into a single sentence, I do not think we could find a better one than
that which the apostle Paul uses when he says of him that—“_He humbled
himself._” Phil. ii: 8. Before he came into our world he was “in the
form of God, and thought it not robbery to be equal with God.” This
means that he was God. Now if he had chosen to become an angel, holy,
and pure, and good, he would have had to humble himself very much, even
for that. But, instead of becoming an angel, he became a man. And, in
becoming a man, he took our nature upon him in its fallen state. He was
made like us in all points, except sin. How he humbled himself here!
And, in coming into our world, if he had chosen to come as one of the
richest men in it,—as a great king or emperor—that would have been an
act of great humiliation. But he came as a poor man. He was one of the
poorest men that ever lived on the earth. He had made the world, and was
the owner of all its treasures, and yet he could say of himself with
truth—“The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but
the Son of man hath not where to lay his head.” What humiliation there
was here! We see his humiliation in the poverty and suffering that he
endured. His whole life was an act of humiliation. But how greatly this
humiliation was increased during the time of his trial! Think how his
back was torn by the cruel scourges! What humiliation was there! Think
how he was mocked, and insulted! Think how the soldiers put an old purple
robe upon him: how they platted a crown of thorns, and put it upon his
head; how they put a reed in his hand in mockery for a sceptre: how they
bowed the knee before him in scorn, and cried—“Hail! king of the Jews!”
How wonderful this was O, never let us forget the humiliation of Christ!
And when we think of all this—how can we, as Christians, ever feel proud?
Our great duty is, as the apostle says, to be “clothed with humility.”
No wonder that Augustine, one of the old fathers of the early church,
when asked—“What is the first thing for a Christian to learn?” should
have said—“humility.” “What is the second?”—“humility.” “And what is the
third?” should still have said—“humility.”
“Examples of Humility.” A converted South Sea Islander was helping to
translate the New Testament into his native language. On coming to the
passage, “Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us,
that we should be called the sons of God;” I. John iii: 1, he hastened
to Mr. Williams, the missionary and said, “No, no, this is too much, too
much! let us say—‘Now are we allowed to kiss God’s feet.’” That man was
clothed with humility.
A pious nobleman in England was in the habit of attending a prayer
meeting in the country village where he lived, and where a few of the
poor people of the neighborhood were accustomed to assemble on a week-day
evening. When he first came in they were surprised to see him, and they
all rose up at once to offer him the best seat in the room. This troubled
him greatly. He gently said to them, “Please take your seats my friends,
and have the kindness not to do this again. When I go to the ‘House of
Lords,’ I go as one of the lords of the realm. But when I come to this
cottage prayer meeting, _I come simply as a disciple of Jesus among my
fellow disciples_, and must be allowed to take any seat that may be
empty.” That nobleman was clothed with humility.
“The Humble King.” A French monarch was found one day by some of his
attendants engaged in instructing out of the Bible a boy belonging to his
cook.
They said it was beneath his dignity as the King of France to be engaged
in teaching the child of his cook. His answer was a noble one. “My
friends,” said he, “this boy has _a soul that is as precious as mine,
and it was bought with the same precious blood_. If it was not beneath
the dignity of my Saviour, the King of heaven, to die for him, it is not
beneath my dignity as king of France to tell him what has been done for
his salvation.”
That king was clothed with humility. The humiliation of Christ is the
fourth lesson taught us by this trial.
_The last lesson we learn from the history of the trial is about—THE
GLORY OF CHRIST._
Perhaps some may think it strange to speak of the glory of Christ in
connection with this part of his history. Here we see him betrayed, and
deserted by his own disciples. He is delivered into the hands of his
enemies. They pretend to try him. But it is only the form of a trial
through which he is made to pass. He is charged with great crimes. These
cannot be proved against him. But still he is condemned to the most
disgraceful of all deaths. He is handed to the soldiers to do what they
please with him. And is it right to speak of the _glory_ of Christ in
connection with such scenes as these? Yes. For this was just what Jesus
did himself. It was, as he was about to enter on all this humiliation
and suffering, when Judas went out from his presence to betray him,
that Jesus said:—“_Now_ is the Son of man glorified.” Thus he himself
connected the thought of his glory with these very scenes. And surely he
was not mistaken. He knew what he was saying.
Now just think what it is in which true glory consists. It is not in
wearing fine clothes. It is not in occupying high positions. It is not
in having people say fine and flattering things about us. No; but it is
in thinking, and feeling, and saying, and doing, and suffering that
which is right and according to the will of God. And _this_ is just the
position that Jesus was occupying during his trial. He was fulfilling the
will of God in things that were the hardest of all for him to do and to
suffer. And _that_ was what made him glorious.
If we were asked to point to that part of our Saviour’s life in which he
appears to us in the greatest glory, there would probably be considerable
difference of opinion among us. Some of us, no doubt, would point to
his transfiguration; some to the times when he walked upon the water,
or controlled the winds and the waves with his word; and others would
point to the times when he healed the sick, or raised the dead, and cast
out devils. But it was not so. No; but it was when he was betrayed and
forsaken—when he was condemned to death, and mocked, and insulted by his
enemies that Jesus appeared most glorious: for it was then that he was
showing, in the strongest possible light, his desire to do his Father’s
will and the greatness of his love for the people he came to save. It is
not clothing, but character that makes us great or glorious. And the more
we try to be like Jesus, in doing the will of God as he did it, in this
part of his life, the greater will be the glory belonging to us.
[Illustration: “Daughters of Jerusalem, Weep Not for Me”
And when they had mocked him, they took off the purple from him, and
put his own clothes on him, and led him out to crucify him.—And there
followed him a great company of people, and of women, which also
bewailed and lamented him. But Jesus turning unto them said, Daughters
of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your
children. For, behold, the days are coming, in the which they shall say,
... to the mountains, Fall on us; and to the hills, Cover us. For if they
do these things in a green tree, what shall be done in the dry?—_St. Mark
xv: 20; St. Luke xxiii: 27-31._
_NOTE BY THE ARTIST_
_Needless to say, the route followed by the actual “Via Dolorosa” is lost
beyond recovery, its very direction being entirely dependent upon that
of Calvary, the site of which has for long been a matter of controversy.
In any case the veritable Path of Sorrow lies concealed beneath a mass
of débris, the ruins of the ancient city upon which modern Jerusalem is
built. The street in the painting does not form part of the traditional
route; it is the “Street of the Shoemakers,” a coincidence which recalls
the mediæval legend of “The Wandering Jew,” who, it may be remembered,
was a follower of this craft._
67]
“The True Hero.” A number of boys were playing after school one day. The
playground was on the bank of a river. One of the biggest boys was named
Tom Price. He was the strongest boy in the school. He loved to get up
quarrels among the boys to show how easily he could whip any of them. But
there was one boy in the school who never would fight. His name was Joe
Wilson. He was not so big or so strong as Tom Price. But it was not this
which made him unwilling to fight. He was trying to be a Christian. He
knew it was wrong to fight, and so he always refused to do it.
One day Tom Price agreed with some of the other boys to try and force a
fight on Joe Wilson. So while they were playing after school, Tom knocked
Joe’s cap off his head, and it fell into the river.
“Tom threw your cap over on purpose, Joe,” said one of the boys; “fight
him for it.”
“Yes, give it to him, Wilson,” said the other boys, “we’ll see that you
have fair play.”
Price squared off and stood in a fighting position. “I won’t fight,”
said Wilson. “I’m sorry you threw the cap over, Price; for it was all
but new, and I don’t see any fun in such mischief. But, I’m not going to
fight about it.”
“Come on, if you dare,” said Price, shaking his fist at him. All the boys
gathered round and urged Wilson to “go on, and give it to him.”
“No, I don’t think it right to fight,” said Wilson, “and I won’t do it.”
“Coward! coward! he’s afraid,” cried the boys. “I am not a coward,” said
Wilson; “I dare do anything that’s right. But this is not right, and I
won’t do it.”
“Go home, coward! go home, coward!” shouted the boys after him, as he
turned to go home.
He had not gone far before there was a sound of a heavy splash. “He’s in!
He’ll drown!—he can’t swim! Price is drowning,” cried the boys as they
stood on the edge of the bank.
Joe Wilson heard these shouts and ran to the bank of the river. He saw
Price struggling in the stream. The other boys were running about and
shouting, but they were afraid to go in. In a moment Joe Wilson threw off
his jacket, stepped back a few paces—ran—and jumped into the river. He
swam out to Price—caught him by the hair of his head, and managed, though
with great difficulty and at the risk of his own life, to bring him
safely to the shore. Wilson walked quietly home, not only to change his
wet clothes, but also to avoid the praise of those who but a moment ago
were calling him a coward.
An old gentleman was standing there who had witnessed this whole scene.
As soon as Wilson was gone, he called the boys to him and said: “Boys!
learn a lesson from what has just taken place. Don’t mistake a hero for a
coward next time. The boy who is afraid to do what he knows to be wrong
in God’s sight, is the true hero. He is not afraid of anything else; not
afraid of man—of danger—or of death.”
The point of greatest glory in Joe Wilson’s conduct that day was not when
he bravely plunged into the river. No; but it was when he nobly stood his
ground among his companions, and said “I think it wrong to fight; and I
won’t do it.”
And so, even amidst the sorrowful scenes of our Saviour’s trials, we see
his glory shining out in the way in which he did and suffered what was
according to the will of God.
And from this study of the trial of our Saviour, let us carry away with
us the five lessons of which we have spoken.
These are the lesson about the weak ruler:—the wicked priests:—the
patience—the humiliation—and the glory of Christ.
THE CRUCIFIXION
We read in St. Matthew’s gospel these three simple, but solemn words:
“_They crucified him._” Chap. xxvii: 35. Here we have set before us the
greatest event in the history of our Saviour while he was on earth. They
tell us of the most important event that ever took place in our own
world, or in any other world. We have no reason to suppose that Jesus
ever took upon himself the nature of any other race of creatures, as he
did take our nature. We have no reason to suppose that he ever died, in
any other world, as he died in ours. How wonderful this makes the thought
of his crucifixion! And how diligently we should study it, and try to
understand what it was intended to teach! This is what we come now to
do. And in doing this, the two great things for us chiefly to consider,
are—_The history of the Crucifixion; and its Lessons_.
And in looking at this history the first thing for us to notice is—_the
place of the crucifixion_.
In speaking of this place, St. Matt. xxvii: 33, says it was—“a place
called Golgotha, that is to say a place of a skull.” St. Luke xxiii:
33, says it was a place “called Calvary.” Golgotha is a Hebrew word,
and Calvary is a Latin word; but they both mean the same thing, namely
a skull, or the place of a skull. Some have thought that this name was
given to it because it was the spot where public execution took place
and criminals were buried. But there is no proof of this. It is often
spoken of as “the _hill_ of Calvary”: but it is never so called in the
New Testament. It is supposed to have received its name from the fact
of its being a smooth and rounded piece of ground, resembling somewhat
the shape of a skull, and looking like what we call the brow of a hill.
Exactly where this place was we cannot tell. In the Church of the Holy
Sepulchre at Jerusalem they show a hole in a rock, which they pretend to
say was the very hole in which the cross of Jesus was placed. But it is
impossible to prove this. And the thought which shows how unlikely this
is to be the Calvary where Jesus died is this, that Jesus died _outside_
the walls of Jerusalem, but this is _inside_ the walls, and we know that
the city at that time was much larger than the present city. The apostle
Paul tells us that “Jesus suffered _without the gate_.” Heb. xiii: 13. We
are sure then that Calvary, or Golgotha, the place of the crucifixion,
was outside the walls of Jerusalem, but nigh unto the city. This is all
that we can find about it with any certainty.
The _time of the crucifixion_ is the next thing to consider. It was
on Friday of the last week of his earthly life. What is called “Good
Friday,” in the week before Easter, known as Passion Week, is kept by a
large part of the Christian Church in memory of this event.
As to the hour of the day when the crucifixion took place, there is some
difference in the statements made by the different evangelists. St.
Matthew says nothing about the hour when Jesus was crucified. He only
says that during the time of the crucifixion, “from the sixth hour there
was darkness over all the land unto the ninth hour.” St. Matt. xxvii:
45. This means from twelve o’clock at noon, till three o’clock in the
afternoon. St. Luke and St. John both say that it was—“_about_ the sixth
hour,” when this great event took place. But it is clear from their way
of speaking of it, that they did not wish to be understood as stating the
time very exactly. St. Mark says—ch. xv: 25, “And it was the third hour,
and they crucified him.” There seems to be a disagreement between these
statements. But it is easy enough to reconcile the difference. There are
two ways of doing this. One is by supposing that when St. Mark says: “It
was the third hour, and they crucified him,” he was speaking of the time
when they began to make preparations for the crucifixion, while St. Luke
and St. John refer to the time when the preparations were all finished,
and the crucifixion had actually taken place.
But there is another way of reconciling this apparent difference. The
Jews were accustomed to divide their day into four parts, corresponding
with the four watches into which the night was divided. Beginning at six
o’clock in the morning, which was the time when their day commenced,
they sometimes called the first three hours, from six to nine o’clock,
the first hour. The next three hours, from nine to twelve o’clock, they
called the second hour; and then, according to this way of reckoning, the
three hours following, from twelve to three o’clock, would be the third
hour. And if _this_ was the way in which St. Mark was speaking, then his
_third_ hour would agree exactly with the sixth hour mentioned by St.
Luke and St. John. And so, when we think of the time of the crucifixion,
we may remember that Jesus hung upon the cross, in dreadful agonies, from
“about” twelve o’clock at noon-day until three in the afternoon. O, how
long and painful those hours must have seemed to him!
The next thing to notice is—_the manner of the crucifixion_. Suppose
that you and I had been standing on Calvary at the time of our Saviour’s
death: what should we have seen? Why, lying there on the ground, we
should have seen the great wooden cross, on which Jesus was to suffer. It
is made of two pieces. There is one long, upright piece of timber, and a
shorter one fastened across this upright beam, at the upper end. There
is Jesus standing by—bound, and bleeding, and crowned with thorns. The
soldiers take him and lay his body on the cross, with his back towards
it. They stretch out his arms to their full length, along the upper beam
of the cross. They take heavy hammers and drive great rough nails through
the palms of his hands, and through the tender part of his feet. How
terrible the suffering caused by every blow of those hammers! And see,
when this is done, the soldiers raise up the cross, and place the lower
end of it in a hole they had prepared for it. It comes down with a jar.
What terrible tortures that jar sends through every part of the suffering
Saviour’s frame! About the middle of the cross is a projecting piece of
wood, to form a sort of seat, so as to prevent the whole weight of the
body from hanging from the nails, and tearing the flesh of the hands and
feet. And there the Son of God is left to suffer tortures that cannot be
expressed, till death shall come and bring relief.
_The witnesses of the crucifixion_ is the next thing of which to speak.
Near the cross was his mother and the good women who were her companions.
John is the only one of the apostles found near the cross at the time
when their Lord was crucified. The soldiers and the priests were there.
The walls of Jerusalem were, no doubt, lined with people looking
anxiously on; and crowds of strangers were standing by, beholding this
sad event; for Jerusalem was always full of persons from a distance at
that season who came to keep the feast of the Passover. And then, if our
eyes had been opened, as the eyes of Elisha’s servant were, (II. Kings
vi: 17), so that we could have seen as spirits do, we should have beheld
multitudes of angels among the spectators of the crucifixion. We should
have seen them hovering over the cross and gazing with wonder on the
sight that met their view there—the Son of God—hanging on the cross in
agonies and blood!
_The wonders attending the crucifixion_ is another thing to notice. There
was the darkness over all the land from the sixth to the ninth hour, or
from twelve to three o’clock. This was not a natural darkness caused by
an eclipse of the sun, for the Jewish Passover was held at the time of
the full moon, and it is impossible to have an eclipse then. No; it was a
miraculous darkness. The sun hid his face, as if he was ashamed to look
on and see
“When God, the Mighty Maker died,
For man, the creature’s sin.”
And then there was an earthquake. The great globe itself seemed to
tremble at the thought of the dreadful deed that was taking place on its
surface. The solid rocks were rent in pieces. The graves were opened, and
many of the dead buried in them rose, and came back to life. And then, at
the same time, the vail of the temple—that thick, strong vail—which hung
between the holy place and the most holy place, without any one touching
it, was rent in twain from the top to the bottom. This was done by
miracle. If you and I had been there, with our eyes opened, as I said a
little while ago, we should probably have seen two mighty angels, taking
hold of that vail and rending it. These were the wonders that attended
the crucifixion.
And then there are _the words spoken by Jesus on the cross_, to notice.
Seven times the blessed Lord opened his mouth and spoke as he hung amidst
the torturing agonies of the cross. The first time he spoke there, was to
pray for his murderers. St. Luke xxiii: 34. Then he spoke to his disciple
John, who was standing near the cross, and asked him to take care of his
mother. St. John xix: 25-27. Then he answered the prayer of the dying
thief, and told him he should be with him in paradise that day. St. Luke
xxiii: 39-43. Then he said—“I thirst.” St. John xix: 28. Then came the
awful cry which he uttered when his Father in heaven forsook him and left
him alone. St. Matt. xxvii: 46. Then he said—“It is finished!” St. John
xix: 30. Then he “cried with a loud voice,” and said—“Father, into thy
hands I commend my spirit.” St. Luke xxiii: 46. And then he meekly bowed
his head and died.
Such is the history of the crucifixion—the most solemn, the most awful,
the most important event that ever took place since the world was made.
[Illustration: Jesus Attached to the Cross
And there were also two other, malefactors, led with him to be put to
death. And when they were come to the place, which is called Calvary,
there they crucified him, and the malefactors, one on the right hand,
and the other on the left. Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them; for
they know not what they do. And they parted his raiment, and cast lots.
And the people stood beholding. And the rulers also with them derided
_him_, saying, He saved others; let him save himself, if he be Christ,
the chosen of God. And the soldiers also mocked him, coming to him, and
offering him vinegar. And saying, If thou be the king of the Jews, save
thyself. And a superscription also was written over him in letters of
Greek, and Latin, and Hebrew, THIS IS THE KING OF THE JEWS.—_St. Luke
xxiii: 32-38._
_NOTE BY THE ARTIST_
_In spite of all that has been spoken and written on the subject, the
site of the place called “Golgotha” remains, as has been said, and must
always remain, undecided. But to those who can maintain an open mind,
unbiased by sentimental associations, the weight of evidence bears
heavily against the traditional Calvary (which shares with many other
“sacred sites” the shelter of the church of the Holy Sepulchre) and in
favor of a little knoll overhanging the grotto of Jeremiah, about an
arrow-flight beyond the Damascus Gate of Jerusalem._
68]
A great many very valuable lessons are taught us by the history of the
crucifixion. We can speak of only five.
The first lesson taught us by the crucifixion is—_the lesson of
forgiveness_.
It was probably while the Roman soldiers were driving the rough nails
through his tender hands and feet, or just after the cross was set up in
its place, that Jesus taught us this lesson. He looked on his murderers
with a pitying eye. If he had asked God to punish them, as they deserved
for their cruelty, or if he had spoken to them ever so severely, it
would not have been surprising. But though they were causing him so much
suffering, when he had done them no harm, still there was not one angry
feeling in his heart towards them, and not one unkind word fell from his
lips. Instead of this, he lifted up his eyes to heaven, and offered the
prayer—“_Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do._” Here we
have the most perfect pattern of forgiveness the world has ever known. If
we wish to be true followers of Jesus, we must try to be like him in this
respect. We must learn well this lesson of forgiveness.
“Examples of Forgiveness.” Dr. Duff, the late excellent missionary to
India, once read our Saviour’s sermon on the mount to some Hindoo young
men whom he was teaching. As he read on he came to the passage in which
Jesus says, “I say unto you love your enemies, bless them that persecute
you, and pray for them that despitefully use you, and persecute you.”
One of the young men was so impressed by our Saviour’s words that he
exclaimed, with great earnestness, “O how beautiful! how divine! this
is the truth!” And for days and weeks afterwards he would exclaim, from
time to time, “_Love your enemies!_ who ever heard such teaching? How
beautiful this is! This is heavenly teaching!”
“A Forgiving Boy.” “Mamma,” said little Charley, “now I’ve got a new
sled, what shall I do with my old one?” Presently he added, “Mamma,
there’s a chance to do something real good.”
“What is it, Charley?”