies should not remain upon the
cross upon the Sabbath, asked of Pilate that their legs might be
broken"--to hasten death--"and that they might be taken away." As John
saw the soldiers "break the legs of the first and of the other which was
crucified with" Jesus, with what a shudder did he see them approach His
cross; but what a relief to him when they "saw that He was dead already,
and brake not His legs."
In a single clause John pictures a scene ever vivid in Christian
thought. He knew that Jesus "gave up His spirit" when "He bowed His
head." The executioners pronounced Him dead. "Howbeit one of the
soldiers"--to make this certain beyond dispute--"with a spear pierced
His side, and straightway there came out blood and water." There was now
no pain to excite the Apostle's sympathy, and yet he reports the
incident as being of special importance. He calls attention to the fact
that he was an eye-witness, and that there was something in it that
should affect others as well as himself. He says, "He that hath seen
hath borne witness, and his witness is true; and he knoweth that he
saith true, that ye also may believe." He explains why these incidents
so deeply impressed him. They recalled two prophecies of the Old
Testament. One was this, "A bone of Him shall not be broken." This
reminded John of the Paschal Lamb which should be perfect in body; and
of Jesus as the Lamb of God, by which name He had been called when
pointed out to him as the Messiah. All through life Jesus had been
preserved from accident that would have broken a bone, and in death even
from the intended purpose that would have defeated the fulfilment of the
prophecy.
The other prophecy was this,--"They shall look on Him whom they
pierced." Because of what John saw and tells, we pray in song,
"Let the water and the blood
From Thy riven side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure:
Cleanse me from its guilt and power."
[Illustration: IN THE SEPULCHRE _H. Hofmann_ Page 201]
John once more furnishes a contrast between Jesus' foes and friends. He
says that the Jews asked Pilate that the bodies of the crucified might
be taken away. This was to the dishonored graves of malefactors. John
more fully than the other Evangelists tells of Joseph of Arimathæa who
"besought Pilate that he might take away the body of Jesus"--for
honorable burial. Other Evangelists tell of his being "rich," "a
counsellor of honorable estate," "a good man and a righteous," who "had
not consented to" the "counsel and deed" of the Sanhedrin of which he
was a member, because he "was Jesus' disciple." Mark says, "He boldly
went in unto Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus." He had summoned
courage so to do. Hitherto as John explains he had been "a disciple of
Jesus, but secretly for fear of the Jews." John implies that Joseph was
naturally timid like Nicodemus. As Pilate had delivered Jesus to His
open enemies to be crucified, he delivered the crucified body to Joseph,
the once secret but now open friend. The Jews "led him"--the living
Christ--"away to crucify Him." Joseph "came" and tenderly "took away His
body" from the cross.
"There came also Nicodemus," says John, "he who at the first came to Him
by night." Yes, that night which John could not forget, in which to this
same Nicodemus Jesus made known the Gospel of God's love, manifested in
the gift of His Son whose body in that hour these timid yet emboldened
members of the Sanhedrin took down from the cross. They were sincere
mourners with him who watched their tender care as they "bound it in
linen cloths with the spices" for burial, with no thought of a
resurrection.
Perhaps Joseph and Nicodemus recalled moments in the Sanhedrin when they
whispered together, speaking kindly of Jesus, but were afraid to defend
Him aloud; thus silently giving a seeming consent to evil deeds because
timidity concealed their friendship. But at last the very enmity and
cruelty of His murderers emboldened them as they met at the cross.
It is John who tells us that Jesus the night before His crucifixion went
"where was a garden into which He entered," and who also says, "Now in
the place where He was crucified there was a garden." The one was ever
more suggestive to him of a coming trial; the other of that trial past.
"There," in the garden--probably that of Joseph--John says "they laid
Jesus." There also were laid John's hopes, which seemed forever buried
when Joseph "rolled a great stone to the door of the sepulchre, and
departed." What a contrast in his thoughts and feelings between the
rolling _away_ of the stone from the tomb of Lazarus, and the rolling
_to_ that of Jesus. The one told him of resurrection; but the other of
continued death; for as he afterward confessed, "as yet" he and Peter
"knew not that Jesus must rise from the dead."
Two mourners at least lingered at the closed tomb. "Mary Magdalene was
there, and the other Mary, sitting over against the sepulchre" of their
Lord, after they "beheld where He was laid." John's parting from them at
that evening hour was in sadness which was to be deepened when he met
Mary Magdalene again.
It is not easy for us to put ourselves in the place of John, as he turns
from the tomb toward his lonely home. _We_ know what happened afterward,
but he did not know what would happen, though his Lord had tried to
teach him. He is repeating to himself the words he had heard from the
cross, "It is finished," but he is giving them some difference of
meaning from that which Jesus intended. He is walking slowly and sadly
through the streets of Jerusalem, dimly lighted by the moon that shone
in Gethsemane the night before upon him and his living Lord. We imagine
him saying to himself:--"Truly it is finished: all is over now. How
disappointed I am. I do not believe He intended to deceive me, yet I
have been deceived. From early childhood I looked, as I was taught to
do, for the coming of the Messiah. On Jordan I thought I had found Him.
He chose me for one of His twelve, then one of the three, then the one
of His special love. What a joy this has been, brightening for three
years my hopes and expectations. I have seen Him work miracles, even
raising the dead. I have seen Him defeat the plots of evil men against
Him, and did not believe any power on earth could destroy Him. I have
watched to see Him the great and glorious King. But to-day instead of
this I have seen Him crucified as the feeblest and worst of men. I do
remember now how Moses and Elijah, when we were with them on the Holy
Mount, talked with Him of 'His departure which He was about to
accomplish at Jerusalem.' But I did not understand them, nor even
Himself when, just before we ascended the Mount, He told us 'how that He
must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things, ... and be killed.' I do
not wonder that Peter then said to Him, 'Be it far from Thee, Lord,'
though the Lord was right in rebuking him. Can it be only last night He
said, 'Tarry with Me.' How gladly would I do it now. But He is dead, and
buried out of my sight. Oh that I might see Him rise, as I did the
daughter of Jairus. Oh that I might roll away the stone from His tomb as
I helped to do from that of Lazarus, and see Him come forth. How gladly
would I 'loose Him' from His 'grave-bands' and remove the 'napkin bound
about His face.' I know it was a mean and shameful taunt of His revilers
when they said, 'If Thou art the Son of God, come down from the
cross.' But why did He not do it? I remember how once He said concerning
His life, 'no one taketh it away from Me.' But have not Pilate and the
Jews taken it away? I shall never lean upon His bosom again. But this I
know--He loved me, and I loved Him, and love Him still. The mysteries
are great, but the memories of Him will be exceedingly precious
forever."
[Illustration: JESUS APPEARING TO MARY MAGDALENE (Easter Morning)
_B. Plockhorst_ Page 209]
Poor John. He forgot those other words of His Lord concerning His
life,--"I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again."
The Lord had done the one already: He was soon to do the other, though
His sorrowing disciple understood it not. Meanwhile we leave him,
resting if possible from the weariness of the garden and the palace and
Calvary, during that Friday night, which was to be followed by a day of
continued sadness, and that by another night of sorrowful restlessness.
_CHAPTER XXVIII_
_John at the Tomb_
"Now on the first day of the week cometh Mary Magdalene early,
while it was yet dark, unto the tomb, and seeth the stone taken
away from the tomb. She runneth therefore, and cometh to Simon
Peter, and to the other disciple, whom Jesus loved.
"Peter therefore went forth, and the other disciple, and they went
toward the tomb.
"Simon Peter ... entered into the tomb.
"Then entered in therefore the other disciple also, ... and he saw
and believed."--_John_ xx. 1, 2, 3, 6, 8.
"Let us take John for our instructor in the swiftness of love, and
Peter for our teacher in courage."--_Stalker_.
"Oh, sacred day, sublimest day!
Oh, mystery unheard!
Death's hosts that claimed Him as their prey
He scattered with a word;
And from the tomb He valiant came;
And ever blessed be His name."
--_Kingo. Trans. Hymns of Denmark_.
"Mine eye hath found that sepulchral rock
That was the casket of Heav'n's richest store."
--_Milton_.--_The Passion_.
Of the women who visited the tomb of Jesus on the morning of the
Resurrection, John was especially interested in Mary Magdalene, from
whom seven demons had gone out, probably in his presence; thus giving
him opportunity to see the marvelous change from a most abject
condition, to grateful devotion to her Healer, perhaps beyond that of
any other one whom He healed. John long remembered her starting on her
errand "while it was yet dark." So he remembered Judas starting when "it
was night" on his errand, of which Mary's was the sad result. One was a
deed of love which no darkness hindered: the other was a deed of hate
which no darkness prevented or concealed.
John had a special reason for remembering Mary. When she had seen that
the stone was taken away from the tomb, it had a different meaning to
her from what it did when she and John saw it on Friday evening. And
when she "found not the body of the Lord Jesus," she imagined that
either friends had borne it away, or foes had robbed the tomb. In
surprise, disappointment and anxiety, her first impulse was to make it
known--to whom else than to him who had sorrowed with her at the
stone-closed door? So she "ran"--not with unwomanly haste, but with the
quickened step of woman's love--"to Simon Peter and to the other
disciple whom Jesus loved." They were both loved, but not in the fuller
sense elsewhere applied to John. Astonished at her early call, startled
at the wildness of her grief, sharing her anxiety, "they ran both
together" "toward the tomb" from which she had so hastily come. But it
was an uneven race. John, younger and nimbler, "outran Peter and came
first to the tomb." "Yet entered he not in." Reverence and awe make him
pause where love has brought him. For a few moments he is alone. His
earnest gaze confirms the report of Mary that somebody has "taken away
the Lord." He can only ask, Who? Why? Where? No angel gives answer.
Still his gaze is rewarded. "He seeth the linen cloths lying." These are
silent witnesses that the precious body has not been hastily and rudely
snatched away by unfriendly hands, such as had mangled it on the cross.
Peter arriving, everywhere and evermore impulsive, enters at once where
John fears to tread. He discovers what John had not seen,--"the napkin
that was upon His head, not lying with the linen cloths, but rolled up
in a place by itself." John does not tell whose head, so full is he of
the thought of his Lord.
"Then entered in therefore that other disciple also," says John of
himself, showing the influence of his bolder companion upon him. Though
the napkin escaped his notice from without the tomb, it found a
prominent place in his memory after he saw it. Who but an eye-witness
would give us such details? What does he mean us to infer from the
"rolled" napkin put away, if not the calmness and carefulness and
triumph of the Lord of Life as He tarried in His tomb long enough to lay
aside the bandages of death. When he saw the careful arrangement of the
grave-cloths, "he believed" that Jesus had risen. We are not to infer
from his mention of himself only that Peter did not share in this
belief. We can believe that Luke does not complete the story when he
says that Peter "departed to his home wondering at that which was come
to pass." As they came down from the Mount of Transfiguration they were
"questioning among themselves what the rising again from the dead should
mean." As they came from the tomb they questioned no longer.
[Illustration: THE DESCENT OF THE HOLY SPIRIT _Old Engraving_ Page 224]
We long for a yet fuller record than that which John has given of what
passed when he and Peter were within the tomb. He frankly tells us that
"as yet they knew not the Scriptures, that He must rise again from the
dead." Neither prophecy, nor the Scriptures, nor the Lord's repeated
declarations, had prepared them for this hour of fulfilment.
We imagine them lingering in the tomb, talking of the past, recalling
the words of their Lord, illumined in the very darkness of His
sepulchre, and both wondering what the future might reveal. At last they
left the tomb together. There was no occasion now for John to outrun
Peter. They were calm and joyful. There was nothing more to see or to
do. "So the disciples went away again unto their own home."
"But Mary was standing without at the tomb weeping." In these words John
turns our thoughts from himself to her who had summoned him and Peter,
and then followed them. After they had left the sepulchre she continued
standing, bitterly weeping. She could not refrain from seeking that
which she had told the disciples was not there. Her gaze was "at the
very cause of her grief." "She stooped and looked into the tomb" as John
had done.
From the infancy of Jesus to His death there was no ministry of angels
to men, though they ministered to Him. "The Master being by, it behooved
the servant to keep silence." But the angelic voices that proclaimed His
birth, were heard again after His resurrection. According to John's
minute description Mary "beholdeth two angels in white sitting, one at
the head, and one at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain." The
angelic silence was broken by them both, with the question, "Woman, why
weepest thou"--so bitterly and continuously? They might have added, "It
is all without a cause." Her answer was quick and brief; and without any
fear of the shining ones who lightened the gloomy tomb, and were ready
to lighten her darkened spirit. Her reply was the echo of her own words
to Peter and John, slightly changed to show her personal loss;--"Because
they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid
Him."--Am I not wretched indeed? Is there not a cause? Why should I
check my tears?
To answer was needless. Were not the angels in the blessed secret which
was immediately revealed? Were they not glancing from within the tomb,
over her bowed head, to the gently moving form without? Did Mary become
suddenly conscious of some presence as "she turns herself back, and
beholdeth Jesus standing, and knew not that it was Jesus"? His question
seemed an echo of the angelic voices, "Woman, why weepest thou?" with
the added question, "Whom seekest thou?" This was the first utterance of
the risen Lord. In the garden, at this early hour, who--so thought
Mary--can this be but the gardener? As such she addressed Him, "Sir, If
_thou_ hast borne Him hence, tell me where thou hast laid Him, and I
will take Him away." We can hardly restrain a smile when we see how the
strength of her love made her unmindful of the weakness that would
attempt to "take Him away."
"Jesus saith unto her, Mary." That name, that familiar voice, that
loving tone, sent a thrill through her heart which the name "woman" had
failed to excite. More completely "she turned herself, and saith unto
Him, Rabboni," with all the devotion of her impassioned soul.
Let us recall John's account of Mary's report of her first visit to the
tomb, full of sadness--"_They have taken away the Lord_," and then in
contrast place by its side his record of her second report, full of
gladness--"Mary Magdalene, cometh and telleth the disciples, _I have
seen the Lord_." The one was a mistaken inference; the other a blessed
reality. Between these two utterances on the same day what revelations
to them both. But the end was not yet.
"When therefore it was evening, on that day, the first day of the week,
and when the doors were shut where the disciples were, for fear of the
Jews, Jesus came and stood in the midst, and saith unto them, Peace be
unto you." So John describes the first meeting of Jesus with the
disciples after His resurrection. He gives hints of some things of which
other Evangelists are silent. With emphasis he notes "that day" as the
day of days whose rising sun revealed resurrection glory. That "evening"
must have recalled the last one on which they had been together. Then
the Lord had said unto them, "Peace I leave with you." But the
benediction had seemed almost a mockery, because of the sorrow which
followed. But now it was repeated with a renewed assurance of His power
to bestow it. Through fear of the Jews they had closed the doors of
probably the same Upper Room where they had been assembled before. These
doors were no barrier to His entry, any more than the stone to His
leaving His tomb.
[Illustration: ST. PETER AND ST. JOHN AT THE BEAUTIFUL GATE
_Old Engraving_ Page 225]
As John alone preserved the incident of the pierced side, he alone tells
how Jesus "showed unto them His ... side," and said to Thomas, at the
next meeting, "Reach hither thy hand and thrust it into My side;" and
how this was followed by Thomas' believing exclamation, "My Lord, and my
God." With this and the Lord's beatitude for other believing ones, John
originally ended his story of the Lord, in these words,--"Many other
signs therefore did Jesus in the presence of His disciples which are not
written in this book: but these are written, that ye may believe that
Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing ye may have life
in His name."
_CHAPTER XXIX
"What Shall This Man Do_?"
"Jesus manifested Himself again to the disciples at the Sea of
Tiberias."--_John_ xxi. 1.
"There were together Simon Peter ... and the sons of
Zebedee."--_v_. 2.
"Peter, turning about, seeth the disciple whom Jesus loved
following."--_v._ 20.
"Peter ... saith to Jesus, Lord, and What shall this man do?"--_v_.
21.
The twenty-first chapter of John's Gospel is without doubt an addition,
written some time after the original Gospel was finished. Why this
addition? To answer the question we must recall the things of which the
addition tells. They are of special interest in our studies of Peter and
John.
In our last chapter we were with John in Jerusalem. From there he
carries us to the Sea of Tiberias. He tells us that he and his brother
James, and Peter, with four others, "were there together." They were
near their childhood home, where they had watched for the Messiah, and
where, when He had appeared He called them to leave their fishing
employment, and to become fishers of men. They had been saddened by His
death, then gladdened by His resurrection. He had told them to meet Him
in Galilee. And now they were waiting for His coming. They were within
sight of a boat from which perhaps some day they had fished. Peter, ever
active and ready to do something, said to his companions, "I go
a-fishing." As John had followed him into the tomb, he and the others
followed him to the boat saying, "We also come with thee." Let John
himself tell what happened. "They went forth and entered into the boat;
and that night they took nothing. But when day was now breaking, Jesus
stood on the beach: howbeit the disciples knew not that it was Jesus.
Jesus therefore saith unto them, Children, have ye aught to eat? They
answered Him, No. And He said unto them, Cast the net on the right side
of the boat, and ye shall find. They cast therefore, and now they were
not able to draw it for the multitude of fishes."
Once more we are to find Peter and John the prominent figures, and see
the difference between them, John being the first to understand, and
Peter the first to act. When John saw the multitude of fishes he
remembered the same thing had happened before at the beginning of
Christ's ministry. Looking toward the land, and whispering to Peter, he
said, "It is the Lord." "So when Simon Peter heard that it was the
Lord, he girt his coat about him"--out of reverence for his Master--"and
cast himself into the sea," and swam or waded about one hundred yards to
the beach. The other disciples followed in the boat, dragging the net
with the fishes. John remembered their great size, and the number "an
hundred and fifty and three." He says, "When they got out upon the land,
they see a fire of coals there." Did it not remind him of another "fire
of coals" of which he had already written, kindled in the court of the
high-priestly palace where "Peter stood and warmed himself," and near
which he denied his Lord three times? If he did not recall that scene
immediately, he did very soon.
Jesus invited the disciples to eat of the meal he had prepared. As they
did so they were filled with awe and reverence, "knowing that it was the
Lord." In the light of the palace fire, "the Lord turned and _looked_
upon Peter"--that only. But in the morning light on the seashore, "when
they had broken their fast, Jesus _saith_ to Simon Peter, Lovest thou
Me?" Three times, with some difference of meaning, gently and solemnly
He asked the question as many times as Peter had denied Him. On Peter's
first assurance of his love Christ gave him a new commission, "Feed My
lambs." This was a humble work,--not so exalted as it is now--a test of
Peter's fitness for Apostleship. He was ready to accept it; and thus he
showed his fitness for the enlarged commission, "Feed My sheep."
With what intense interest John must have listened to the conversation
between his friend and their Lord. Was he not as ready as Peter to say,
"Lord, Thou knowest all things; Thou knowest that I love Thee"? In the
end John fulfilled the commission, "Feed My lambs," better than either
Peter or any of the other Apostles. Of them all he had the most of the
child-like spirit. He may fittingly be called the Apostle of Childhood.
Peter was told by the Lord something about his own future,--how in
faithful service for his Master he would be persecuted, and "by what
manner of death he should glorify God." By this his crucifixion is
apparently meant. As John listened, perhaps he wondered what his own
future would be. He was ready to share in service with Peter. Was he not
also ready to share in his fate, whatever it might be?
"Follow Me," said Jesus to Peter. They seem to have started together
away from the group. John felt that he must not be thus separated from
his friend and his Lord. Though he had not been invited to join them, he
started to do so, as if the command to Peter had been also for himself.
"Peter, turning about, seeth the disciple whom Jesus loved following;
which also leaned back on His breast at the supper, and said, Lord, who
is he that betrayeth Thee?" As Peter at the supper beckoned unto John to
ask that question concerning Judas, is it not possible that John now
beckoned to Peter to ask Christ concerning himself? However this may be,
"Peter, seeing him, saith to Jesus, Lord, what shall this man do?" or,
as it is interpreted, "Lord--and this man, what?" It is as if he had
said, "Will John also die a martyr's death, as you have said I shall
die?" It is not strange that he wanted to know the future of his friend.
But he did not receive the answer he sought, for "Jesus saith unto him,
If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee?"
These words may mean that John would live to old age and escape
martyrdom, which became true. But this was not the meaning which
Christians of his day put into them. They had the mistaken idea that
Christ, having ascended to Heaven, would soon come again. They also
believed that John would live until Christ's second coming. "This saying
therefore went forth among the brethren, that that disciple should not
die." John was unwilling to have this mistake concerning Christ's words
repeated over and over wherever he was known. So he determined to
correct the false report by adding what is the twenty-first chapter of
His Gospel, telling just what Christ did say, and the circumstances in
which He uttered the words to Peter concerning John. His testimony is
this:--"Jesus said not unto him, he shall not die; but, If I will that
he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? Follow thou Me."
Peter became the suffering; John the waiting disciple, "tarrying" a long
time, even after his friend was crucified, and all his fellow-Apostles
had died, probably by martyrdom.
But after all that John wrote to correct the mistaken report concerning
His death, tradition would not let him die. It affirmed that although he
was thrown into a caldron of boiling oil at Rome, and though he was
compelled to drink hemlock, he was unharmed; and that though he was
buried, the earth above his grave heaved with his breathing, as if,
still living, he was tarrying until Christ should return.
"What shall this man"--John--"do?" asked Peter. He found partial answer
in what they did together for the early Christian Church, until John saw
"by what manner of death Peter should glorify God." And then that church
found yet fuller answer in John's labors for it while alone he "tarried"
long among them.
When John tells us that Peter turned and saw him following, we recall
the hour when Andrew and he timidly walked along the Jordan banks, and
"Jesus turned and saw them following," and welcomed their approach and
encouraged them in familiar conversation. How changed is all now! John
does not ask as before, "Where dwellest Thou?" Nor does Jesus bid him
"Come and see." He who has become the favored disciple is now better
prepared than then to serve his Master, following in the path they had
trod together, and having an abiding sense of the blessed though unseen
Presence, until his Lord shall bid him, "Come and see" My heavenly
abode, and evermore "be with Me where I am," and share at last, without
unholy ambition, the glory of My Throne."
_CHAPTER XXX_
_St. John a Pillar-Apostle in the Early Christian Church_
"James and Cephas and John, they who are reputed to be
pillars."--_Paul. Gal._ ii. 9.
"They went up into the upper chamber where they were abiding; both
Peter and John and James and Andrew, Philip, ..."--_Acts_ i. 13.
"When the day of Pentecost was now come, they were all together in
one place."--_Acts_ ii. 1.
"An angel of the Lord by night opened the prison doors, and brought
them out."--_Acts_ v. 19.
"Now when the Apostles which were in Jerusalem heard that Samaria
had received the word of the Lord, they sent unto them Peter and
John."--_Acts_ viii. 14.
"He (Herod) killed James the brother of John with the
sword."--_Acts_ xii. 2.
The next place where we may think of John with his Lord was on a
mountain in Galilee. At least once before His death, and twice after His
resurrection, He directed His Disciples to meet Him there. For what
purpose? Evidently to receive His final commission.
"Jesus came to them and spake unto them, saying, All authority hath been
given unto Me in Heaven and on earth. Go ye therefore, and make
disciples of all the nations, baptizing them into the name of the Father
and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost: teaching them to observe all
things whatsoever I commanded you: and lo, I am with you alway, even
unto the end of the world."
But the disciples were not yet prepared to fulfil this commission. So He
appointed another meeting, to be held in Jerusalem, where He met them,
"speaking of the things pertaining to the kingdom of God." Here the
command on the mountain was limited by another--not to depart from
Jerusalem immediately. "Wait" said He, "for the promise of the Father
which you heard from Me." That promise we find in John's record:--"I
will pray the Father, and He shall give you another Comforter, that He
may abide with you forever." "The Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost,
shall teach you all things." "He shall testify of Me." In the
fulfilment of that promise, the disciples were to find the preparation
to "go" and "preach." For that preparation they were to "wait."
Jesus then reminds them of the assurance given by John the Baptist
concerning Himself:--"He shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost." Once
more John is carried back to the Jordan, and reminded of the time when
he and Jesus had been baptized. All those former scenes must have been
recalled when Jesus at the final meeting in Jerusalem declared, "John
truly baptized with water, but ye shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost
not many days hence."
These words revived in the disciples the hope which had died in them
when Jesus died upon the cross. So, with yet mistaken ideas, they asked,
"Lord, wilt Thou at this time restore again the kingdom to Israel?" John
and the rest of the Bethsaidan band, who had heard the Baptist say that
the kingdom of God was at hand, hoped that "at this time" it would
appear. But, as when Jesus gave no direct answer to the two pairs of
brothers on Olivet concerning the time of the destruction of Jerusalem,
or to Peter's question concerning John's future, so now He avoided a
direct answer to this last question. He reminded them of something more
important for them than knowledge of the future: that was their own
duty,--not to reign, but to be witnesses for Him, first in Jerusalem,
then throughout Judæa, then in Samaria, then "unto the uttermost parts
of the earth." Yet this could not be until they had "received power
after that the Holy Ghost had come upon them." This was promised them:
they did not clearly understand what was meant: they were waiting to
see.
"He led them out until they were over against Bethany,"--well-remembered
Bethany. From there Jesus had made His triumphal entry into the City of
the Great King: from there He would make a more glorious entry into the
New Jerusalem. John was not His herald now. He, with the other ten, was
"led" by Him to witness His departure.
As He ascended Olivet the last time, did He not give a parting glance
down the slope into the village below, His eye resting on the home of
those He loved, made radiant for us by the search-light thrown upon it
by the loved disciple at His side? In thought did He not say, "Lazarus,
Martha, Mary, farewell."
The lifted hands, the parting blessing, the luminous cloud, and the
vanishing form--such is the brief story of the Ascension.
"Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye looking into Heaven?" The questioners
were two angels. Without waiting for answer, they gave promise of Jesus'
return. "Then returned the disciples unto Jerusalem from the Mount
called Olivet." Whither bound? We are told, "They went up into _the_
upper chamber." No longer simply "_A_ large upper room" to which Jesus
had told Peter and John they would be guided. Were they not now the
guide of the nine thither, to the place where they had six weeks before
"prepared" for the Passover? Did not the goodman of the house give the
Disciples a second welcome, and offer it to them as a temporary place
for the Christian Church? So it would appear, for again we are told,
"they were there abiding." Once more Luke gives their names, in the
Acts as he did in his Gospel. All except Judas answered, in that upper
room, to the roll call of the company scattered from Gethsemane, but
reunited in a closer union. In each of Luke's lists he begins with the
Bethsaidan band. But he does not preserve the same order. In the latter
he begins, not with the two pairs of brothers as such--Peter and Andrew,
James and John,--but with the Apostles whom Christ had drawn into His
inner circle, Peter, John and James, naming first the two who were
already becoming the acknowledged leaders of the Christian band. In that
list we find the name of Andrew recorded the last time in Holy Writ.
But the eleven were not alone: others resorted thither for the same
purpose. What was that purpose? and who were some of them? This is the
answer:--"These all with one accord continued steadfastly in prayer,
with the women, and Mary the Mother of Jesus, and with His brethren."
It is here, for the last time, that we read of Mary, in the Gospels. In
what better place could we bid her farewell than in the room consecrated
by the presence of her Son. How we rejoice with her that in that place
the longing of her heart must have been satisfied as she joined "with
one accord in prayer ... with His brethren"--her sons who during His
life had not believed on Him. What a welcome to that room did they
receive from John, their adopted brother! May we not indulge the thought
that among "the women" were her own daughters; and that we hear her
joyfully asking the once carping question of the Jews concerning "the
carpenter's son," but with changed meaning, saying, "His _sisters_, are
they not all with us?" If so "His Mother called Mary," "and His
brethren," "and His sisters," and John the adopted son and brother, were
at last a blessed family indeed. Mary on her knees with her children
around her, rejoicing in God her Saviour, of whom she had sung in the
infancy of her Son--that certainly is a fitting scene to be the last in
which we behold the Mother of Jesus.
"When the day of Pentecost was now come, they were all together in one
place." They were united in feeling, purpose and devotion, in the "one
place," the home of the early Church.
The hour had come for the fulfilment of the promise of their Lord, for
which they were to tarry in Jerusalem and wait. There was a great
miracle,--a sound from Heaven as of the rushing of a mighty wind which
filled the house. Flame-like tongues, having the appearance of fire
rested on the heads of the disciples, who were "all filled with the Holy
Ghost." He gave them utterance as they spoke in languages they had not
known before. Crowds of foreigners in the city "were confounded because
that every man heard them speaking in his own language."
On the morning of that day the Church numbered one hundred and twenty.
"There were added unto them in that day about three thousand souls."
St. John was one of those filled with the Holy Ghost, according to the
prophecy he had heard by the Baptist, and the promise by Christ. On him
rested a fiery tongue. To him the Spirit gave utterance, perhaps in the
languages of those among whom he was to labor in Asia Minor, from where
some of these strangers had come. He was in full sympathy with that
Christian company, an actor with them, a leader of them, a pillar for
them strong and immovable.
But the Upper Room was not the only place where John worshiped. The
Temple was still a sanctuary where such as he communed with God. The
hour for the evening prayer was nearing when "Peter and John were going
up into the Temple." They reached the Beautiful Gate, which Josephus
describes as made of Corinthian brass, surpassing in beauty other temple
gates, even those which were overlaid with silver and gold. By it they
saw what doubtless they had often seen before, a lame man who, during
most of the forty years of his life, had been daily brought thither. His
weakness was a great contrast to the massive strength of the pillar
against which he leaned, as he counted the long hours and the coins he
received in charity. His haggard appearance and ugly deformity were a
greater contrast to the richness and symmetry of the gate which was so
fittingly "called Beautiful."
Was there something especially benignant in the faces of the two
Apostles, that encouraged the poor creature to hail them as he saw them
"about to go into the Temple"? They were willingly detained. "Peter,
fastening his eyes on him, with John, said, 'Look on us.'" A gift was
bestowed richer far than that for which he had hoped. They were full of
joy themselves, and of pity for him, and of a sense of the power of
their Lord, so often exercised in their presence. Therefore the command,
"In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk."
That was a strange sight to those who had long known the beggar, as he
held Peter with one hand and John with the other, as if leading them
into the Temple, into which he entered, "walking, and leaping, and
praising God."
The glad shout of the healed man attracted a crowd around him, "greatly
wondering." The Apostles declared that the miracle was by no power of
their own, but by that of Jesus who had been killed, but had risen from
the dead. For this they were arrested and put in prison--strange place
for such men and for such a reason. On the next day they were brought
before the rulers who demanded by what power they had done this thing.
Again the disciples declared it was in the name of Jesus Christ of
Nazareth, whom the Jews crucified, but whom God had raised from the
dead. The rulers were amazed when "they saw the boldness of Peter and
John." They had known the power of Jesus' words: they saw a like power
in the words of the Apostles, whom they were assured had been with Him
and been aided by Him. But this did not check their rage, which was
increased as they saw how many believed the Apostles. The three thousand
converts on the day of Pentecost were increased to five thousand.
[Illustration: EPHESUS _From Photograph_ Page 232]
As leaders of the Christian company Peter and John were again put into
prison--into the public jail for malefactors. But the divine power which
had been used through them was now used for them. A solemn warning was
given to the daring wickedness of the rulers. When they thought their
prisoners kept "with all safety," in the darkness, behind bolted doors,
"an angel of the Lord by night opened the prison doors, and brought them
out, and said, 'Go ye, and stand and speak in the temple to the people
all the words of this Life.'"
We know not the manner in which he led them out as he invisibly opened
and closed the doors through which they passed, to obey without fear
the heavenly bidding. With consternation the rulers heard a messenger
declare, in words almost echoing the angel's command, "Behold the men
whom ye put in prison are in the temple standing and teaching the
people."
Persecution scattered Christians who fled from Jerusalem, telling
wherever they went, of Christ as the Saviour. A deacon named Philip
preached in Samaria with great effect. "Now when the Apostles which were
at Jerusalem heard that Samaria had received the word of God, they sent
unto them Peter and John, who, when they were come down, prayed for them
that they might receive the Holy Ghost."
These two were chosen because they had taken the most active part in
establishing the church in Jerusalem, and were specially fitted for
similar work elsewhere. With what peculiar feelings John must have
entered Samaria. He must have recalled a day when hot and weary he had
journeyed thither with his Lord and met the Samaritaness at the well.
Perhaps he now met her again, and together they talked over that
wonderful conversation which made her the first missionary to her
people, many of whom declared, "We know that this is indeed the Saviour
of the world."
Did John on this visit enter into "a village of the Samaritans"--the
same where he had said, "Lord, wilt Thou that we bid fire to come down
from heaven and consume them?" Is it of them that it is now said he
"prayed for them"? His fire of indignation and revenge had changed to
the fire of love. The pentecostal flames had rested on his head.
Once more--only once--we find the names of James and John together. One
short sentence, full of pathos, of injustice and cruelty, of affection
and sorrow, tells a story of the early Church: Herod "killed James the
brother of John with the sword." He was the first martyr of the
Apostles. The smaller circle of the three, and the larger one of the
twelve, is broken. For these brothers we may take up David's lamentation
over Saul and Jonathan, slightly changed, and say, "They were lovely and
pleasant in their lives: but in their death they were divided,"--for
through half a century John mourned the loss of his loved companion from
childhood.
After James--one of the three whom Paul named pillars--had fallen, the
other two, Peter and John, stood for awhile side by side in strength and
beauty. To each of them he might have given the name Jachin by which one
of the pillars of Solomon's temple was called, meaning, "whom God
strengthens." Peter was the next to fall, after which John long stood
alone, until at last the three whom first we saw by the Sea of Galilee,
stood together by the glassy sea, in each of them fulfilled the promise
made through John, by their Lord,--"He that overcometh, I will make him
a pillar in the Temple of my God, and he shall go out thence no more."
[Illustration: THE ISLE OF PATMOS _Old Engraving_ Page 233]
_CHAPTER XXXI_
_Last Days_
"I John ... was in the isle that is called Patmos, for the word of
God, and the testimony of Jesus.... And I heard behind me a great
voice, as of a trumpet saying, What thou seest, write in a book,
and send it to the seven churches."--_Rev._ i. 9-11.
"Since I, whom Christ's mouth taught, was bidden teach,
I went, for many years, about the world,
Saying, 'It was so; so I heard and saw,'
Speaking as the case asked; and men believed.
Afterward came the message to myself
In Patmos Isle. I was not bidden teach,
But simply listen, take a book and write,
Nor set down other than the given word,
With nothing left to my arbitrament
To choose or change; I wrote, and men believed."
From Samaria John with Peter "returned to Jerusalem." This is the last
record of him in the Acts. We have but little information concerning him
after that event. He suddenly disappears. We have two glimpses of him
which are historic, and several through shadowy traditions.
There was a very important meeting in Jerusalem to settle certain
questions in which the early Church was greatly interested, and about
which there had been much difference in judgment and feeling. St. Paul
was present. He says that St. John was there, one of the three
Pillar-Apostles who gave to him and Barnabas "the right hands of
fellowship." This is the only time of which we certainly know of the
meeting of these two Apostles; though we have imagined the possibility
of John's visiting the school of Gamaliel, and worshiping in the Temple
when young Saul was in Jerusalem. From this time, A.D., 50, we
lose sight of John and do not see him again until A.D., 68, in
the Isle of Patmos. As his Lord was hidden eighteen years, from the time
of His boyhood visit to Jerusalem until He entered on His public
ministry, so long His disciple is concealed from our view. Leaving
Jerusalem he probably never returned. Why he left we do not know. It may
have been because of persecutions. Perhaps the death of Mary relieved
him from the charge we may believe he had faithfully kept, and thus made
it possible for him to go about like other Apostles to preach the
Gospel. If so we have no hint in what direction he went. He may have
gone directly to Ephesus. On reaching it perhaps he found a welcome from
some who had heard him speak in their own language on the day of
Pentecost. It was a populous city, wealthy and wicked. Its magnificent
Temple of Diana was one of the seven wonders of the world. Its ruins
give us a hint of its former glory.
All the traditions of early times make Ephesus the home of St. John in
the latter part of his life. From it as a centre he ministered to the
Churches of Asia Minor.
Gospel truth found its way thither, even before Paul made it the centre
of his third missionary tour. He was driven from it, but he left the
foundation of a Christian Church, upon which John builded. There were
like foundations in at least six other important cities of Asia
Minor--Smyrna, Pergamum, Thyatira, Sardis, Philadelphia and Laodicea.
The silence of the latter half of St. John's life is broken but once,
and that by himself. He tells us that he "was in the isle that is called
Patmos." It was not far from Ephesus, within a day's sail. It is a huge
rock, rugged and barren, only a few miles in length.
Why was John in Patmos? He says, "for the word of God and the testimony
of Jesus." What does he mean by this? Perhaps that he was led thither by
circumstances of which we do not know, or by the guidance of the Spirit
of God, who there would make wonderful revelations to him. But more
probably he was banished thither for the preaching of the Gospel of
Jesus, and for being a faithful follower of Him, notwithstanding the
persecutions of Nero or Domitian. As told in an ancient Latin hymn,--
"To desert islands banished,
With God the exile dwells,
And sees the future glory
His mystic writing tells."
The grotto of La Scala may have been the spot from which he looked out
upon the Ægean Sea, and upward into the heavens, communing in solitude
with his own thoughts, or with his Lord for whom he was there. Patmos
was for this a fitting place, whether he had gone there from his own
choice, or had been driven thither by the cruelty of his persecutor. In
such solitude did Milton muse, and Bunyan dream.
It was the "Lord's Day," says John. He alone, and at this time only,
uses that name with which we have become familiar, though it may have
been in common use among the early Christians. It meant much to John,
even more than to us. It was a reminder of the day when he looked into,
and then entered, the tomb of his Lord, and believed that He had risen
from the dead.
His meditations may have been aided by Old Testament Manuscripts, his
only companions; especially that of Daniel, in which it is claimed "the
spirit and imagery of the Book of Revelation is steeped."
What a contrast there was between the peaceful waves of Gennesaret,
creeping silently upon the sandy beach of his childhood home, and the
breakers dashing upon the rocky coast of his exile abode in his old
age! How suggestive of the calm and turmoil of his life!
[Illustration: SMYRNA _Old Engraving_ Page 233]
But his musings were suddenly broken by "a great voice, as of a
trumpet," giving a command--"What thou seest, write in a book." He says,
"I turned to see the voice that spake with me." He beheld his Lord in
greater grandeur than he had seen Him on earth, even on Hermon. As he
gazed upon the divine figure he must have exclaimed,
"Can this be He who used to stray,
A pilgrim on the world's highway,
Oppressed by power, and mocked by pride,
The Nazarene, the Crucified!"
We do not wonder that he says,--"When I saw Him, I fell at His feet as
one dead." So had Paul done when the Lord appeared to him at Damascus.
John adds, "He laid His right hand upon me, saying, Fear not." The words
seem almost an echo from the Holy Mount,--"Jesus came and touched them,
and said, Arise, and be not afraid."
The command to John was renewed, to write--of things which he had seen,
and what he was yet to behold. The early Christians called him the
Eagle, meaning that of all the sacred writers he had the loftiest
visions of divine truth.
John's writings are of three kinds, the Book of The Revelation of the
secret purposes of God; his Gospel; and his three Epistles or letters.
Although The Revelation is the last of the books of the Bible, it is
probably the first of those by John. It contains messages from the Lord
in Heaven to the seven churches in Asia, which we have mentioned,
concerning their virtues and their failings. To each was given a special
promise of reward to those who overcame sin, and were faithful to
Christ. From this Revelation of John we get our imagery of Heaven,
helping us to understand something of its glory.
His Gospel is supposed to have been written next. Why did he write it?
As we have noticed, Matthew, Mark and Luke had already written their
Gospels. But there was abundant reason for John's writing the fourth
Gospel. We need not doubt the tradition that he was urged to do so by
the disciples, elders and bishops of the early Church. They had heard
him tell much concerning Christ of which the first three Evangelists had
not told. These things were too precious to be forgotten, or to be
changed by frequent repetition after his lips were silent. That must be
soon, for he was very old, having long passed the limit of human age.
They had listened to the story of the early call of the disciples, and
of the first miracle at Cana, and of the night visit of Nicodemus to
Jesus, and of the talk by the well of Samaria with the Samaritaness, and
of the washing of the disciples' feet, and of many other things which
Jesus said and did of which no one had written. In John's talks with
Christians, and his preaching in their churches, he explained fully and
simply the teachings of Jesus, as no one else had done, or could do.
They longed for a record of them, that they might read it themselves,
and leave it to their children, and those who never could hear the words
from his lips.
So St. John wrote his Gospel, giving to his first readers his great
reason,--"These are written that ye may believe that Jesus is the
Christ, the Son of God; and that believing ye may have life in His
name."
For the writing of his first Epistle he also gives a reason,
saying,--"That which we have heard, that which we have seen with our
eyes, that which we beheld, and our hands handled concerning the word of
life, ... that ... declare we unto you also, that ye also may have
fellowship with us."
Through these words John draws us very near to his Lord and ours, Whom
we behold through his eyes, and hear through his ears. We almost feel
the grasp of a divine yet human hand.
The great theme is the love of God, or as Luther expresses it, "The main
substance of this Epistle relates to love." John's Gospel abounds in
declarations and illustration of this greatest of truths, but it does
not contain the phrase in this Epistle in which he sums up the whole
Gospel, "GOD IS LOVE." Because of John's deep sense of God's
love, and because of the depth of his own love, the Beloved Apostle is
called, The Apostle of Love.
John's second Epistle should be of special interest to the young. From
it we infer that there were two Christian homes, in each of which John
took delight. The mothers were sisters. His letter is addressed to "The
elect lady"--or as she is sometimes called the Lady Electa--and her
children. John tells of his love and that of others for them,--Mother
and children--because of their Christian character. He tells of his
great joy because of the children "walking in the truth"--living as
children should live who have learned of the teachings of Christ.
From the group of children around him in the home where he wrote, he
sends messages to their aunt, saying, "The children of thine elect
sister salute thee." How the children of Electa must have prized that
letter! How little they thought that nineteen hundred years after they
received it, other children would read it, and think how happy were
those who had the Apostle John for their friend.
This letter is one of the things that revealed his child-like spirit. We
remember the time when he did not have that spirit. At last he did have
it because he became so much like his Master who loved the little ones,
and taught His disciples to do the same.
John thought of the child-spirit as the Christ-spirit, whether it was in
the old or the young. He called all who had it children. He called those
to whom he ministered in his old age his little children. This he does
in the last sentence of his last letter to the Christian church,--"My
little children, guard yourselves from idols."
Because of his own child-like spirit and his seeking to cultivate it in
others, and because of his manifest interest in children, he may be
called the Apostle of Childhood.
There is a beautiful tradition concerning him, that in his old age, when
he was too feeble to walk to the church or to preach, he was carried
thither, and said again and again,--"Little children, love one another."
Some said, "Master, why dost thou always say this?" He replied, "It is
the Lord's command, and if this alone is done, it is enough." Of his
death at the probable age of about one hundred nothing is known. It is
claimed that there is a sacred spot somewhere among the tangled thickets
of Mt. Prion which looks down on Ephesus where his body was laid.
There is a tradition, inconsistent with the supposition that Mary died
in Jerusalem, that she accompanied John to Ephesus and was buried near
him; her eyes having been closed by him on whom her Son had looked with
dimming vision, commending her to his loving care.
No magnificent tomb marks the place of John's burial. None is needed.
But there are richer and abundant memorials of St. John the Divine--an
imperishable name because that of the Beloved Disciple of Him Whose name
is above every name.
_CHAPTER XXXII_
_A Retrospect_
How wonderful and charming a history is that of St. John! Our glimpses
of him have been few and often-times indistinct; but they have been
enough in number and clearness to reveal a noble and lovable character.
We saw him first on the sea-shore of Gennesaret, not differing from any
other Galilean boy. We watched him playing and fishing with his
Bethsaidan companions, none of them thinking of how long their
friendship would be continued, or in what new and strange circumstances
of joy and sorrow, hope and fear, disappointment and glad surprises,
that companionship would become closer and closer.
We saw John in his rambles about his home, amid scenes beautiful in
themselves, which became sacred because of what he there beheld and
heard.
We discovered his relationship to a child in Nazareth whom he did not
know at first as the most wonderful being in the world.
We entered his home and visited the school where he was taught of Him
who was called the coming Messiah; but who had already come, though his
parents and teachers knew it not.
We followed him as a Jewish boy into the Temple, whose glories were to
become more glorious in his manhood by what he beheld therein.
We saw him on the Jordan, standing with his kindred and namesake, who
pointed him to Jesus as the Messiah for whom he had been looking. From
that hour we have known him as a disciple of Jesus, later as one of his
twelve Apostles, then one of the chosen three, then the one--the beloved
Disciple.
Through his eyes we have beheld the wonderful works of our Lord: with
his ears we have heard the most wonderful words ever spoken to man. We
have caught glimpses of him in most wonderful scenes which he was almost
the only one to behold--amid the glories of the transfiguration, in the
death-chamber changed to that of life, in the shadows of Gethsemane.
We have learned through John the sacredness of human friendships, made
closer and holier by friendship with the loved and loving Lord. He has
been our guide to the Upper Room of joy and sadness; to the Priestly
Palace of suffering and of shame; to the cross of agony and death; to
the tomb of surprise and exaltation; to the mount of final blessing and
ascension.
[Illustration: PERGAMOS AND THE RUINS OF THE CHURCH OF ST. JOHN
_Old Engraving_ Page 233]
John saw what kings and prophets longed to see, but died without the
sight--the Messiah come. He witnessed probably all the miracles of
Jesus, from his first in Cana as a guest, to his last on the sea-shore
as a host--the signs of divine power inspired by pity and love. He
looked upon the enthusiastic but mistaken throng who in Galilee would
force upon Jesus an unwelcome crown; then upon the multitudes who hailed
him with hosannas on Olivet; then the maddened crowd who shouted through
the streets of Jerusalem, "Crucify Him." He witnessed Christ's movements
when the multitudes gathered about Him for instruction and healing, and
when he withdrew from them to pray. His eyes were dazzled by the
brightness of the transfiguration as he looked upon the form which at
last was enshrouded in darkness on Calvary. With another vision he
beheld that form in Heaven itself.
On the Jordan he beheld Jesus as the Lamb of God which was to be offered
as a sacrifice. He saw the cross become His altar of sacrifice, and then
in Heaven discerned Him as the "Lamb as it had been slain." He was
witness of Christ's joys and sorrows, shame and suffering, humiliation
and exaltation, entering into them more fully than did any other human
being.
From the hour in which John stood with the Baptist who told him to
behold Jesus, his eye was upon Him, until, because there was no more
for him to behold of his Lord on earth, the angels asked, "Why stand ye
gazing?" Having seen Him "lifted up" on a beclouded cross, he saw Him
"taken up" as a glorious "cloud received Him out of sight."
John heard wondrous things. He became familiar with his Lord's voice,
its tones of instruction and exhortation, warning and reproof,
invitation and affection, forgiveness and benediction, prayer and
praise, depression and agony, joy and triumph. He was no careless
listener to the words spoken to Jesus--those of inquiry and pleading,
hypocrisy and contempt, mockery and deceit, hatred and love. Beside his
Lord, he heard saintly voices, and the voice of the Father.
Much that John saw and heard when with his Lord he has made known. We
imagine some things were too tender and sacred for others' ears:
concerning such his lips were sealed. Other things were too precious for
silence: of such he is the most distinct echo. His Gospel is often a
commentary on the other three. He was an eye-witness of most of the
events of which he tells. His Gospel is rich with illuminated texts.
Having the best understanding of "the words of the Lord Jesus," he is
the fullest reporter of His teachings. Having the deepest insight into
the heart of hearts of his Lord, he is its clearest revealer. While many
others grasped separate truths, he placed them side by side in harmony
and unity, and thus held them up and revealed them to mankind. His
Lord's words were the most sacred treasures of his memory: his greatest
joy was to bring them forth for others to view and admire, that they too
might be inspired thereby to "love and good works." Without erasing
aught from the pictures drawn by his fellow-Evangelists, he has added
to, and filled in, and re-touched with a sympathizing hand. So familiar
had he become with his Lord's countenance, with all its varied
expressions, and so skilful was he in reproducing them, that his
composite portrait is the most beautiful and impressive of all attempts
to portray "the human face divine."
Standing outside of some grand cathedral, before its stained window, we
mark the figures with their rich depth of color. Passing within we see
the same figures, but the outline is more distinct; the colors are
richer, and with more harmonious blending. So sometimes we seem to stand
with the three Evangelists outside the Gospel Cathedral; and then with
John within.
Like Ruth in the field of Boaz he followed the reapers--the first three
Evangelists in the field of their Lord,--to "glean even among the
sheaves." He "gleaned in the field until evening," the close of the long
day of his life, "and beat out that he had gleaned," and gave it to
others. There was not need for them to ask him, "Where hast thou
gleaned?" There was only one field from which such harvest could be
gathered. Rather could they say as Naomi to Ruth, "Blessed is he that
did take knowledge of thee."
There have been more noted illustrations of change in character than is
furnished in St. John. His early life was not profligate like that of
John Newton or John Bunyan. And yet the change in him was marked enough
to furnish an exhibition of contrast, showing the power of Christ's
teachings and example upon him, until he reached an unwonted degree of
perfection. He combined the noblest traits of the loftiest manhood and
womanhood, with the simplicity of childhood. His human kinship to Jesus
illustrated but faintly the closer and tenderer relation formed by the
transforming of his spirit into the likeness of Christ. This was more
royal than any merely human relationship. It was the closest relation of
which we know of the perfect Christ with imperfect man. We have watched
the changes in John's spirit, and seen his imperfections smoothed away,
and his character so polished that it became the brightest reflector of
the image of Jesus Christ. Yet from the first there were budding virtues
in him which Mary Magdalene's supposed gardener brought to perfection.
[Illustration: RUINS OF LAODICEA _Old Engraving_ Page 233]
In history John stands and must ever stand alone. He was one of the
two who first accepted the call of Christ to come to Him: he was the
last of the Apostles to repeat, in another and yet as true a sense, that
invitation to multitudes of men. He was one of those two who first saw
what may be called the beginning of the Christian Church, in the little
booth by the Jordan: and the last one of the Twelve to remember its
fuller establishments in the Upper Chamber of Jerusalem. He was the last
man who had seen the last prophet who told of the coming Messiah; and
was the last Evangelist to tell that He had come. He was one of the
three who were the last to behold the Shechinah, and to whom came the
voice of God the Father.
John was the lone disciple in the palace of the high priest, witnessing
the injustice, mockery, and cruelty before Pilate; the last one with
whom the Lord spoke and on whom His eye rested before His death. He was
the lone disciple to gaze upon the cross and witness the dying agonies;
the first to look into the deserted tomb; the first of whom we are told
that he believed the Lord had risen therefrom. The last survivor of the
Apostolic band, he had the fullest opportunity to witness the fulfilment
of prophecies of which he was a careful student and clear interpreter.
He saw the sad close of the Jewish dispensation, and the glorious
beginning of Christianity. He saw the Holy City overthrown, as Christ
declared to Him on Olivet that it would be, and had a vision of the New
Jerusalem of which the old was a consecrated type, at last profaned.
Of the golden Apostolic chain he was the last link binding the Church to
its Lord. He was the last known human kindred of the Son of Man. The
last words of inspiration were spoken to and recorded by him. He was the
latest prophet, historian, and Evangelist. One of the first to say, "I
have seen the Messiah," he was the last to say, "I have seen the Lord."
We have caught glimpses of St. John in the early days of Christianity,
as a light and a pillar, a teacher and a guide. Sometimes for years
together he has been hidden from our view, and then has emerged with a
yet brighter halo around his head. We have watched him on a lonely isle
gazing into heaven, beholding glories of which he gives us hints, but
which he tells us he cannot fully describe.
Because of his relation to the Lord, the fisher boy unknown beyond the
hamlet of Bethsaida two thousand years ago is "spoken of" as truly as
Mary of Bethany, whose memory he especially has made sacred and
perpetual. Wherever the Gospel is preached he too is remembered, honored
and loved.
Because of his relation to the Lord, towns in lands of which he never
knew, bear his name; in which people are taught by his words and
inspired by his spirit. In them many a family is known by the name St.
John. Rivers in their flow bear his name from generation to generation
on earth, while he points men to the pure river "proceeding out of the
throne of God and the Lamb," which was "showed" him in Patmos. Societies
for fraternal fellowship and mutual helpfulness are called after him.
St. John's day has a sacred place in the calendar. Many a rural chapel
and stately city church are reminders of him. The richness of his
graces, and the yet future of his saintly influence, are symbolized in
the yet unfinished temple of surpassing grandeur in the City of New
York,--"The Cathedral of St. John the Divine."
From all these earthly scenes in which we have beheld him, to which
history and tradition have pointed us, and from those things which are
memorials of him, we turn to the Heavenly scenes which he bids us behold
as they were revealed to him. Thither we follow him after all his trials
and labors and triumphs of earth. With reverence and gladness for him,
we listen to the voice of the Lord saying to him what He had told him to
say to the Churches of Asia:--"Because thou didst overcome I give thee
'to eat of the tree of life, which is in the midst of the Paradise of
God.' Thou shalt 'not be hurt with the second death.' I give thee 'a
white stone, and upon the stone a new name written.' I give thee 'the
morning star.' 'I will in no wise blot thy name out of the book of life!
I make you a pillar in the temple of My God.' O John, rememberest thou
thy petition and that of thy brother who has long been with Me,--'Grant
unto us that we may sit, one on Thy right hand, and one on Thy left hand
in Thy glory'? Thou thoughtest that 'glory' was an earthly throne, which
thou never sawest. But thou hast overcome thy pride and ambition, thy
jealous and revengeful spirit. Thou hast triumphed over those who were
thine enemies because thou wast My friend. Thou didst see My agonies and
victories in Gethsemane and on Calvary. Thou didst take up My cry on My
cross concerning My work on earth, and sound it forth,--'It is
finished.' Dost thou remember My final promise to him that overcometh,
which I made from this My true throne of glory, through thee, 'in the
isle that is called Patmos'--precious name even here because of thy
'testimony for' Me. That promise I now fulfil in thee. O John, one of My
chosen Twelve on earth; yea more, one of My chosen three; yet more, My
beloved one, here in Heaven, now, 'Sit down with Me on My throne, as I
also overcame and sat down with My Father in His throne.'"
_CHAPTER XXXIII_
_Legends and Traditions of St. John_
After closing the history of St. John, we linger over the traditions
that cluster about his later years. They reveal the feelings of the
early Church toward him who was the last of the Apostolic band, and the
last who had seen their Lord.
There is one legend so beautiful, so much like him, that we can almost
believe it as having a fitting place in his history. It belongs to the
time when he preached in the magnificent Church which Christians had
reared for him in Ephesus. We may not credit the story that on his brow
he wore a golden plate engraven with the inscription, "Holiness to the
Lord," but we can almost imagine it written there. His memorable
appearance and his tender manner, the loving voice with which he told
the story of his Lord, fastened all eyes upon him, and opened all ears
to his message of salvation. There was one, a young man, who standing in
the distance, looked and listened with such eager interest as to attract
the attention of the Apostle. In repentance and faith he found the peace
which nothing else can give. He was baptized and numbered with the
Ephesian Christians. St. John took special interest in him, training him
in Christian doctrine, and preparing him for a useful life. When the
hour for John's banishment came, in his anxiety for the youth, he
committed him to the care of the Bishop of the place, whom he charged to
be faithful in teaching and spiritual guidance.
But the youth was exposed to many temptations from the heathen about
him. Their songs and dances and wine again charmed him as they did
before he heard the preaching of John. He yielded to their influences,
and renounced his profession of Christianity. In the absence of the
Apostle, the reproofs of the Bishop only maddened him. He no longer
attended the services of the Church, or sought the companionship of
Christians. Having entered the paths of sin, he wandered farther and
farther therein. At last he committed a crime against the government. In
fear of punishment he fled from Ephesus, and joined a company of robbers
and bandits in the wild ravines of the mountains. Though young in years,
he was so cunning and bold in crime that he became the leader of the
band. Inspired by his daring spirit they were ready for deeds of
violence that made them the terror of the whole region.
On John's return from his exile in Patmos to Ephesus, he longed to know
of the welfare of the young disciple, who had been to him as an adopted
son, ever present to his mind and heart in his lonely island. The
Bishop, with downcast eyes, sorrow and shame, declared, "He is dead."
"How?" asked John, "and by what death?" "He is dead to God," said the
Bishop. "He has turned out wicked and abandoned, and at last a robber."
John rent his garments as a sign of distress. Weeping he cried with a
loud lamentation, "Alas! alas! to what a guardian have I trusted our
brother!" The tender, faithful heart of the aged Apostle yearned for the
young man. He was ready to say, "How can I give thee up!" He knew the
mercy of God, and the power of love, human and divine; and determined
that the robber-chieftain should know it too.
Immediately he procured a horse and guide, and rode toward the
stronghold of the robbers. It was in a wild mountainous ravine, with
rushing torrents and rugged rocks overgrown with brushwood and luxuriant
herbage. It was a place of grandeur, and yet of gloom--a fitting haunt
for the robber-band. Few travelers passed that way, and that hurriedly
and in terror.
At last the Apostle and his guide heard from behind the rocks the hoarse
shouts of revelry. But he heeded them not, so intent was he on his
errand. He was seeking the prodigal, his adopted son--who was not
seeking the loving father. He drew the reins of his horse, while he
told his guide that their journey was ended, and prayed for themselves
and for him whom they sought. His nearness was discovered by one of the
band, who led him to the rest, and bound his guide. There was a great
contrast between the old man with his snowy locks and beard, in his
humble garb; and the younger, the wild looking bandit with his streaming
hair and loose white kilt; between the defenceless captive, and his
captors armed with Roman swords, long lances, and bows and arrows before
which he seemed perfectly powerless.
As he looked upon their hardened features they looked into his benignant
face, and stood awed in his presence. Their rough manner, words and
tones were changed by his smile and even friendly greeting. He made no
resistance. His only motion was a wave of his hand. It was mightier than
sword or lance or bow. His only request was, "Take me to your captain."
Over-awed by the dignity of his manner and his calmness, the captors
obeyed their captive and silently led him to their chief. In an open
space the tall handsome young man was seated on his horse, wearing
bright armor and breastplate, and holding the spear of a warrior. At a
glance he recognized his old master, instructor and guide, who had been
to him as a father. His first thought was, "Why should this holy man
seek me?" He answered his own question, saying to himself, "He has come
with just and angry threatenings which I well deserve." John had been
called "a son of thunder." As such the trembling chief thought of him,
ready to hear him pronounce an awful woe. So with a mingled cry of fear
and anguish, he turned his horse and would have fled--a strange sound
and sight for his fellow-robbers.
But St. John had no thunder tones for him, no threats of coming
punishment. The kind shepherd had found the sheep that had been lost.
The father had found the prodigal, without waiting for the wanderer's
return. John sprang toward him. He held out his arms in an affectionate
manner. He called him by tender names. With earnest entreaty he
prevailed on him to stop and listen. As young Saul, when near Damascus
caught sight of Jesus and heard His voice, dropped from his horse to the
ground; so did the young chieftain at the sight and voice of St. John.
With reverence he kneeled before him, and in shame bowed his head to the
ground. Like Peter who had denied the same Lord, the young man wept
bitterly. His cries of self-reproach and his despair echoed strangely in
that rocky defile. As St. John had wept for him, he wept for himself.
Those were truly penitential tears. John still spoke encouragingly. The
young man lifted his head and embraced the knees of the Apostle,
sobbing out, "No hope, no pardon." Then remembering the deeds of his
right hand, defiled with blood, he hid it beneath his robe. St. John
fell on his knees before him and enfolded him in his arms. He grasped
the hand that had been hidden, and bathed it in tears as if he would
wash away its bloody stains, and then kissed it, in thought of the good
he said it should yet perform.
That hand cast away the sword it had wielded in murder, and lovingly,
gratefully held that of John, as the Apostle, and the robber-chief now
penitent and forgiven, together left the wilderness; within sight of the
astonished band; some of whom were greatly touched by what they had seen
and heard, while others were ready to scoff at what they called the
weakness of their leader.
Another tradition is a beautiful illustration of the tenderness and
sympathy which we may judge was increasingly manifest in St. John's
character, the spirit of the Lord "whose tender mercies are over all His
works," the spirit St. John had seen in his Master who noticed the
sparrow falling to the ground. True it is,
"He prayeth well who loveth well
Both man, and bird, and beast.
He prayeth best who loveth best
All things, both great and small;
For the dear Lord who loveth us,
He made and loveth all."
There was a young tame partridge in which St. John took delight and
found recreation in many an hour from which he had turned from labor for
rest. A young hunter anxiously seeking the great Apostle was surprised
to find him in what seemed a frivolous employment. He doubted for a
moment whether this could be he. John asked, "What is that thing which
thou carriest in thy hand?" "A bow," replied the hunter. "Why then is it
unstrung?" said John. "Because," was the answer, "were I to keep it
always strung it would lose its spring and become useless." "Even so,"
replied the Apostle, "be not offended at my brief relaxation, which
prevents my spirit from waxing faint."
We have already alluded to a tradition which is perhaps the best known
of all, and universally accepted. In Ephesus, in extreme old age, too
infirm to walk, St. John was carried as a little child to the church
where he had so long preached. In feebleness his ministry had ended. The
last sermon as such had been preached. He could no longer repeat the
words of Christ he had heard on the mountain, and the sea-shore, and in
the Temple. He could no longer tell of the wonders of which he was the
only surviving witness. In Christians he saw the child-spirit, whether
in old or young. In his old age he was a father to all such as none
other could claim to be. His great theme --his only theme--was love. So
his only words, again and again repeated as he faced the congregation
were "Little children, love one another." And when asked why he repeated
the same thing over and over, he told them it was the Lord's command,
and if they obeyed it, that was enough.
Traditions alone tell of St. John's death. One claims that as his
brother James was the first of the Apostles to suffer martyrdom, he was
the last. Others tell of miraculous preservation from death;--that he
was thrown into a caldron of boiling oil, and drank hemlock, without any
effect upon him. Sometimes he is pictured as holding a cup from which a
viper, representing poison, is departing without doing him any harm.
There is still another story concerning his death. On the last Lord's
Day of his life, after the Holy Communion, he told some of his disciples
to follow him with spades. Leading them to a place of burial, he bid
them dig a grave into which he placed himself, and they buried him up to
the neck. Then in obedience to his command they placed a cloth over his
face and completed the burial. With weeping they turned away and
reported what had been done. But his disciples felt that, not the grave,
but the great church was the fitting place for his burial. So with
solemn service they went to bring his body thither. But on reaching the
grave they found it empty, as he and Peter had found the tomb of their
Lord on Easter morning. Then they remembered the words of Christ to
Peter concerning John, "If I will that he abide till I come, what is
that to thee?"
But there is another tradition stranger still. People refused to believe
that St. John was dead, even though he had been supposed to be, and had
been buried. For centuries his grave was shown at Ephesus. Pilgrims
visiting it beheld a wonderful sight. The ground above it rose and fell,
as if the great Apostle were still breathing as he had done for one
hundred years, while treading the earth which now guarded his immortal
sleep.
Such stories seem strange to us when we remember the chapter he wrote to
correct a mistake made by those who misunderstood his Master's word, and
believed that he would not die until the Lord returned to the earth.
He probably escaped martyrdom which befell his fellow-Apostles. Dying,
probably in Ephesus, we think of him as peacefully entering the mansions
of which he had heard his Lord tell in far-off Jerusalem nearly seventy
years before.