not through the eyes of
another, whatever his authority.
Suppose that we should read the Gospels in this spirit, with an entirely
unbiassed and receptive mind, capable of first-hand impressions, what
would be the probable character of these impressions? The clearest and
deepest of all, I think, would be that the Jesus therein depicted lived
His life on principles so novel that we are able to discover no life
entirely like His in the best lives round about us. We should probably
be struck first of all by certain outward dissimilarities. Thus He was not
only poor, but He did not resent poverty--He beatified it. The things for
which men naturally, and, as we think, laudably strive, such as a settled
position in society and the consideration of others, He did not think
worth seeking at all. He made no use of His abilities for private ends,
which has been the common principle of social life since society began.
He asked nothing of the world, being apparently convinced that nothing
which the world could give Him was worth having. Strangest thing of
all in one who must have been conscious of His own genius, and of the
value of His teachings to mankind, He made not the least effort to
perpetuate these teachings. He wrote no book, provided no biographer,
did none of those things which the humblest man of genius does to
ensure that distant generations shall comprehend and appreciate his
character and message. He was content to speak His deepest truths to
casual listeners. He spent all His wealth of intellect upon inferior
persons, fishermen and the like, who did not comprehend one tithe of
what He said. He was the friend of all who chose to seek His friendship.
He discriminated so little that He even admitted a Judas to His intimacy,
and allowed women tainted with dishonour and impurity to offer Him
public tokens of affection. In all these things He differed absolutely
from any other man who ever lived beneath the public eye. In all these
things He still stands alone; for who, among the saintliest men we
know, has not some innocent pride in his ability, or some preference in
friendship, or some instinctive compliance with social usage, or some
worldly hopes and honourable aims which he shares in common with
the mass of men?
But these outward dissimilarities of conduct disclose a dissimilarity of
soul. Men live for something; for what did Jesus live? And the answer
that leaps upon us like a great light from every page of the Gospels is
plain; He lived for love. If He did not care for praise or honour; if He
regarded even the preservation of His teachings with a divine
carelessness, it was because He had a nobler end in view, the love of
men. He could not live without love, and His supreme aim was to make
Himself loved. And yet it was less a conscious aim, than the natural
working out of His own character. Fishermen by the sea saw Him but
once; instantly they left their boats and followed Him. A man sitting at
the receipt of custom, a hard man we should suppose, little likely to be
swayed by sudden emotions, also sees Him once, and finds his
occupation gone. A beautiful courtesan, beholding Him pass by, breaks
from her lovers, and follows Him into an alien house, where she bathes
His feet with tears and wipes them with the hairs of her head. Mature
women without a word spoken or a plea made, minister to Him of their
substance, and count their lives His. When He sleeps wearied out upon
a rude fishing-boat, there is a pillow for His head, placed there by some
unknown adorer. The men He makes apostles, all but one, count His
smile over-payment for the loss of home, of wife, of children.
Countless throngs of ordinary men and women forget their hunger, and
are content to camp in desert places only to listen to the music of His
voice. Wild and outlawed men, criminals and lepers and madmen,
become as little children at His word, and all the wrongs and bruises
inflicted on them by a cruel world are healed beneath His kindly glance.
Does it matter greatly what He taught? This is how He lived. He lived
in such a way that men saw that love was the only thing worth living
for, that life had meaning only as it had love. And this is the
imperishable tradition of Jesus:
This is His divinity, This His universal plea, Here is One that loveth
thee.
What then is a true Christianity but the accurate reproduction of this
spirit of love, the creation of loving and lovable men and women, who
attract and uplift all around them
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