The moral courage of Jesus.
We see this if we consider—
I. WHAT HE MIGHT HAVE DONE UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES There is no virtue in not doing thus if we cannot do otherwise. But what could Jesus do now?
1. He might have not visited the garden on this night. He knew all that was coming. He knew that the devil of piltering and covetousness had entered Judas, and that he was then in the city betraying him to his thirsty and cruel foes. He entered not the garden in ignorance of what was coming. It would be the easiest thing for him to go elsewhere.
2. He might have escaped before his foes were upon him. Apart from his absolute knowledge of things, the gleaming light and subdued talk of the hostile throng would give him sufficient warning, and he could have made his escape under the cover of friendly trees. His little guard slept fast; but he was awake, and specially sensitive to every approaching sight and sound.
3. He might have disappeared from his foes in their very presence. He might have let them come upon him so as to think that he was in their hands, and then at once vanish away from their very clutches, disappoint their fondest hopes, and make fools of them all.
4. He might, with his power, strike them dead, or into a fit so as to make their hostile attack quite futile. He just showed them what he could do when he said, "I am he;" they went backwards, and fell to the ground. What produced this? Was it a flash of his Divinity from without striking terror to his assailants, or a flash of memory from within of his mighty deeds? or was it the effect of the simple moral courage and majesty of that defenseless but heroic One? However, they fell to the ground—a striking illustration of what he might have done.
5. He might have received almighty help from his Father. If he at this time had not many earthly friends, and those not very strong nor skilful in human warfare, he was rich in heavenly allies, and these were all at his command, as he told one of his followers, "Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray to my Father," etc.? One of these with the brush of his wing slew the mighty Assyrian army, and one of them would slay all Christ's enemies it he so wished. But he did not use his power nor influence in his own defense. He had sufficient courage to stand all alone.
II. WHAT HE DID.
1. He remained in the garden. He was perfectly self-composed. He had a special work to do in the garden. There the coming battle was morally fought and won. There he trained himself for the encounter, edged his sword and put on his armor, and viewed the battle-field. He was too busily engaged with his Father and the business of his life to be disturbed by the approaching foe.
2. He went forth to meet his enemies. He had finished his work there, and his language and action were, "Let us arise, and go hence." He went forth to meet them. His courage was not rash, but discreet, and under the guidance of perfect wisdom. He never went forth to meet his enemies before, for his hour was not come; but now his hour was come, and as soon as he heard the clock strike it, instead of waiting their arrival, he went forth to meet them. He had a great work to do in an hour, and there was no time to lose. His courage completely spoilt their anticipated sport of a chase or a fight.
3. He made himself known to them. He could ask them with firmness, "Whom seek ye?" but tremblingly they replied, "Jesus of Nazareth." The Roman soldiers had unflinchingly faced many mighty foes, but this defenseless Jesus of Nazareth overpowered them with his majesty. "I am he" proved too much for them. They fell to the ground. And the collision would have proved fatal to them were it not for the buffers of his goodness and mercy. Judas's kiss was unnecessary; Jesus introduced himself.
4. He went forth, although knowing all. '" Knowing all things," etc. His knowledge in one sense was disadvantageous to him. There is a certain amount of ignorance connected with all human bravery. Hope of escape and victory is an element in the heroism of the bravest soldier. If we knew all our future, it would go far to unnerve our courage and paralyze our energies; but Christ knew all. He had mentally gone through all the tortures of the next few hours. He knew that death with all its pains and shame was but a drop to the ocean of his agonies. He knew infinitely more than the soldiers and the disciples. They only knew the outward; he knew the inward. They only knew the visible; he knew the invisible. They only knew a part; he knew all. The weight of death was nothing to the weight of sin he had to hear. He knew this in all its bearings and bitterness; but in spite of all, such was his courage that, in this hour of trial, he did not flag, but went forth.
III. THE SOURCES OF HIS COURAGE. What courage was his?
1. The courage of an exceptionally great nature. We must have an adequate cause to every effect. The heroism of Jesus, although human, yet often towered above it and became Divine. He was the Word made flesh, and God manifested in the flesh. He was a perfect Man, but ever united with Divinity—full of Divine life which made him triumphant over death and its agonies.
2. The courage of loving obedience to his Father's will. He was ever conscious of this. It was his delight, and the inspiration of his life. "My meat and my drink," etc.; "The cup that my Father hath given," etc.? It is bitter, but I shall drink from his hand whatever may be the consequences.
3. The courage of conscious rectitude and innocency. Guilt and imposture make a man a coward, while rectitude and innocency make him a hero. Conscious of the Divinity of his mission, the purity of his life, the guilelessness of his spirit, and the rectitude of his motives, Jesus went forth to meet his foes; and this consciousness raised him so far above timidity as to clothe him with the majesty of Divine heroism, which sent them reeling to the ground.
4. The courage of perfect knowledge of results. He not only knew his sufferings, but also his joys; not only the shame, but also the glory; not only the apparent defeat, but the subsequent grand victories. He could see life in his death for myriads, and glory in the highest. With the agonizing groans of Gethsemane were mingled the anthems of triumph, and in the gleam of torches and lanterns he could see the world flooded with light, and heaven with glory and happiness.
5. The courage of self-sacrificing and disinterested love. In the greatest bravery of selfishness there is an element of cowardice; but in Christ there was not a taint of selfishness,—his life was absolutely a sacrifice for others. He would not implicate others in his hour of trial, but gave himself to save them—and all this was voluntary. The volunteer is ever more courageous than the pressed soldier. The courage of Jesus was that of a volunteer, and his heroism that of Divine and self-sacrificing love.
LESSONS.
1. The foes of Jesus were the unconscious ministers of Divine justice demanding his life as a raison for sin. They were inspired by hatred to Jesus, but this hatred was overruled to answer the most benevolent purpose.
2. Jesus personally and willingly gave his life up for this purpose. He was most anxious that justice should be paid in the genuine coin, and not in counterfeit. "If ye seek me, let," etc.
3. In consequence of his meeting the demand of justice by his life, he demands the release of his friends. "if ye seek me," etc. He does not ask this as a favor, but demands as his right.
4. This demand is most readily granted. In this instance they were not touched. Justice cannot resist the logic of Christ's death and intercession with regard to believers. If the accepted surety pay, the debtor is free.
5. The infinite importance to be united by faith with Christ. Then the chastisement of our peace is upon him, but otherwise it must be upon ourselves.—B.T.
HOMILIES BY D. YOUNG
A hallowed spot.
There are depths and unique things in this Gospel which make it easily to be accounted for that some should reckon it the choicest of the Gospels. It has what the others have not; but when we compare the others with it, to look for their peculiar excellences, then we find how the others have what this Gospel lacks. One would have thought beforehand that John would have enlarged on the mysteries and sorrows of Gethsemane, but, strangely enough, he passes them over without a word. Here is one of the illustrations of how real a thing inspiration is, these Gospels being not written after the fashion of human books, though they came through human minds. If John had been asked why he omitted to enlarge on the Passion, he could hardly have told. But though John says nothing of how Jesus began to be sorrowful and very heavy even unto death, though he says nothing of that sweat which was like great drops of blood falling to the ground, yet we are sure all these dreadful experiences must have been often in his grateful recollection. Gethsemane was the last place where Jesus and his disciples had free speech before his death, and it was well that they should have the recollection of it as a place where they had often been. Many things at many times Jesus must have told them there, and the remembrance of the place would bring up the remembrance of the words. We must not make too much of this mere locality, even if we were quite certain of it. Every Christian must have his own hallowed places. Every Christian must have places, the recollection of which is sweeter far to him than ever the mere sight of traditional spots in Palestine can be. We must have holy, memorable places in our own experience, and then perhaps we may get some good from considering the so-called holy places of the so-called Holy Land.—Y.