YALE
DIVINITY SCHOOL
LIBRARY

Gift of
The Reverend J. Howard Smith

STUDIES IN THE SERMON
ON THE MOUNT

STUDIES IN
THE SERMON ON
THE MOUNT

BY

REV. THE HON. E. LYTTELTON, M.A.

' ' / believe that the root of almost every schism ani heresy
from which the Christian Church has ever suffered, has been
the effort of men to earn, rather than to receive, their salva
tion." — RUSKIN.

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK AND BOMBAY
1905
All rights reserved

PREFACE

The following Studies form an inquiry into such
rehgious and ethical questions as are raised by an
attentive consideration of the words of the Sermon
on the Mount. I have tried to deal only with those
topics which are fairly suggested by the actual
precepts recorded in the three chapters of St.
Matthew's Gospel.
Lengthy though some of the sections are, the
book; is but a fragment. Scarcely anything is said
about such controversial subjects as the relation
between the Matthaean and Lukan reports, or on
Critical and textual questions, except where they
seem to be bound up with the interpretation of
the, words. The Higher Criticism is valuable and
deeply interesting, as regards the methods of writ-
1 ing employed by the Evangelists, but it is not
probable that it will seriously impugn the authen
ticity of the sublime words attributed to our Lord ;
liot, at least till many, years have passed by. And
meantime , there are many thoughtful students
who wish to "get: hold of the meaning of the
wojrds ,as they have been handed down. A
further reason for the omission is that any reader
can ascertain the present position of Higher

vi PREFACE
Criticism by consulting Dr. Wotaw's learned and
most thorough article in the Bible Dictionary
(Hastings ; in the Supplementary Volume).
I have also designedly quoted as little as possible
from other writers, only now and then in a foot
note acknowledging a debt or pointing out what
seems to me to be a mistake.
Again, a great deal of interesting matter might
have been collected in the way of allusions to
modern literature where topics that belong to the
Sermon are handled. This task is hardly attempted ;
partly from considerations of space and time ;
partly because others have done it or might do
it far better than I could hope to do it myself.
But the most serious omission is that of other
passages in Christ's recorded teaching which touch
the same problems as the Sermon touches. The
plan generally adopted — not always — in this book
is to consider the verses in St. Matthew's chapters
seriatim, and almost in isolation from other pre
cepts which either limit or expand them, The
excuse for this method is that our Lord certainly
delivered many of His most striking sayings with
out the qualifications of them which we now can
gather from other texts. If, then, the precepts are
isolated there is perhaps no reason why the interpre
tation should not be so also ; so long as the reader
bears in mind that other texts must be compared
before any conclusions are taken as fixed. I have
not tried to draw conclusions so much as to suggest
legitimate lines of thought, starting from what the
sayings actually mean.

PREFACE vii
It hardly needs to be said that such a book as
this is not intended to be taken up and read
through, but to be consulted by any one who
may be studying particular subjects or passages.
Perhaps the chapters to which this caution least
applies would be the Introduction, the preamble to
The Beatitudes, the Corollary on the title Chris
tian ; and the Appendix on the word " Hypocrite."
I have to acknowledge my obligations to the
Rev. W. O. Burrows for kind suggestions on the
Introduction and part of the Beatitudes. The
Appendix was read by Dr. Rashdall. E. LYTTELTON.
Eton, 1905.

CONTENTS

PAGE
Introduction  i
I. The Beatitudes  -37
II. The Salt of the Earth . 113
III. The Light of the World .... 120
IV. Christ the Fulfiller  125
V. "Thou Shalt not Kill" . . .135
VI. The Gift Before the Altar. . . .141
VII. "Agree with thine Adversary Quickly" 150
VIII. The Law of Adultery . . . 157
IX. Plucking out the Eye and Cutting off
the Hand  165
X. The Teaching of Christ about Divorce . 174
XI. "Swear not at All"  185
XII. Turning the Cheek . . . . 193
XIII. "Love thine Enemy" . ... 200
XIV. Righteous for Men's Applause . . 209
XV. When Ye do Alms  218
XVI. The Hypocrites at Prayer . . 228
XVII. The Believers at Prayer . . 232
XVIII. The Lord's Prayer . . . . 238
XIX. Fasting ... 264
XX. "Lay not up for Yourselves" . . 275

XXI. The Lamp of the Body is the Eye
XXII. Be not Anxious
XXIII. Judging Others.
XXIV. The Mote and the Beam
XXV. Pearls before Swine
XXVI. Ask and it shall be Given
XXVII. The Strait Gate and Narrow Way
XXVIII. The Prophets in Sheep's Clothing
XXIX. Not Every One that Saith unto Me, Lord
Lord . . ...
XXX. Many will Say to Me in that Day
XXXI. The House on the Sand
XXXII. Corollary on the Meaning of Christian
Appendix 

282288
3°5
3H 313319 323
333
34i349
358 368
374

STUDIES IN THE SERMON
ON THE MOUNT
INTRODUCTION
The Discourse of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, to which
has been given the title of the Sermon on the Mount,
has evoked, even more remarkably than other portions
of His teaching, the admiration of mankind. It is not
uncommon to hear people say that it gives them all
they require for Christian doctrine. Expressions also
are used implying that if men honestly obeyed the
precepts of the Sermon in their daily conduct, the
bewildering perplexities of modern social life would
be smoothed away, and that in their relations with
each other both individuals and groups of men would
find equilibrium and stable peace. The first opinion
is based on the idea that the doctrine of the Sermon
is simple and easy ; the second assumes that it gives
practical directions for the conduct of life.
Under the conviction, however, that these two
assumptions are shallow and quite incapable of veri
fication, I have thought it advisable to invite the
reader before studying the different passages of the
Sermon to consider attentively what is the special
quality in it which appeals so powerfully to the heart
of man ; and the examination of this question will
involve an inquiry into its main drift and purpose. A

2 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
Not till this is done, or at least honestly attempted,
can we make clear to ourselves how cogent is the
claim of the Sermon upon our best attentiveness and
power of thought.
First, then, it is evident that we are not given in it
any exhaustive code of precepts as to man's different
duties in life. This has often been remarked before,
but we are apt to forget that this particular omission
is certain to cause a peculiar disappointment in any
serious-minded reader. Men naturally crave for rules
of conduct, since we are all strongly disposed to
shift the responsibility and the pain of making moral
decisions on to some one else, and a list of tabulated
rules, however insufficient and inelastic, would at least
offer the advantage of saving some necessity of think
ing on complex problems of duty. Indeed, some
such feeling as this must have been at the bottom
of the Jewish reverence for the Mosaic Law and the
rabbinical ordinances built upon it.
But no sooner do we turn to Christ's Sermon to
gather from it directions how to behave in regard to
various ethical questions than we discover that in this
respect it is profoundly unsatisfying. Not only are
very many questions wholly unnoticed, but the treat
ment of those which are touched is so paradoxical and
apparently so inapplicable to human life, that we find
ourselves, to our dismay, not spared the trouble of
thinking but powerfully stimulated to think. To get
anything of guidance for conduct out of these verses,
we have to notice metaphors and get below the out
ward form of words, and decide how far the parabolic
cast of phraseology may be pressed ; we have to settle
why we abandon the literal fulfilment of the precepts,
and whether we are to take much account of Oriental
forms of speech and of Jewish modes of life pre
vailing in the first century of our era. And when

INTRODUCTION 3
we have done all this and more besides, we notice
that there are whole tracts of human life on which
apparently no ray of light falls from Christ's words.
Much more might be said to show that if any one
hopes to find in this discourse a vade mecum in the
problems of life, designed to give him an easy guidance
through practical perplexities, he will be woefully
disappointed. But though many sayings in the Sermon are
paradoxical and unpractical, yet it may perhaps be
supposed that there is a residuum to which this de
scription does not apply, and that the popular estimate
of the Sermon is an indication that men try seriously
to shape their lives in accordance with the more
intelligible of ;the maxims. But this is not so. If the
estimate is to be tested by the relation between the
Sermon and practical life, what do we find ? Almost
the first principle which a young student lays down
for himself in interpreting the precepts is that a literal
obedience is not required : therefore we must obey
them in spirit. Now this is vastly more difficult than
the literal obedience, and it is greatly to be feared that
the formula is often made the excuse for not consider
ing further what is the real bearing of the injunctions
on our lives and practice. Men, by some strange
triumph of mental indolence, are able to say that such
a command as that about turning the cheek is not
to be taken literally, and there leave the subject as if
all questions concerning it were for ever laid to rest.
They do not perceive that, so far from having solved
the difficulty, they have succeeded in stating it in a
peculiarly severe and exacting form. They have
specified and made clear to themselves the claim of
the teaching on their allegiance and submission ; and
then, by the whole tenor of their lives, show that its
application is a subject outside the horizon of their

4 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
thought. It must be admitted that an admiration for
the Word of God which yields such a result as this is
a miserable travesty of the obedience enjoined by the
closing words of chapter vii.
To explain, then, the general admiration for this
discourse by saying that it contains exhaustive or
simple directions for ordinary life, couched in language
of great beauty and power, is most unsatisfactory.
The precepts are obviously not exhaustive nor intended
to be : and as soon as they are attentively considered
they are found to be the reverse of simple. But there
is one prevailing characteristic of them which must
give some indication of the object of our inquiry.
'They are all, ultimately, based on a certain view of
* God's relation to man, namely, that we are the chil
dren of a Heavenly Father who cares for us and
guides our lives. Thus our lives are in every respect
to have a Godward aim. ¦*
That this characteristic is less apparent in some
sayings than in others is, jio doubt, to be admitted.
But if we believe that, a^ Plato used to teach, man
is distinguished* from animals by always aiming
at something, we shall agree that there will be an
enormous difference in the character of his aims
according as he does or does not clearly conceive,, of
an Almighty God who loves him and helps him.'' If
he has such a clear conception and belief he is at
once supplied with a whole series of motives and
principles whereby he can live ; but speaking roughly
on a difficult subject, we may say that if he has not,
then he is almost of necessity driven back on another
series of motives and principles which, though some
times connected with the first, are different. They
are such as we call worldly. The first may be briefly
described as based on filial trust in an unseen Being ; ^
the second are dictated by the prevailing desire to

INTRODUCTION 5
secure what the world offers in and for itself : fame
and pleasure, both terms being very widely interpreted.
Now, making all allowance for the obvious facts that
outwardly there will often be no difference in the
conduct we call Godward and that which we call
worldly, and again that there are many motives and
principles which are rather based on a love of good
ness than on the consciousness of a Personal God, it
seems probable that if human lives are to be divided
at all into two classes, no line of division can be found
more appropriate to the facts of the case than that
given by the adjectives worldly and Godward, earthly
and heavenly, carnal and spiritual. In spite of all the
vast tangle of ethical and spiritual principles which we
find at work in human lives, the subtle blendings,
deceptive shows and false professions, yet we our
selves can discern pretty clearly that each man is
looking mainly one way or the other, either to the
things of this life or to those of heaven. But it is
a patently obvious characteristic of Christ's teaching
first to represent this line of division as deep and
decisive ; secondly, to assume that lives lived on one
side of it, the Godward, are rightly lived, those on the
other side, the worldly, are wrongly lived. In other
words, the Sermon on the Mount appeals throughout
to a high and simple religious instinct as an opera
tive principle in human life. Can we say that in this
characteristic we have the key to its unique position
among all statements of doctrine which the world
has ever heard ?
How far this question may be answered in the
affirmative it is partly the object of the following
study to ascertain. But the point immediately to be
attended to is this: that this peculiar quality of the
Sermon, its heavenly-mindedness, its unvarying appeal
to man's consciousness of a Father who cares for us,

6 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
is so deeply stamped on every phrase and so far
determines the treatment of every topic, that the
admiration stirred among men by the whole Discourse
must be largely and indeed mainly due to this very
characteristic. But it is perhaps not quite obvious
how very striking a fact this is.
Thoughtful men have taken notice of the lives lived
in the Christianised countries, say, of Western Europe,
have pondered on the motives which are most vigor
ously operative, as well as the aspirations which are
most frequently avowed, and the effect on their minds is
to make them ask if there is any difference whatever be
tween modern Christianity and a civilised heathenism :
so much of the life of even the religious world — to
say nothing of the pleasure-seekers or the avaricious
— is almost entirely pagan. And even if it be thought
that such a verdict requires qualification, yet it is
impossible to deny that an immense proportion of
people give up nearly all their time and energy, and,
as far as we can see, their thoughts also to matters
mundane — a proportion large enough, one would
have thought, to govern quite decisively the drift of
public opinion on questions connected with the claims
of this world as compared with those of the next.
How then comes it about that Christ's great Sermon,
which for its understanding requires a fairly strong
grasp of unworldly principles, and anyhow a deep
interest in those principles for its popularity, is held
in reverence which seems to increase as time goes
on ? It would be very difficult to find a parallel to
this phenomenon in any other department of human
life. Supposing a political treatise written wholly
from a Radical point of view were addressed to a
section of society brought up in strait old-fashioned
Toryism, whose aims and conduct were admittedly
of a Tory type, swayed always by Tory ideas and

INTRODUCTION 7
Tory interests, what would be the reception accorded
to the Radical treatise ? If it were feebly written it
would be received with silent contempt. If, on the
other hand, it were written with wonderful power and
cogency, it would perhaps make some converts, but
by the majority of the people to whom it was addressed
it would be received with a storm of furious hostility
and wrathful invective : the very last and most impos
sible result would be that an unstinted and unanimous
admiration should be accorded to its teaching ; that
its phrases should be learnt by heart and taught as a
matter of course to children ; but yet that nine-tenths
of these same men and women should placidly go on
living Tory lives, avowing Tory hopes, and striving
pertinaciously for Tory interests, living, in short, on
principles manifestly and glaringly opposed to those
in which the treatise is steeped from the first sentence
to the last. But something like this, is the treatment
accorded to the unique and glorious treatise called
the Sermon on the Mount.
Thus we have to notice that Christ's appeal to man
kind has called forth a double answer. On the one
hand, in their conduct men generally ignore the pre
cepts ; on the other hand, they admire the Discourse as
a whole. Now of these two answers one is far more
difficult to explain than the other. It is easy to find
reasons why we should ignore the teaching of such
words as "Blessed are the poor," or "Take no thought
for the morrow," because we are born with very strong
natural tendencies to live a life opposite to that indi
cated by these words. But the difficulty is to explain
why, with these tendencies, we admire. Why is our
behaviour so different from that which we should call
sensible in the matter of a political pamphlet ?
One tempting explanation would be that the practical
application of political principles is that which pro-

8 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
vokes controversy, and that in comparison with it
whatever moral considerations are involved are of
insignificant interest; therefore our Lord's Sermon
being wholly moral and spiritual is of a character to
be judged calmly, and to be admired according to its
merits and apart from disputable details of conduct
and practice. But the worst of this theory is that it is
flatly contradicted by experience. It is almost a truism
to say that the storm of controversy provoked by the
Eastern Question in 1877, and by the Home Rule
agitation in 1885, was due in each case to the moral
principles involved ; and further, that any practical
proposals from which moral principles are carefully
banished are unexciting, unless they savour of spolia
tion ; but if they do they at once involve a moral
principle. Similarly, what is called the odium theo-
logicum is certainly not due to a forecast of practical
changes or impediments to change, but to something
provocative of controversy which seems to be inherent
in the subject. And yet this is the very subject with
which the great Sermon is concerned.
The truth then seems to be that if the contents of
the Sermon are divided into practical injunctions,
and moral or spiritual precepts, the admiration
accorded to it as a whole can hardly be due to the
first, since by a large majority of Christians the com
mands are ignored. And as to the second, the pre
cepts, though dealing with subjects which in other
connexions raise a great tumult of dispute, here seem
only to rouse a deep and widespread admiration.
This characteristic of the Discourse is not only ex
ceedingly interesting but profoundly important, almost
overwhelming in its significance. We may assume
that if there is something in the general tone of the
Discourse which distinguishes it from all other writ
ings, that distinctive quality must at least be one

INTRODUCTION 9
of the principal reasons why we cannot help rever
encing it, turning to it again and again, learning its
words, and habitually speaking of it as if it were entirely
beyond criticism. And it is fairly obvious that this
distinctive quality is the thoroughness with which it
appeals to man's instinctive yearning belief in a God
'who cares how we do fare in this life of ours. ^Unless
there were some such belief deep in man's heart, no
such estimate of Christ's Sermon would ever have
been formed, as in fact has been formed.
Now it is necessary to observe that the fact has to
be stated in some such words as those here used. We
are led to recognise an instinctive belief inwa God
who cares how we fare '^roecause while the whole
Discourse is penetrated with a feeling for the heavenly
life and its supremacy, for God's authority and the
majesty of His claims, a very large portion of the
teaching, and perhaps the most popular portion, is the
enforcing of the doctrine that God does really care
for us ; that He may be relied on to help, and that a
grievous impoverishment of human life is due to the
feebleness with which this idea is seized.^
But what a stupendous fact this is ! Can anything
exceed the greatness and the wonder of it, especially
when we consider that against this instinctive belief a
large number of influences are constantly operating ?
Two exceedingly powerful and antagonistic forces are
in modern life unusually active : the widespread re
cognition of the power of evil, and the inference hastily
drawn from natural science that material causes are a
sufficient explanation of the universe, including man's
spiritual nature. As to the first, it is well to remember
that the simple fact of the increase in means of com
munication forces on us with greater insistence than
ever before the extent of the havoc wrought by sin in
the world. A vast number of facts are daily brought

10 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
to our cognisance which tell of misuse and wreckage
of life, and a large proportion of educated men and
women are prone to study manifold forms of corrup
tion, forgetting meantime the beautiful symptoms of
spiritual vigour which are to be discerned by those
who keep their minds awake. And such a one-sided
view of humanity is encouraged by all that is diseased
in ephemeral literature, and by idle irresponsible talk,
till it becomes quite easy to imagine that evil is
supreme in the world, and difficult to be sure that life
is in any way ordered by a benevolent God.^j? But
there are evidences to show how amazingly deep and
enduring the contrary conviction is. The spontaneous
homage rendered to the Sermon on the Mount, often
by those who profess no feeling for a Personal God,
and who apparently are proof against even the win
ning appeal of the Cross of Christ, is a homage trium
phantly extorted from mankind by words which thrill
with the recognition of a Father, who cares for and
guides His children.
Concerning the second influence, the inference
drawn from science as to the sufficiency of material
causes, it may well be that students who are in any
sense keeping abreast of modern speculation and
intelligently watch the so-called conflict between re
ligion and science, are aware that a crude materialism
is becoming more and more widely discredited. But
still we cannot forget that thirty years ago it was
apparently carrying all before it, and that among
minds susceptible to prevailing currents of feeling
many thousands have been driven to deny the
possibility of a divine guidance of human life, so
perfect and automatic seemed the working of the
great machine of Nature. Is it not then remarkable
that many, even among those who are so affected,
willingly testify to their ungrudging reverence for

INTRODUCTION n
Christ's teaching, especially for that portion of it
which tells most distinctly of God's fatherly care
for His creatures ? There must be something well-
nigh imperishable in the strength of man's conviction
which responds so cordially to this particular appeal.
And the choice that educated people have thus made
is in reality the choice between the belief in a God
who loves men and makes provision for them, and a
vague acknowledgment of a First Cause, conceived of,
no matter how unphilosophically, as a Spirit Power
which was able to set going the Universe and all its
marvels, and then to remain aloof as a mere spectator
of its subsequent history. Many attempts have been
made to blur the distinction between these two beliefs,
as if " for practical purposes " the result of them
would be much the same. But while asserting his
conviction of the sufficiency of such a "scientific"
belief, man betrays his unalterable loyalty to the con
trary creed. Of a First Cause which has fashioned
the material universe and is not concerned with
human needs, the Sermon on the Mount has ab
solutely nothing to say. It is steeped from beginning
to end in a sense of God's fatherly love for, and
active intervention on behalf of, His creatures. If
this belief by some wonderful process could be
withdrawn from the Sermon, is it conceivable that
educated people scientifically trained would have
been able to admire it as they now undoubtedly
do ? What would be the character of the Discourse ?
Let any one attentively ponder on the answer to this
question, and it will become apparent to him that our
admiration of Christ's teaching is, literally, not in
spite of, but because of its deep and simple recogni
tion of an acting benevolent God. v For if the theism
of the Sermon were of the "scientific" kind, or if it
were withdrawn from it altogether, the remains would

12 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
be, instead of the glorious teaching which far and wide
has taken captive men's hearts and minds, a barren
and unrecognisable husk. Thus thousands of people
have stoutly asserted their belief in one kind of God,
being impelled to it by crude inferences drawn from
the study of nature ; but their feeling for our Lord's
teaching has belied their words.1
But though the quality here pointed out will be
freely granted by some readers, it seems advisable to
draw attention to it in its negative aspect. Positively
it may be designated as Godwardness ; negatively it
is unworldliness. But what is there in that quality
which should commend it to man's admiration ?
What is unworldliness ? It is to have aims, motives,
and ideas which are independent of and often anta
gonistic to those most urgently suggested by ordinary
human life, and are drawn from another sphere. But
this " ordinary human life " is what we all live. We
are all more or less under the influence of the
numberless floating opinions, ideas, and aspirations
which sway the minds of mankind, and which we
call conventional. In this Sermon Christ calls upon
us to break quite loose from this influence, to distrust,
nay, despise the standards set up by society at large,
and especially if they are recognised by an over
whelming majority of our fellow-men. But this is a
most extraordinary claim to make upon a mixed
multitude of mankind. What are these standards,
these aims, opinions, and estimates ? They are guides
to conduct which men through long centuries of social
1 It may be objected that it is arbitrary to select the Sermon as enforcing
our admiration because of its quality of Godwardness, seeing that the
Bible from beginning to end is full of it. This last statement I would not
dispute. But though it may tend to modify our estimate of the unique
greatness of the Sermon, it rather strengthens my argument than not. It
reminds us that man yields the same admiration to other writings ap
parently for the same reason.

INTRODUCTION 13
life have carefully, even painfully, created ; and it is
surely remarkable that we cannot help admiring a
Discourse which with unfailing emphasis bids us
contradict our own standards, flout our own esti
mates, trample on our own ideals. We may think we
understand why the positive teaching of the Sermon
commends itself to us, but this pervading tone of
unworldliness almost calls upon us to become scorners
of our own selves. Men have agreed upon certain
maxims of life, certain notions of how to live. If
they were not practically agreed upon them, these
notions would not be what we call conventional.
Who then is this who bids us turn our backs on
all this outcome of human thought and human de
velopment ? and what is that in us that makes us
reverence and adore Him for so teaching ?
Refraining at present from following this thought
further, we can better appreciate the paradoxical
character of the facts by tracing the main thread
of connexion which runs through the Sermon. Of
course, this is an extremely difficult task, and it
cannot be hoped that any result arrived at could
secure the cordial assent of all readers. Neverthe
less, it is certain that any honest attempt in this
direction meets with a reward.
The Discourse then opens with the Beatitudes,
about which it has often been remarked that in
them the Speaker goes clean contrary to maxims and
ideas of life and happiness which prevail and always
have prevailed among mankind. This indeed requires
no proof here. The next paragraph, ver. 13-16,
may be roughly paraphrased: "Such being the kind,
of character required for the Kingdom, it is for you,
My hearers, to realise that mankind will be benefited
or not according as you show it. But if its principles
are so contrary to those ordinarily professed and

14 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
acted on, the question arises, What of the laws of
conduct which have hitherto been widely observed ?
What of our own Jewish Law ? " Christ then ex
plains His attitude (17-20), and goes on to give
illustrations, as to murder, adultery, perjury, revenge,
and love of our neighbours (20 to end of chap. v.).
About all these the important point to notice is,
that whereas human laws show a marked tendency
to stop short at providing for security of life and
property, that is, for certain conditions of a happy
existence in this world, Christ's extension of these
laws (cf. "fulfil," ver. 17) invariably lands us, so to
speak, in a region where this kind of happiness,
orderly safety, and stability of this present life is
entirely subordinated to the question of obedience
to principles which are spiritual and unworldly, and
which only in a secondary indirect way can be said
to make our present lives happier. Happiness indeed
such as we often connect with unselfishness is quite
unworldly in character ; that is to say, it is not to
be understood or imagined by a man whose whole
life is ordered with a view to temporal welfare. No
temporal motive can impel any one to begin the
practice of unselfishness, because all such motives
seem to urge in the opposite direction.
Thus in that part of the Discourse where Christ
extends the scope and meaning of the moral law, He
broadens it and raises it into a sphere where, properly
speaking, worldly considerations have no force or
vitality. This remark applies to the whole of chap. v.
It is even more patently true of the next great division
of the Sermon, chap, vi., which may be divided into
two portions : down to ver. 19 Christ teaches that the
approval of men is not to be the motive nor is it to
determine the manner of our behaviour when we try
to do what is right. But it is surely the case that

INTRODUCTION 15
unless Godwardness were the secret of true well-being
and the true " end to which our currents tend," to
ignore man's approval, as Christ enjoins, would be
sheer folly. What conceivable motive could there
be for doing so ? The praise of men is perhaps the
pleasantest prize to be gained on earth, and no matter
how much it is decried by moralists, ignored by
philosophers, railed against by satirists, flouted by
cynics, it remains the most successful of all channels
of appeal which the world makes to the higher order
of natures, the only natures which in this connexion it
is worth considering.
Thus a very brief summary of the Sermon so far
would be as follows : " The character of the members
of the new kingdom is to be totally independent of
the standards and aims of this world. You, My
hearers, are to exhibit the character, and as character
depends on the moral law followed, you will bear in
mind that the moral law is not in future to be limited
by considerations of the temporal welfare of society,
as it has generally been in the past ; because such an
ideal is too external and fails to penetrate deep enough
into human life, as it is not purely Godward in its aim.
So much for the wrong view of the moral law. Now
in the practice of Godwardness you have to overcome
two strong counter-influences. First, when the world
sees that your actions are dictated by pure and lofty
motives, it may be the world will praise you, and you
will find its praise sweet ; but you must not make it
your object. Secondly, you maybe unable to concern
yourselves with such aims as the securing of men's
approval, owing to the pressure of poverty or the
prospect of it. This will incline you to be anxious
about the necessaries of your physical life, but as this
is a temporal matter it must not be allowed to be a
dominant influence of your conduct and feelings ; it

16 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
is a symptom of a feeble trust in a Heavenly Father, and
could only be justified if this world were our all in all."
We here observe that in insisting on the absolute
necessity of unworldliness Christ selects for warning
three kinds of appeal which the world makes to
characters of different temperament and to people in
different circumstances ; and further, He selects only
the highest sorts of appeals, neglecting altogether such
interruptions to the higher life as are summed up
under the word sensuality, probably because they
were and for a long time had been generally con
demned by men's consciences. So He treats, in a
way most characteristic of His teaching, only those
claims of the world upon our allegiance which were
not then condemned by the public conscience at all,
and have not been since, though an approximation to
the right point of view has been attained with more
or less success by small sections of society at different
times. The three kinds of appeal are : (i) to man's
reverence for the moral law, which, however, he had
grievously circumscribed owing to worldly considera
tions. This appeal would be to earnest high-minded
people anxious to do right ; (2) to the ambitious, who,
failing to find satisfaction in God's approval, are
naturally inclined to substitute man's ; (3) to the vast
horde of commonplace, struggling individuals whose
minds are too stunted to be either earnestly set on
well-doing, or on ambition, being perpetually hampered
by the prospect of increasing difficulty in securing
what are thought to be necessaries. Thus the three
kinds of appeal made by the world to His followers
Christ treats of in a descending scale.1
1 It would be more natural, one would think, if the scale had ascended,
the sense being "you are not to listen to the world's promptings, of course
riot to your lower nature, but I forbid obedience even to those addressed
to the higher part of man's being." This treatment would have been lucid

INTRODUCTION 17
So far, then, there seems to be good ground for
saying that, if to the Sermon on the Mount a special
and unique admiration is accorded, this must be
principally because it is throughout unworldly in its
tone, and is steeped in the conviction that we are
the children- of a God who cares for us and guides
our lives.
When we come to chap. vii. we are met by a still
and justified by precedent. But it may be suggested that the reverse order
is due to the strong connexion between the topic of the moral law and the
earlier half of chap, v., as shown above. If the subject of anxiety had
come first of the three, the arrangement would have been open to objection
on the score of abruptness.
It is interesting to note that at first sight, so far from there being an
obvious descent in passing from chap. v. to vi., there seems to be a great
ascent ; in the nature of the subjects handled, and therefore in the kind of
characters that are addressed. It would, however, be a mistake to view
the passages in this light. True it is that in one sense we pass from the
depths to the heights. In chap. v. we are reminded of the humiliating
facts of man's nature ; his wrestlings with tendencies to foul and squalid
crime. But in chap. vi. we are suddenly wafted up to a. region in which
we see man engaged in his sublimest activities — Prayer, Almsgiving and
Fasting, communion with God, acts of mercy to his fellows, the expression
of sorrow for sin. And yet it is in reality a descent. There is something
noble and genuine in man's struggle against the rebellious flesh and hot
tempers of the mind and sins of the tongue. Such conflicts are those in
which strong childlike characters are often engaged. They belong to the
early simple days of human life, before the beauty of childhood's time ha?
quite passed away. But when He comes to deal with the world's appeal
to the ambitious and the morally blind, Christ changes the scene. Man
is no longer fighting to save himself from slavery to passion, in a dark and
lonely arena wholly devoid of spectatorial pomp and show, but is set
on high, the centre of social admiration, the observed of all observers, the
model of man's grandest and loftiest activities ; and yet, when we look
closely, the most terrible type of ruin, because the fact that his aim is
selfish while it professes to be Godward blinds him to his own inconsist
ency, the dishonesty of his motives and the stupidity of his double-
mindedness. It appears from a comparison of the two paragraphs that the
very obscurity and unheroic character of the struggle against the flesh, the
temper, and the tongue give a certain immunity from the worst collapse —
that to which the ambitious character is liable. There can hardly be any
self-exaltation in the one, but it is nearly inseparable from the other. The
contrast is profoundly instructive. B

18 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
greater difficulty than before in tracing a connexion.
Nothing but a firm belief that up to the end of chap.
vi. the line of thought is fairly certain will give any
hope of solving the problem of chap. vii. At first
sight its principal characteristic is fragmentariness, and
it is quite possible that there has been compression in
the report, and not only that, but that there were
pauses and interruptions in the original delivery of
the words.
Our Lord has dealt with the grave subject of anxiety
about physical necessities, and in so doing was led to
mention the fact of evil.1 He proceeds now to make
still clearer the position of His followers as men
conscious of sonship to God, but in contact with the
world.XAlready we have learnt that the world can
spoil our filial service by offering us the guidance of
a moral law tainted with selfishness, or by dazzling
us with earthly honours ; or again, it can choke and
enfeeble our aspirations by commonplace anxietie^""
But there remains the dread fact of evil. His first
injunction as to this is negative^jLWhatever may be
man's right attitude towards evil,* there is one thing
he is not to do — he is not to judge it, to criticise the
scheme of things which admits it, or to busy himself
with blundering attempts to improve his neighbour's
character ; because in presence of life's most be
wildering complexities, and well-nigh deafened by its
tragic discords, man's chief concern should be to lay
hold on the fact of his sonship to Almighty God and
tranquilly live the life of a son, letting it tell on the
problems with which he is confronted; and the life
of a son means the life of a recipient. When once
1 Previous mention of it, v. 1 1, 37 (this last is an important parallel to
vi. 34), vi. 13 ; and there are indirect allusions throughout under other
terms (v. 12, 22 ; vi. 23, &c), or by mention of virtues which are apparently
dependent on the existence of evil (v. 4, 6, seq., 13 ; vi. 3, 14).

INTRODUCTION

19

this is taken to heart man is powerfully impelled to
give ; since his true relation to God is simply that of
one who so receives that he cannot help giving.1 The
former of these is without limitation — man has only
to ask ; but the latter is limited in one respect. What
he receives as a member of Christ's society is ineffably
precious ; he longs to pass on the gift, but he must
beware of the unfitness of many to receive it. And
yet the scope of the duty of giving is immensely wide ;
no less so than the range of his demands on his
fellow-creatures' bounty and love (v. 12).2
Not for the first time in the course of the great
Sermon did Christ's words inspire solemn and anxious
thoughts in His hearers. Life has now been shown
to them as something quickened by a divine principle,
but yet alarming in the severity of the demands that
it makes. Our Lord recognises this feeling, and con
firms it by the vivid parable of the Narrow Way.
And if the principle which has been explained is as
easy to lose as is a narrow track through a wilder
ness, man must beware of false guides who offer their
services. This is the last of the overtures made by
the world to the follower of the Saviour. Fidelity
and trust may have enabled him to withstand the
deceitfulness of an inadequate code of precepts, or
the hollowness of the world's approval, or the cark-
ing care of poor equipment ; or the dazed bewilder
ment with which he comes to measure the power of
evil. And yet he may fall a victim to the world's
offer of guidance ; such guidance is frequently false,
but it can be tested, if we mark its fruits and are not
1 It would not be difficult to show how receiving and giving are in
fact much the same as that which we sometimes speak of as faith and
works. 2 The connexion of thought might be much simplified in vv. 7-12 if it
were assumed that the subjects of giving and receiving have been dealt
with in the Bible text slightly out of order.

20 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
gulled by an easy and superficial pietism, which in
deed is compatible with a total alienation of heart
from the Redeemer of mankind. (To end of vii. 23.)
" Seeing then how tremendous is the issue of life, I
will add," says the Teacher, "one parable to bring
out the essential difference between the genuine-
disciple and the attractive counterfeit ; issuing in a
ruin due to something wrong in the character of the
child of God who proves himself a careless builder." 1
But an objection might be lodged against the whole
line of argument which has here been followed. It
might be urged that as the outcome of obedience to
Christ's precepts would be an increase of happiness
in this life, man's tribute of admiration to the dis
course only testifies to his instinctive perception of
what is expedient, and that there is nothing really
unworldly in this feeling after all. It will be re
membered also that much is said by so great an
authority as Bishop Butler to show that the highest
morality conduces to happiness ; and, moreover, that
1 On a review of the connexions of thought which have here been
traced, it will perhaps be admitted that they are made out without undue
licence of conjecture, except in regard to ver. 6-12. At this point the
links in the chain fail us. Either the report of the words is defective,
or there has been an unsuccessful fusion of two or more discourses ; or
Christ delivered His injunctions linked together by a train of thought in
His own mind, but not connected by a logical statement, considering that
the particular purpose in view (whatever it was) would be thus adequately
served. The principle on which these notes are written is that we are not yet
in a position to decide between these three alternatives, even if we some
day shall be ; but that it would be a great mistake to infer that all
attempts to supply the missing connexion are in vain. We shall never
know if such and such a connecting thought was really in Christ's mind
when He spoke. But even if not, it may have been in the mind of the
compiler, and it would be going too far to say that therefore it has no
claim upon our attention. Indeed, even if no such connexion was
present even to the compiler's mind, it still remains an instructive and
useful task to set out these wonderful utterances in a logical sequence.

INTRODUCTION 21
man is perfectly justified in so far being worldly in
his aims that, as our ideas of happiness and misery
are the nearest and most important to us, " they will,
nay, if you please, they ought, to prevail over those of
order and beauty and harmony and proportion." A
sensible view of the Sermon would in short be, that
as there is much sin arid misery in the world brought
about by obedience to shallow and misleading
notions, a remedy for this condition of things can only
be stated in terms which contradict those notions ;
and man is quite discerning enough to be aware that
his true welfare in this life will deperid on obedience
to such statements.
It is probable that many of those who testify riiOst
cordially to their reverence for Christ's teaching
would, if pressed, justify it in some such terms as
the above. Now, formidable though the objection
sounds, it expresses a leading principle of the Sermon
quite correctly. But it will be found that, so far from
upsetting, it corroborates our argument, or rather it
restates the fact on which the argument is mainly
based ; and the reason why the same fact is employed
in support of apparently opposite opinions is that
the principal Word, happiness, is used in very different
senses. This will become plain if we imagine what very
frequently takes place, a group of men gathered to
gether for the promotion of some undertaking designed
for the happiness of human beings. What is the sub
ject of their deliberation ? Briefly, it is the improve
ment of the supply of earthly or temporal goods to
their fellow-creatures; including necessaries of the
physical life, provision for the intellectual life, and,
nearly always, a good report among men. But these
are exactly the things which Christ tells us are to be
considered of no account, • or, if they are felt to be

22 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
literally necessaries, are to be expected from God's
bounty, not secured by man's anxious forethought ;
and at once we pass from a perfectly simple, common-
sense ideal to one that is exceedingly difficult to
explain or even to discuss. Christ may be under
stood as pointing us forward to a happiness of
which we can certainly conceive, and after which
we instinctively crave. But it is a happiness which
only begins when the other kind — the intelligible
kind for which our earthly arrangements are made
— is sacrificed and left out of account. Man evi
dently and undeniably strives for what we call
rosperity : it is his nature to do so ; he does not
ciisguise his aims, but professes them far and wide,
and nobody blames him. But it cannot be said that
the joy and peace foreshadowed by our Lord in such
texts as Matt. v. 12 have anything in common with
the ideal set before us in the market-place, pictured
in our imaginations, preached everywhere, discussed
everywhere, postulated in every section of society.
And it is because the objection we have stated ignores
this fundamental distinction that it seems to tell
against the argument based on man's irrepressible
yearning after the spiritual, the inexplicable happi
ness, while he works incessantly for something which
is earthly and within the range of common minds.
We are still left, therefore, with the inference that
the Sermon on the Mount has secured its extra
ordinary hold on human minds in spite of — or is it
because of ? — the fact that it wholly discards all
ordinary ideals of happiness.
Nevertheless, there are many readers of the New
Testament, men and women of strong philanthropic
feelings, who would be much dissatisfied with this
statement. To them the precepts of the Sermon are
the fundamental principles of social reform. It is a

INTRODUCTION 23
commonplace saying among them that the awful
disorders from which society suffers, such as over
crowding in towns, bad housing, uncertain employ
ment, and other influences which not only destroy
temporal happiness but stunt and ruin human life,
would rapidly disappear if only people would set
themselves to practise the ethics of the Sermon on
the Mount., And their account of the admiration and
reverence generally felt for the Discourse would be
simply this : we are groaning and sinking under the
weight of hideous evils brought about by human sin
and selfishness, and all the time we plainly recog
nise that in Christ's teaching lies mankind's great
hope, proclaiming as it does with unexampled force
and beauty the principles of unselfishness, in which
alone a cure for human ills is to be found.
This view, closely akin to that already discussed,
gives an extremely simple explanation of the question
before us. The complicated horrors of civilisation
are due to selfishness — man suffers under them ; his
social fabric is threatened by them. Naturally, then,
he turns with respect and veneration to the unique
charter of unselfishness, perceiving in it the hope of
a social equilibrium here on earth, as well as of bliss
hereafter. Surely there is no mystery or difficulty in
the matter.
Perhaps there would be none if the facts cor
responded to this statement. But in reality the
contention that the Sermon gives the principles for
social reform and amelioration of man's lot on earth
is based on an imaginary view of its contents. To
prevent misapprehension I would say at once that
there is warrant enough and to spare in our Lord's
example, and in those of His precepts which
emphasise the duty of love to our neighbour, to
make men eager in the brightening of their

24 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
brethren's lives. There can be no doubt that the
" Enthusiasm of Humanity " is an outcome of
Christianity, but it is not therefore true to say that
the object of the Sermon was to preach it. It may
be admitted that such a text as " Give to him that
asketh thee " is capable of a certain not very literal
explanation, which, if accepted, would militate against
many forms of social injustice and oppression. But
nobody could read the passage with any attention
without seeing that the drift of its teaching is in quite
a different direction. Again, the well-known " What
soever ye would that men should do unto you," &c,
may be quoted ; and it may be granted that in its
literal simple meaning it cuts at the root of social
fashions which produce misery. But it is a singularly
isolated verse : nothing is given to show whether the
application is to be in the relations of individuals, or
of classes of society, or of nations. And even if it be
given its full weight, and if it be assumed that it was
intended to have that specially social application
which is desiderated, yet it must in all fairness be
admitted that this one verse cannot be decisive for the
meaning and purpose of the whole Sermon, especially
when we find that all the great connected passages
bear with surpassing force, not on the duty of making
this world a comfortable place, but on the paramount
necessity of our being furnished with principles drawn
from elsewhere.
But there is a broad characteristic of the Sermon
which is generally overlooked by those who speak of
it as teaching the principles of social reform. It is not
enough to say that its tone is unworldly, and that it
points throughout to a God who cares for us as the
Source of our strength and our Guide through the
perplexities of life. So far from the precepts being
framed to show how society is to be reformed,

INTRODUCTION 25
there are two assumptions made throughout : first,
that a Heavenly Father is sufficient for our needs ;
secondly, and quite as consistently, that the Christian
life is one long antagonism to the influence of the
world or of society, and, moreover, that this in
fluence is an abiding fact, no hint being given that
we are to expect it to cease. # In other words,
supposing for a moment these disorders and deep-
seated evils in society were completely healed, the
whole of the first two chapters and part of the third
would at once lose all their meaning. Not only do
they not speak of any successful social reform being
brought about at any time, but all their teaching is
for a society living among unreformed surroundings.
Apparently their whole intention and purpose are
concerned with a state of things in which sin and
unhappiness abide and are strong. Without the con
flict which this fact of sin involves, what would be the
value of the Beatitudes ? Or what the purpose of the
sublime warnings against the danger of craving men's
praise, if it were not true that that praise is spoilt by
error and sinfulness ? Or what the sense of the pro
hibition against anxiety, if there were nothing to be
anxious about, if all social relations were in a healthy
equilibrium ?
In short, it is profoundly unsatisfactory to look for
guidance in the task of diminishing social evils, in a
discourse which assumes almost throughout that such
evils exist and are rampant ; and it may well be that
we should never have imagined the Sermon to have
been directed to their abolition had we not been
steeped in certain preconceptions as to its contents.
We are suffering under a growing sense of the dis
tresses, the injustices, cruelties, and complications of
our social life ; we have a profound admiration for
the Sermon on the Mount, and so we conclude that

26 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
we only have to apply the doctrine of the Sermon to
the evils around us and they will disappear. There
is no warrant for believing anything of the kind J^Fhe
purpose of the Sermon is not to teach men how to
abolish evil ; but how to behave in its presence ; how
to interpret its allurements, to see straight in the
midst of its complexities. There is a confidence on
which our minds are to be stayed as on an anchor ;
not because the tempests are dying down, but because
they are still raging. To this confidence Christ urges
us^There is a hope which can tranquillise and uplift
us, and to this we are to look when we are ready to
be cast down ; not because by so doing we shall
avoid failure and disappointment, but because we
shall surely encounter them. To this hope Christ
constrains us. If the influences against which we
are striving are in this life and for all men going to
lose their power of hindering, of baffling, and of
depressing, then the most characteristic teaching of
the Saviour of men is of value only for a limited
time ; it deals with a period of transition, and hastens
on a state of things when it will have no meaning.
But if what we call evil is a fact which will endure
as far as the human mind can forecast the future of
this world, then His precepts are for all time, and will
ever be the mainspring of the principles by which
our lives are to be ordered and our hope sustained.1
1 The above remarks are based on the actual contents of the Sermon ;
yet it will be felt that they can hardly be the last word on the difficult
subject of the obligations of Christian citizenship. If it were true that
Christianity has nothing to do with rectifying injustices, oppressions,
and disorders in our social system, we should find ourselves in much
bewilderment about it. Moreover, it is not to be expected that men
should acquiesce in the view that Christ's teaching assumes or even
tolerates the continuous existence of social disorders.
The subject is full of interest and importance for an age marked by
much philanthropic eagerness, and by many urgent demands on the
Church of Christ to be up and doing, to give of her best talent and

INTRODUCTION 27
In a sense, then, the teaching of the Redeemer of
the world is surprisingly limited. He has revealed
to us the unspeakable mercy of God, and bids us look
forward to a life of union with Him beyond the grave,
motive power to the task of bettering the social environment. Much
controversy is stirred by the growth and activity of such a body as the
Christian Social Union, and the question is often asked, Ought Christian
priests to be giving time and energy to questions of this nature ? and how
far are they to devote themselves to purely spiritual work ? The questions
can only be treated in brief outline.
It would not be difficult to make out a formidable case against the
claims of citizenship on the time and energies of a Christian. First, there
is a remarkable absence of reference to the subject in our Lord's teaching
generally. Secondly, there are significant texts which strike a different
note, some of which definitely affirm, more distinctly than the Sermon
implies, that discord and divisions are not to be looked on as transitory
phenomena in the history of mankind. Thirdly, experience seems to
show that, in so far as Christianity has increased the temporal happiness
of mankind, it has done so by not directly aiming at it ; that is to say,
instead of directly attacking the outward conditions which seem to make
for disorder and suffering, it has laid down certain principles : e.g. (i)
enforcing the law of love of our neighbours ; and (2) showing the mean
ing of suffering. And the effectiveness of the work of Christianity in
increasing happiness has been proportioned to the thoroughness with
which it has devoted itself to some higher principle than to any which
could be called worldly. Fourthly, temporal happiness is the aim of
many who could be described quite truthfully as mere hedonists, i.e.
men whose readiness to forward schemes for the redress of others' wrongs
is really due to a selfish desire for a general contentment because of the
security which depends on it. It can hardly be satisfactory to suppose
that the aim of the religion founded by the crucified Son of Man is the
same as that of an avowed pleasure-seeker who never for one moment
lifts his thoughts above this present life, and who openly derides the
idea that God has made a special revelation to man, or indeed, that
we can conceive at all of a Personal God who provides in any way for
human needs. Fifthly, the theory that Christians ought to aim always
at increasing temporal happiness is tantamount to saying that faithful
obedience to Christ's precepts will be rewarded by an increase of social
prosperity. But this is the familiar doctrine of much of the Old Testament
(enforced specially in the Book of Deuteronomy), and it has often been
pointed out that in the New Testament a different appeal altogether is
made to those who desire to do God's will, viz., an appeal based on
the satisfying completeness of the motive of simple service to Him.
On the other hand, we have to consider that our Lord taught by

28 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
when, as we say, " time shall be no more." Is it not
then a most striking fact that in His encouragements
and exhortations to man on earth, in those utterances
of imperishable beauty and depth, He has hardly
dwelt at all on the glory of the eternal prospect, but
confined Himself to principles which refer to a state
example as well as by precept, and that His example is that of One who
went about doing good and bringing solace to the broken-hearted and
health to the sick ; in short, increasing the sum of human happiness.
This simple consideration will outweigh, in the opinion of many loyal
Christians, any number of theoretical inferences from the teaching of the
Gospels. Again, if it is conceded that the most effective treatment of
human unhappiness is to deal with it indirectly, this is also a concession
to the principle contended for ; in other words, the dispute would be not
whether suffering and disorder should be diminished, but only as to the
best method of diminishing them. Again, in the present day it is im
possible to resist the doctrine often enforced in an indirect unformulated
fashion, that the influence of religion is intended to embrace this present
life ; not only to teach men that life is a probation, but now and here in
the midst of intricate and tailzied problems to uplift, to cleanse, to cheer
and to restore ; and -.that citizenship is really a religious idea. The con
ception of England's imperial vocation is not a piece of English hypocrisy.
At the bottom of this feeling there is the conviction that citizenship teaches
self-denial, being a true form of patriotism ; and though it may not be a
profession of godliness, it is undoubtedly a seeking after the highest Good.
Lastly, no one objects to intercessions being offered for temporal pros
perity ; why, then, should there be any hesitation in working for it ? What
prompts our prayers is a healthy spontaneous desire for others' happiness,
and it need not have the slightest taint of selfishness in it. The same
desire may surely prompt to action.
Thus the difficulty of reconciling opposing or at least different claims
has persuaded many Christians, earnestly desirous of walking worthily of
the vocation wherewith they are called, to give themselves up to works of
charity and beneficence in an unreflecting fashion, as if they despaired of
arriving at any true principle of guidance. This method can hardly be
the best possible ; it is, anyhow, likely to be spoilt by the depressing
influence of failure ; and if not, the permanence and success of it must
depend on some deeper principle which may be unconsciously followed.
The large amount of failure which besets charitable effort is almost pro
verbial, and it is worth while, if only to secure some safeguard against
hopelessness, to seek a reconciliation of the claims of this life and the next.
We naturally turn then to our Lord's example, and the main questions
which call for an answer are something of this kind: (l) What was the

INTRODUCTION 29
of temporal warfare ? Man's tendency is strangely
different. At one time we try to sustain our flagging
spirits with brightly drawn pictures of the life of the
blessed in heaven. This was the kind of encourage
ment commonly adopted among religious people a
generation or two ago. Nowadays, however, we feed
aim of Christ's work on earth for the last three years of His life ? (2)
What relation to that aim did the works of healing bear? (3) If this is
determined, how far may we assume that the same relation is to be
observed by the Church ? The answer to ( 1 ) will be affected by the view
we take of Christ's work after the Ascension. But suppose we look quite
simply at the Gospel narrative, we find a record of One who taught men
a new conception of their relation to God, viz., that of sonship, as being
a completely satisfying basis for conduct, though there were many influ
ences which militated against it. The record tells us how Jesus Himself
lived firmly holding to this idea against the most violent onslaughts of
malice and hostility. While engaged, then, in giving men this new and
living evidence of what an unworldly life on earth could be, He devoted
a great deal of time to works of healing, and there are many readers who
see in these works something more than deeds of compassion ; they appear
to be evidences of a plan of teaching, by appeal to the eye, certain deep truths
concerning man's moral and spiritual life and the healing power residing
in Christ's person. Again, as the time was very short, we should perhaps
emphasise the necessity which existed of awakening attention to His
claims and stirring men's sluggish minds to a requisite degree of interest.
Other students again have felt that our Lord desired to fulfil in His work
the prophecies of the Old Testament, and that His works of healing
helped to this end. These considerations, if only to a limited degree
admitted, would tend to furnish an answer to (3), to the effect that there
were special reasons which induced Christ to devote time and energy to
works of healing. Do they, then, apply to His followers? To answer
this question with a bare negative would betray a very meagre and
stunted view of the Christian society. To all who believe in the special
endowment of the Church with the Spirit of God, it should not be
difficult to apprehend that our aims are exactly the same as those here
ascribed to the Founder of the Church. Men need, and probably always
will need, to be taught the fact of spiritual life partly through evidences of
what we call physical life. And, especially if the Church were able to
show works of healing, the public conscience, as it is called, would be
roused to listen to her spiritual teaching. If, however, she labours under
a sense of inability thus to cope with works of healing, that is not a
sufficient reason why all medical work should be relegated to professional
doctors, especially that large and growing department of it which deals

30 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
ourselves with hopes drawn from the world as we
see it ; based, that is, on the prospect of ifar-reaching
reformation and improvement of life for all God's
creatures in the human and animal kingdom. And
we are so constituted that unless we fancy that we
discern signs of real permanent improvement in our
with the influence of mind over matter. It is a. pity, for instance, that
there is no Church office to be read by a priest to a sufferer who is just
going to undergo an operation. Probably in this direction lies the hope
that the Church of Christ may once more exhibit something of His power
to restore men's bodies ravaged by sin and marred by morbid fancies,
ignorance, and error.
But there will always be a difference in the tone of mind between a
mere philanthropist, as it is called, and ». true Christian, in that simple
compassion can never be the only nor the principal motive of the latter,
but love and reverence for human souls. It is quite possible for philan
thropic activity to be stirred by a selfish wish to make the world a
pleasanter place to live in ; and some people do useful work in this way
merely because they hate ugliness. This, of course, indicates a better
feeling than that of the wholly selfish worldling, who simply turns away
his eyes from life's tragedies and tries (sometimes with success) to get it
established as a sign of bad breeding if such things are mentioned in
society. All he knows about them is that they ruffle his peace, and he
feels a vague resentment towards them, and towards any one who tries to
enlist his sympathies with reform. But the real Christian's chief concern
in this world must ever be with the state of men's souls ; and when his
whole being is moved with indignation at disorder and wrong, it is because
men are being made to live under conditions which stunt their growth
and forbid their higher aspirations from coming into play ; and, in general,
make it harder for them to be lifted above animalism and despair. Yet
it is true that misery by itself, and apart from spiritual considerations, is
spoken of as constituting a claim on our sympathy and help. In the great
parable, Lazarus is spoken of as going to Abraham's bosom ; but none t .e
less the story is a. tremendous indictment against those who refuse to
concern themselves with the temporal welfare of their fellow-creatures
when their sufferings are brought plainly to their notice. It seems, in
short, that we may allow simple misery to appeal to our activities, but,
wherever possible, these should be dominated and guided by a fervent
desire to promote first and foremost the health of the soul. And the
common experience, that when this is wisely set forward there always
follows an amelioration of the temporal conditions, may be taken as God's
way of showing His approval of the works of compassion, even though
they may be undertaken principally by those in whom the more spiritual
claim seems for a time to waken no response.

INTRODUCTION 31
surroundings, either continuing or just going to begin,
our spirits fail and our efforts to brighten the lives of
our fellow-men sink into a lethargic acquiescence with
things as they are. But to many people there is just
enough evidence of improvement to furnish them
with an incentive to life-long effort. At any rate, men
fix their thoughts incessantly on the prospect of evil
being overcome either now and here or in some
blessed far-distant transformation of the conditions
of life. , Not so the Son of Man. He never invited
His hearers to consider results, and it is a singular
and noteworthy paradox that this Discourse, the most
inspiring exhortation ever delivered, should not con
tain one hint that Christian efforts will produce any
visible effect on the serried hosts of the armies of
Satan's kingdom. Elsewhere, it is true, He speaks
of beholding Satan as lightning fallen from heaven.1
But on the very same occasion, when telling His
followers of the greatness of the gift wherewith they
had been endowed, He utters the unexpected warning,
" Howbeit, in this rejoice not that the spirits are
subject unto you, but rejoice that your names are
written in heaven " : thus balancing against His
prophecy of victory, a warning that we are not to
make it a subject for rejoicing. The seventy mis
sionaries had spoken of their success as being due
to their Master's name — they had not taken undue
credit for it to themselves — but none the less they are
warned to turn their thoughts to another aspect of
the subject, even though the latter would seem to us,
at first sight, to be almost dangerously suggestive of
self-congratulation. Reverting to the Sermon we are thrown back on
the question, wherein does its unique stimulus to
effort lie ? Quite unlike all human encouragements,
1 Luke x. 18, R.V.

32 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
it steers entirely clear of any promise that Christ's
followers are to look for evidence of the effect their
lives may have on the world. And the answer
therefore to the question is once again the funda
mental thought of the Sermon, the Fatherhood of
God. A pure and spiritual motive is here given to
man. If we conceive of ourselves as members of a
Divine family, linked to our Father by the deepest
and most intimate union of love, it is impossible that
we should regard our brethren with any other feeling
but true affection, simply because they are joint in
heritors with us of the Divine love, and our love of
God constrains us to share His feeling for His other
children. Such a motive is easy to understand.
What is difficult is the absence of all reference to
any success whatever, even of the most spiritual kind.
And yet herein we may discern a purpose. Granted
that the motive of love to our Heavenly Father is all-
sufficient to brace our energies, would there have
been any gain if Christ had made His appeal to His
followers more attractive and more intelligible by
promising a missionary success ? Far from it. He
would have left them at the mercy of the human
tendency to be downcast by failure, which we should
then be justified in regarding as evidence of wrong
methods of work. The fashion of so regarding it, the
heedless and shallow judgments we pronounce on each
other's best endeavours, are indications of worldliness
of mind as well as serious impediments to the pro
gress of Christ's kingdom. They are like misleading
beacon-lights to a traveller seeking a road hard to
find, who has been furnished from the beginning
with a perfectly sufficient clue to the right path.
This clue is the fact of sonship to God. Only those
who take this fact deep into their minds are able to
face the tremendous prospect of missionary failure;

INTRODUCTION 33
and yet, while able to contemplate it, they are not in
any sense lulled into acquiescence, or embittered with
cynicism, or bereft of hope, but they are fortified with
a far-reaching assurance.
We are now able to measure in some way the
wonder of the Sermon on the Mount, and the obliga
tion which is laid upon us to acquaint ourselves with
its main doctrines. It has been noticed (by a writer
of deep insight) that our Lord separates Himself
from other founders of religions by His readiness to
forecast a large measure of failure in the attempts
His followers would make towards the attainment of
the Christian type of character. Similarly the origin
ality, the sense of power and serene superiority to
human ideals, which are denoted by the absence of
all reference to missionary success, constitute a pheno
menon of unique impressiveness. The teaching which
is able to rivet the attention of generations of mankind
and evoke the allegiance of all nations and kindreds
and people, is found to be supremely independent of
the ideals which even the highest natures among men
are constantly compelled to set before themselves if
they are to be cheered and upheld in the dread conflict
with the power of the present world. That is not the
same as merely staying that it is free from vulgar ideas
of flashy success and from all kinds of tawdry attrac
tiveness due to a conformity with prevailing hopes
and aspirations. That would be a noteworthy charac
teristic by itself ; but what we are considering is an
elevation of tone above the highest utterances of man,
prompting us to raise our thoughts to a region pure
from the faintest admixture of those selfish elements
which even men of loftiest aspiration are unable
wholly to dispense with when they gird themselves
to their best endeavour. Except by steeping them
selves in the Spirit which breathed these words, men
C

34 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
are dependent on the hope of success. But when
they find One who moves in a purer air and rests
in majestic tranquillity on a set of principles quite
heavenly in tone, they worship Him. Human en
couragement consists in pointing out symptoms of the
failing power of evil ; indications that the assaults on
Satan's fortresses are not in vain. We collect in
stances ; we proceed by argument ; and no amount
of depressing experience seems able to strip off from
our hearts the hope of some visible temporal achieve
ment. But the Saviour simply reminds us of an
invisible fact, our sonship to our Heavenly Father,
who cares for and guides our lives. That is the
fact which is completely sufficient to give all needful
encouragement, to control our waywardness, to clear
our vision for the true perspective, and to quicken
us with an infinite aspiration, fresh, buoyant, and
eternal. But herein lies a claim upon our best attention of
no ordinary kind. In exact proportion as the central
thought of the Sermon transcends even the highest
of human motives, it is difficult to comprehend.
Doubtless, there is a winning simplicity in the images
employed and an unapproachable force and direct
ness in the appeal, as well as a complete sanity of
judgment and depth of human sympathy. None the
less, however, when we try to think its thoughts, we
are taken up into an air difficult for ordinary men to
breathe, and yet we are called upon, as in mountain^
climbing, for efforts which require all the support we
can give them. t^The standards of judgment which
we habitually use, the motives, the postulates of daily
human life, are treated by the Speaker With a certain
tranquil union of sympathy and detachment far more
impressive than any fierce antagonism could have
been. The most powerful denunciations of life as

INTRODUCTION 35
we know it, however unanswerable they may be
leave us unmoved. We feel that their power is due
to imperfect understanding. And when, on the other
hand, the sympathy with human life expresses a
complete satisfaction with its ideals and a joyous
abandonment to its achievements, once more we find
ourselves disappointed. No great satirist is able to
nourish us, nor does the peculiar spirit of the Renas
cence fill the void in the soul. But the teaching of
Jesus on such a subject as anxiety about earthly
necessities reveals a nature full of perfect sympathy
with, yet of transcendent superiority to, its theme.
With a certain easy mastery over all the elements
of the question, He measures the comparative value
of each, and allots to each human instinct its legiti
mate range as determined by eternal truth. He has
far too complete an understanding of men simply
to judge and disapprove. But this very warmth of
sympathy makes all the more impressive the majestic
supremacy with which He substitutes the permanent
for the ephemeral, the heavenly for the mundane ; and
by contrast impresses on our souls the inadequacy of
the one and the glorious hopefulness of the other.
Thus when the Saviour, in tones of indescribable
vividness and power, warns us at the close of this
Discourse of the peril of neglecting its precepts, He is
not urging us to a certain set of outward actions, nor
to any definite kind of life, such as the ascetic or the
convivial, the monastic or the solitary ; but He con
strains us to make our utmost efforts to grasp the.-
meaning of the truth that we are children of God, and
all that that involves in respect of life's most pressing
problems. He indicates the bearing of the truth upon
certain questions of conduct, clearly with the intention
that we ourselves should make the effort to apply it
far and wide, whenever necessary, as the calls and

36 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
claims of life become more numerous, more manifest,
more complex. No one who has tried to answer this
appeal of his Master, in however humble a degree, will
be under any delusion as to its difficulty or as to the
unexpected richness of the reward./' We are called
upon to take into our souls a set of principles which
are not of this world ; which are contradicted by the
world's clamour every hour that we live, and yet
which receive their corroboration and attest their
value by being applied deeply and patiently to all that
is truest and most enduring in human life.|rFor then
it is found that they are welcomed and recognised
even by those who began by deriding them as some
thing strange and useless for man's needs ; and in
each recognition they gain in clearness, and inspire
afresh the hope that by being re-stated and unfolded
once more their power may tell over a yet wider area,
and new minds be brought within the limitless range
of their appeal.
With some such hope, all too daring and presump
tuous though it may seem, the following pages have
been written.

THE BEATITUDES
The opening of the Sermon on the Mount has become
part of the mental and spiritual heritage of the
Christian world, and to such an extent is this the
case that it is far from easy to face the question —
why does the Discourse open in this particular way ?
We have grown up from early childhood with the
sound of these divinely worded utterances in our ears:
we are unable to say how far they have helped to
form our conception of the meaning of human life,
but there is probably in each of us a dim conscious
ness that if these words had never been spoken our
lives would have missed a certain guidance and en
couragement for which, as it is, our deepest gratitude
is due to Almighty God. Hence to some there might
be an element almost of profanation in any inquiry
as to why the words were spoken as they were, and
a feeling that the Beatitudes are far too wonderful,
too inspiring, too nourishing to require analysis.
And yet we cannot be wrong in bringing to bear on
such a subject such powers of discernment as God
has given us. The principle from which we start is
that if we study the Bible just as we would study
another book we shall then be in a position to affirm
that it is unlike all other books.1 It may be true that
utterances which we for centuries have thought of as
1 Westcott, Contemporary Review, No. 456, p. 791.
37

38 THE BEATITUDES
divine, baffle analysis in the same sort of way as other
great forces, intellectual and moral, are beyond our
powers of statement and explanation, such as the
influence of a great personality, the power of elo
quence, of music, of natural scenery. Still a careful
scrutiny of the main drift of these words, what they
say and what they leave unsaid, will be found to
suggest thoughts not without some degree of illu
mination for life's deeper problems.1
It soon becomes evident, however, that the meaning
and purpose of the Beatitudes cannot be estimated
1 There are certain points which may escape notice. The opening
benediction in ver. 3 is repeated in ver. 10, and, strictly rendered, would
be " inasmuch as of them is the kingdom of heaven," but with the excep
tion of these two all the second clauses, giving the reason why certain
classes of men are blessed, are in the future tense. The second beatitude,
for instance, expresses an emphasis exactly similar to that of the next
five. "Blessed are they that mourn: inasmuch as they are those who
shall be comforted." Again, we observe that in the first eight sayings the
third person plural is used, but in the last we read, " Blessed are ye";
and not only is the pronoun remarkable, but we have in the tense " are,"
not "shall be," some indication that the previous assertions of blessedness
are to be taken in the present time though the reason is in the future.
Another feature in the sayings is that the benediction is pronounced
as a fact, not as a wish — "blessed are," not "may they be blessed."
This is consonant to the tone of authority employed by our Lord
throughout. And this becomes all the more striking when we remem
ber that the classes chosen to be so characterised are mainly — not
entirely — those whom the ordinary opinion of mankind would unanimously
select as the least blessed. This, at least, applies directly to the first
selection, "the poor in spirit" (St. Luke "the poor"). The second
" they that mourn," " the meek," " they that hunger and thirst after
righteousness " (as opposed to the contented), and the last two, " they that
have been persecuted for righteousness' sake " and the hearers " when
men shall reproach and persecute," &c. It is as if Christ were surveying
the motley ranks of mankind, and saw them to consist of a vast horde pre
dominantly not poor in spirit, nor mourners, nor meek, but striving
incessantly to be the exact opposite, under the conviction that the state
which they were shunning is not a state of blessedness but misery ; and
He opens His discourse with a deliberate verdict that this mass of
opinion and practice is wrong. The despised minority are the blessed
ones.

THE BEATITUDES 39
without reference to the principal line of thought
followed by the Sermon as a whole. This, after the
explanation in the Introduction, may be taken to be
the Fatherhood of God in its relation to man's needs,
the range of its influence, its absolute sufficiency
as a guiding and sustaining principle of life. Man
is viewed throughout as a child of God, and cer
tain typical problems of conduct and feeling are
taken to show how this fact ought to affect ordinary
people in their passage from the cradle to the grave.
This great idea, however, gives one aspect of God —
our Lord gives us another, to which He points almost
as frequently ; it is the aspect of God as Sovereign.1
What is the essential meaning of Fatherhood ?
Clearly that of the transmission of life. It is easy to
fall into a way of thinking that the teaching about
God as a Father would apply equally well to Him if
He were regarded by us as no more than a guardian
or friend. This must be a mistake. The telling
emphasis with which our Lord repeats the familiar
phrase, especially in chap, vi., forbids us to eviscerate
it of its central meaning. If, then, we conceive of God
as a giver of Life, spiritual, mental, and physical (if it
helps us so to classify different aspects of it) clearly
we must conceive of ourselves as recipients of such
life. And the more we ponder on the immensity of
this idea the more it illuminates the problems of
conduct and questions as to states of feeling, and the
more too it reveals itself as dominating the whole of
what we ordinarily mean by duty. That is to say, if
man is simply a recipient, so that literally every single
1 It is to be noticed that the two ideas are emphasised separately in
the following passages : Sovereignty in v. 3, 10, 19, 20, 34, 35 ; vi. 33 ;
vii. 31. Fatherhood, v. 9, 16, 45, 48 ; vi. 1, 4, 6, 8, 9, 14, 15, 18, 26, 32;
vii. 11,21. So that if we judge simply by the number of passages, the idea
of God's Fatherhood would seem to be the more prominent.

40 THE BEATITUDES
higher aspiration, every holy thought and right desire
is due entirely to God's giving, and every hope of
progress is grounded on nothing but His wish to give,
and on a certain power of receptivity which is ours,
it is plain that the whole of life's problem may be
expressed quite simply in some such Words as these 1
our whole duty is to do what is in our power to enlarge
our capacity for receiving*$&nd then, as a necessary
consequence of our thankfulness of heart, to see how
we may best pass on to others the knowledge of this
boundless store of gifts which are to be had for the
asking* If, then, the essential idea of Fatherhood is the
transmission of life$that of Sovereignty is the exact
ing of allegiance. Hence we expect to find in the
Sermon that the true attitude for man to assume to
wards God is not only that of thankful, trustful
dependence, but of obedience also to law, binding
on him as a member of a kingdom and affecting his
conduct towards his fellows. Men have differed at
different times in their readiness to conceive of them
selves as members of a society* In England we are
still dominated by individualistic ideas in religion, and
are prone to measure the religious life by the simple
but sombre claims of routine duty. We shall find
that Christ in this Sermon, as elsewhere, blends into a
harmonious unity the conceptions of Fatherhood and
Soverignty in His restatement of the moral law, so as
to lift the mind of the merely conscientious man to
an apprehension of spontaneous unmeasured service
of sonship in a community-life : this last idea belong
ing both to that of family or of kingdom. We are at
once introduced to the vitally important question on
which St. Paul's mind was for many years eagerly
set — the contrast between Judaism and Christianity,
the law and the Gospel : works and faith. And look-

THE BEATITUDES 41
ing a little more closely into the structure of the
Sermon, we find that though the two conceptions or
aspects of life's claim on man are never dissociated,
yet the subject of the first chapter is predominantly
such a restatement of the prohibitions of the Old
Testament as to annihilate the formal routine spirit of
obedience b^showing the illimitable character of the
moral law A^ Then in vi. and vii. guidance is given
to the spirit of sonship which, though eager and
kindled with emotion, may be victimized by the most
insidious of all enemies to goodness, a selfish desire
for admiration.
Thus the two ideas are very rich, and seem to cover
human life. And yet if this were all, if we were
coming to the Sermon afresh, quite ignorant of
its contents but expecting to find in it principles
deep enough and wide enough to guide us through
the darkest perplexities of life, we should find the
teaching grievously insufficient. Sooner or later the
question will be urgently pressed, what are we to
believe about pain and evil ? And all the more are
we constrained to ask this when we reflect on it in
the light of the fact that God is here revealed to us
as a Father and a King. There is something pecu
liarly insistent in the challenge which is thus given ;
how is that Fatherhood or that Sovereignty to be con
ceived of as operative in any real and satisfying sense
if along with them we have to take into account the
abiding and heart-rending horrors of human life and
the incalculable sufferings of the animal world ? The
claim put forward for the Beatitudes is that in some
surpassing manner they bring comfort and light to
mankind vexed with problems of unspeakable gravity
and depth. What do they say, then, about pain and
evil ?
A glance at the sentences themselves will show that

42 THE BEATITUDES
these great subjects are not ignored, but are present
in every phrase. They condition and determine the
wording and the message of each sublime utterance,
but the method of handling them which the Speaker
adopts is beyond all description original and impres
sive. This will become clear if we put before our
selves the position in which our Lord was, as a
Teacher, and the practical requirements of the
situation. We may assume that He was speaking to an
audience far larger than the crowds that were
gathered round Him on the hillside in Galilee. If so,
He had to take into account the very different way in
which the problems of life were viewed by Jews and
Gentiles, and among the latter by Greeks and Romans;
or, as the centuries rolled on, by Oriental and Euro
pean peoples. What conceivable form of teaching
could possibly satisfy the Jewish mind to begin with,
and then all the different types of temperament which
the lapse of time would assuredly bring into contact
with the message ? And the question assumes a
peculiar urgency from the fact that no phenomenon
of life evokes and discloses such deep differences in
human minds as the facts of pain and evil and their
bearing on the belief in God. And yet we feel sure
that He who said " Heaven and earth shall pass
away, but My words shall not pass away " was
perfectly aware of the extent and complexity
of the demand that would be made upon Him;
that His message would be subjected to the most
searching tests by minds of utmost variety, wholly
different in respect of training, hereditary associations,
outlook and aspiration.
We may pause for a moment before answering the
question to remark that, however the Speaker dealt
with this demand, He dealt with it successfully and,

THE BEATITUDES 43
as far as we can tell, with supreme ease. The Beati
tudes never wholly fail to win their way to men's
hearts and minds when they are given a fair chance
of being heard and understood ; and yet there is no
hint that the Speaker had to weigh His words anxi
ously, or to select His topics with any peculiar care.
From the mysterious abyss of divine wisdom these
rich and inexhaustible maxims are drawn, showing a
wholly unembarrassed mastery of the full extent of
man's needs, a marvellous sympathy with his infirmi
ties, and a belief in his latent heroism, but also a
startling independence of the claims upon Him, which
were certain to be made by different types of minds
in the future. What were these ?
They may be broadly classified into two great divi
sions — the speculative and the practical, and they
would be exemplified by the attitude towards evil
taken up by such different peoples as the Oriental and
the Teutonic. To minds of a meditative cast the fact
that things go deplorably wrong in this world, and
on a vast scale, is a tremendous stumbling-block in
the way of any joyful recognition of God's Fatherhood
or of His sovereignty. There seems to be a profound
intellectual and moral contradiction between the facts
of life which they see before them and a sense of
sonship which they feel within them and cannot
wholly ignore. Hence their view of life lacks unity
and consistency. Others, impatient of the intellec
tual contradiction and ill content with any hesitating
acquiescence in things as they are, feel impelled to
attack the manifold forms of mischief, injustice,
wrong-headedness, and decay which they see around
them and know to be within them. What the first
of these two classes of men — those of speculative or
reflective minds— desire is some reconciliation be
tween facts and convictions ; while the other class —

44 THE BEATITUDES
that of the earnest practical reformers — crave for
some encouragement in their warfare against " sin,
the world, and the devil," and one would suppose
that no teaching which failed to satisfy either of
these elemental demands could win wide acceptance
among mankind. There is, moreover, a third set
of ideas with which Christ was brought into con
tact, and which could not be left out of account
by any teacher at that time in Palestine— those
belonging to the Semitic or Jewish mind. It
has been pointed out that, while being more prac
tical than speculative, contemporary Judaism was
steeped in the slavish spirit of literal obedience to
moral precepts, such a spirit as would make it extra
ordinarily dangerous to preach to them for fear of
the effect of Rabbinical training and associations.1
These were the three principal tendencies in men's
minds with which our Lord was confronted. Specu
lative minds would demand a teaching about evil
which was intellectually satisfying; practical re
formers needed encouragement, and the contem
porary Judaism was likely to mistake any moral
teaching, and mar its message by an over-literal
outward observance.
The demand upon our Lord which arose from the
third of these three classes was met by the paradoxical
form into which the moral precepts were cast. But
with regard to the other two, we are astonished to find
that He apparently takes no account of either. He
did not touch the speculative difficulty as such, nor
even allude to any reconciliation of the convictions in
men's hearts and the grim facts of life ; nor, on the
other hand, did He promise victory to the practical
man's efforts at reform. And yet the Beatitudes, from
1 R. W. Dale, " Laws of Christ for Common Life," second edition,
p. 219.

THE BEATITUDES 45
beginning to end, are full of the subjects of pain and
evil. Whatever, then, Christ's exact method is, it is
strikingly original in what it is not, and significant for
what it avoids ; for it avoids just those two ways of
treating the subject which we should have believed to
be indispensable to success.
If, then, the Beatitudes arrest our attention for what
they do not say on the subjects of pain and evil, can
we plainly state what their message is ? What kind
of teaching do they exemplify ?
The answer is that they speak of a certain tone of
mind as all-important which is certainly not the
philosophic nor the self-confident ; but may better
be described as a blending of tranquil submissiveness
and invincible hope. ^Jnstead of explaining the exist
ence of pain and evil or prophesying their abolition,
our Lord simply affirms that blessedness belongs to those
who come directly under their influence and are subjected
to the full severity of their onslaught. V True happiness,
He says, belongs to the unhappy ; to those who
mostly, because of evil operating in others, are de
prived of all that for which men in this world naturally
crave— wealth, fame, and the like. With regard to
some of the affirmations, this is obvious. But it is
less easy to take in that from start to finish Christ
insists on the blessedness not of explaining evil nor of
conquering it, but of its results. For instance, ver. 3
may be paraphrased^" Owing to the evil in man's
nature he is powerless to rise in his own strength ;
and yet he yearns to do so. Everything depends on
his grasping the fact and so spending his life as one
utterly dependent. Blessed are they who in feeling
and aspiration are petitioners. This is the result of
evil within them, that they have a sense of something
lost ; of a life which they need, as they have it not in
themselves, but in this result lies their blessedness."

46 THE BEATITUDES
Similarly in ver. 6 there is an affirmation that true
happiness consists in a state of mind which is the
direct and inevitable outcome of the particular phase
of evil which we notice as slowness of progress to
wards something better. Again, ver. 7 speaks of a
state of feeling towards that in others which is either
pain or evil, and to that state blessedness belongs.
Purity of heart, whether the expression be taken in
its broader or narrower sense, plainly means freedom
from evil contamination ; and if that freedom is pro
nounced blessed, it is hardly possible for us to con
ceive of it as merely the freedom which is due to
innocence or ignorance of evil, but that which with
full knowledge of evil persists in single devotion to
God. In the word " peacemakers " we seem to have
promise of something like triumph. The word seems
to speak of evil brought to an end, and of a state
of things to which we should apply some such term
as Messianic, beginning to dawn on the world. But
it is very questionable whether we can conceive of
peacemaking unless there exists simultaneously a
tendency to strife. It is true that more than any
other of these great sayings, this one promises some
thing like success to efforts in the cause of goodness ;
but suppose the antagonism ceases owing to the
completeness of the success, would the blessing
remain ?
It may be observed that with reference to this old-
world problem men are strongly inclined at the
present day to surmise that evil is good in disguise, as
they have often felt with regard to pain, and while
surmising thus to fight it. But we notice that Christ
discourages all speculation on this topic. Throughout
His teaching He seems to feel that the importance of
present conduct, or rather of present tone of mind, is
so overwhelming that there is something unworthy of

THE BEATITUDES 47
a rational being in the attempt to fathom the mystery,
or to forecast, however cautiously, its issue. The pre
sent is everything.1
The more, then, our thoughts are turned in this
direction the more anxiously we wait for some pro
mise of success in our fight against pain, misery, and
wrong, and the greater our surprise that no such
promise is given. But the truth is, it is easy to ex
aggerate the degree to which combativeness should
enter into the Christian life.2 There are two kinds of
1 A very interesting parallel is to be found in Job xxviii. sub fin. and
Dr. Davidson's note. There is something similar in Shakespear's view of
life, according to Mazzini. Cf. Dowden's " Shakespear's Mind and Art,"
p. 329, second edition, 1876, note : " His genius comprehends and sums up
the past and the present : it does not initiate the future."
2 It is significant that such of the promised blessings as may be thought
of as bringing victory with them are attached to virtues which are the
least congenial to the restless activity of the modern reforming spirit.
" Theirs is the kingdom of heaven," " they shall inherit the earth."
Such words breathe a promise of a certain kind of victory. But (1) it is
difficult to say how far they imply the overcoming of the resistance of an
evil power ; and (2) they are attached to the least militant of the virtues
enumerated, i.e. meekness and poverty of spirit, and again to the endur
ance of persecution.
As against this view it may be urged that Christ uses the future tense
in the statements as to the promised blessings, that is in the second half
of each verse, seven times out of nine. But it should be noticed that, as
generally is the case with prophecy, even in Scripture, the time is left
quite uncertain. We are inclined to imagine a state of things when evil
shall be vanquished. But as far as the Beatitudes are concerned, our Lord
has not shown us whether the promises point forward to the time of that
consummation or only to a future time on this side of the consummation.
There is much to be said for the view that they all fall within the period
of the present Dispensation, i.e. of the conflict between good and evil,
and do not speak of the future towards which we naturally yearn, when
all antagonism shall have ceased.
Moreover, whatever view we take of this, it is plain that the future is
spoken of in the Beatitudes not as depreciating the importance of the
present, but rather as enhancing it, throwing light upon its significance,
and interpreting the greatness of its claim. The very last thing we are
justified in doing is to suppose that our Lord holds out a prospect before
US of QtJQse tranquillity and bliss without development, such as has often

48 THE BEATITUDES
temper with which evil is withstood ; the one active,
the other passive. One servant of Christ is strenuous
and stirs up forces into active aggression against the
foe ; he must be up and doing, planning, combining,
rousing. Another employs a wholly different set of
weapons. He is militant, but passively rather than
actively. We find there is naturally fostered in him
a kind of heavenly-mindedness which manifests itself,
of course in opposition to evil, but not in strife and
effort, as these words are ordinarily understood.
There can be no doubt which of these two tempers
of mind is the more in harmony with the Beatitudes.
We seem to catch from these sentences the same
spirit as that in which our Lord affirmed that in com
parison with Martha Mary had chosen the better
part ; and whatever inferences may be drawn from
the remainder of His teaching it cannot be disputed
that there is in the Western European or, rather,
English ideal of restless crusading against vice, and
all kinds of noisy movements against evils as old as
mankind, something out of keeping with the tone of
the Sermon. And this remark is true, in spite of the
fact that the Sermon is constantly spoken of as the
great warrant for the contrary. The question does
not concern us here ; excepting that the necessity
may be pointed out of our thinking carefully how far
we are justified in appealing to a Discourse framed in
praise of the passive form of goodness, when we wish
to fortify our resolution for an active kind of warfare
which is probably far more congenial to our tempera
ment. The attitude towards evil which is here en-
been the dream of popular theology. These promises are best understood
as forecasting a state of things when much of what is now misinterpreted
as unmitigated evil will be seen to be blessing ; and it is most noteworthy
how much encouragement is given by the New Testament for this point
of view.

THE BEATITUDES 49
joined upon us is that of lights shining ia darkness,
on salt, acting quietly on its surroundings ; but the
Beatitudes are emphatically eloquent on the further
duty of; withstanding evil by gentleness, loving-kind
ness, and mercy towards mien, and by incessant
dependence on God. To say that this spirit of gentle
ness is not in harmony with the Teutonic tempera
ment is not the same as to show that it is foolish
or ineffective : but rather that we require to study
it all the more carefully.
How sublime, indeed, is the calm mastery shown
by the Saviour over the. whole conditions of the
problem ! Doubtless, He might have secured a more
effective temporary/allegiance if there had been in His
tone something more definitely eloquent of victory,
from which the men of action might have gathered
hope, or of philosophic explanation on which inquir
ing wistful minds might have rested. Great and
marvellous is the strength which, in presence of such
demands as tfoese, can afford to be patient. How
difficult it must have been to do this ! Yet it was
done, and with this success that, though He avoids
ail explicit mention of the end, insisting only on the
need of a certain spirit now in the present, yet we
feel assured that on this great subject He had His
reasons for silence, and so we are enabled to trust
His depth of insight and inexhaustible sympathy.
Thus we place ourselves at the right point of view
for contemplating the purpose of the Beatitudes if
we connect the two main topics : It is as if Christ
said, " I am going to tell you about God being your
Father and your King ; but there is one set of facts
which seem at the very outset to forbid you to think
of God under either aspect^-the facts of suffering and
evil prevailing against good. I tell you they are not to
be so regarded, but to be welcomed as blessings veiled.

50 THE BEATITUDES
Your instincts are to avoid them in life and to ignore
them in thought, but I tell you that this is suicidal.
In your willing acceptance of them lies your blessed
ness." Thus the air is cleared for the statement of
the kind of service required from those who know
themselves as God's children.
« BLESSED ARE THE POOR IN SPIRIT"
v. 3
In considering the meaning of these words we
should first take notice of the critical question raised
by the parallel passage in St. Luke being differently
worded : " Blessed are ye poor " — a very different
class from the poor in spirit. The " poor " refers
to what man has ; "poor in spirit" to what man is.
And the former apparently states that there is a
blessedness simply in affliction. Students have built
up theories as to the composition of the Sermon
on the fact of the divergence in the opening
words. It is, however, not difficult to see that
both sayings correspond exactly to that which we
perceive to be the main principle of the discourse.
Poverty of spirit may be taken to mean the absence
of self-congratulation and self-assertion, the unwilling
ness to advance claims, a lowly idea of what one has
to start with ; hence a readiness to feel dependence.
Clearly this is a temperament or state of feeling
favourable to the development of the spirit of son-
ship, whereby man realises that it is from God alone
that he receives life. No less is the influence of
simple poverty favourable to lifting the mind to the
conception of utter dependence on God. A com
mand of this world's resources is the natural con
comitant of such acquiescence in human lot as

BLESSED ARE THE POOR IN SPIRIT 51
militates against the notion of our being utterly
dependent on God. Thus the two forms of expres
sion are equally appropriate to the opening of this
discourse, whatever may be the history of the diver
gence in their wording.1
Interesting questions are raised by the form of
words in which Christ explains His verdicts: "For
theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Is this the pro
mise of a reward in the next world ? Is it earned
as by right, or is it what we should call a natural
consequence ?
Let it be observed, first, that the tense used, though
present in form, is to some extent future in meaning.
The statement, " They are those to whom the kingdom
naturally belongs, or who are naturally fitted to take
possession of it," is a present statement if the said
kingdom is an established fact, but a future statement
if the kingdom is still only a prospect. Christ's own
conception of the kingdom was that it was near at
hand (iv. 17), and we may therefore start by saying
that the words do not simply mean, " For they have
entered into it," but rather something of this kind,
" Inasmuch as they are fitted for the kingdom, and to
them it naturally belongs." In other words, the state
ment concerns their present fitness for a privilege
shortly going to be conferred on them. When ? Now
it is clear that no approximate answer can be given
to this question unless we first indicate in what
sense the expression " kingdom of heaven " is used.
' It is difficult not to form a conjecture as to the origin of this diver
gence. Supposing our Lord first said, "Blessed are ye poor" (Luke
vi. 20), and there was shortly afterwards a conversation on the exact
meaning of the phrase, He would naturally go on to explain that in
poverty per se no blessedness lives, but only in so far as poverty provides
an environment more favourable to humility than wealth does. Then
according as His hearers were struck either with the original saying or the
amplification of it, it got to be recorded in two versions.

52 THE BEATITUDES
It would not be possible to do this so as to satisfy
all students of Christ's teaching, but it is not difficult
to select one broad interpretation which will com
mend itself to many minds.1 It is that our Lord
conceived of a sphere of grace under the figure of
a kingdom ; and that because His own relationship
to God was filial in quite a unique sense, human
beings were invited to a spiritual but vitally close
relationship with Him the Son of God and Son of
Man, which would mean an imparting of life to them
by Him similar to the imparting of life by God the
Father to the Son. The consciousness of His re
lationship to God made it possible for Christ to
conceive and establish a new living bond between
Himself and mankind ; potentially with all mankind,
but in fact with a group only, as, normally, the
sphere of the fulfilling of His word, a group which
was to be formed immediately and go on expanding
to the end of time.
As to this fact that as recipients of the Divine
revelation men were dealt with in a gradually ex
panding group, our minds are differently affected.
To some men it is a satisfaction to point out that
the Almighty is not bound by His own limits ; that
grace has often been given outside the group, just
as from one point of view the Sacraments are essential
to salvation, from another not. Some prefer to blur
the facts which show how the Divine influence comes
actually in contact with human history; others will
emphasise them. To us it seems impossible to ignore
the Day of Pentecost as a decisive moment, foretold
by Christ, the prospect of which modified His teaching.
This, then, would be the answer to the question,
When ? but it is not unlikely that there are minds
1 See Dr. Orr's article "Kingdom of God" in Hastings' "Bible
Dictionary."

BLESSED ARE THE POOR IN SPIRIT 53
which would prefer that the question should not
be put.
We may then conceive of Christ as sojourning
among mankind and yearning to impart life already
received, and feeling within Himself the capacity of
an infinite store of that wondrous thing after which
all right-minded human beings were blindly feeling.
It was that Divine gift which we call spiritual life.
Now all life has a marvellous adaptability, and the
variety of its manifestations seem to us almost in
exhaustible. So we should have expected our Lord
to have told men that it was suited to every form
of temperament, character, and condition. But at
the very outset He surprises us with a limitation.
After all, the " unspeakable gift" was to be suited
to one class more than all others that might be
named, and that class consists of those who know
themselves to have nothing^
So far Christ reveals a fundamental truth about
mankind. The mass of men set up a false standard
of life, elevating self-sufficiency as a quality worthy
of high esteem. And how thoroughly justified this
opinion would be were it not that 'we live under a dis
pensation of grace 1 It is far from obvious why we
decry self-esteem. It would seem that the simplest
condition of happiness is to be sure that self is
adequately provided by Nature with faculties and
goods for the successful conduct of life. And, in
support of this, we may refer 'to the fact that self-
disparagement, even if thoroughly genuine, hardly
meets with approval.~^"Let it go to such a point
that a human being really thinks and speaks of him
self as worthless, the conviction soon would grow
that he cannot be far wrong in his estimate, and
it would be felt that if such a person were to im
prove, one of the first symptoms would be that, in

54 THE BEATITUDES
a sense, he would begin to think better of himself.
This would probably not amount to self-esteem, but
it would be what we call self-respect, a necessary
ingredient in every high character. But how is this
consistent with Christ's words ?
For there is good ground for believing the exact
sense of these to be " Blessed those whose tone and
temper, feelings and convictions, are those of one
who realises that he is poor." 1 Clearly we cannot
suppose that Christ attributes blessedness to one who
is destitute of good things but thinks he is not.
And if this is so, the parallel passage, " Blessed are
the poor," must mean the same as our text. More
over, "poor" must not be taken as simply impe
cunious. Whatever be the blessing attached to what
we ordinarily term poverty will attach to all forms of
what we conceive of as insufficiency of equipment —
stupidity, ill-health, incapacity for sympathy, unpopu
larity, want of tact, &c. And though from this point
of view the paradox becomes still more startling, yet
we are enabled to get nearer to the answer to our
question if we take the words in an unrestricted sense.
Thirdly, it would be nonsense to attribute blessedness
to the poor, unless in some way the prospect before
them be to become rich. That is to say, either they
are to be compensated for the exact loss or disability
under which they are now labouring, by receiving the
corresponding form of wealth — if in want of money,
they are to be made rich ; if physically weak, physically
strong, &c. — or they are to receive some other bless
ing, so precious as to far outweigh the loss ; and,
especially if this other blessing is found to depend
actually on the fact of the disability, and to be so
1 Cf. Rom. viii. 15 : "Not the spirit of bondage," i.e. the character of
one who thinks he is a. bondsman, but that of one who knows he is an
adopted son.

BLESSED ARE THE POOR IN SPIRIT 55
related to it that the very severity of the disability
becomes a measure of the amount of the compensa
tory blessing. If there be anything in life which can
be so described, then the opening words of our Lord's
great Sermon are fraught with meaning for us and
instinct with truth.
The condition, then, which is thus indicated is
that which belongs to the main conception under
lying the Sermon — that men are God's children,
receivers of life from Him. Whatever form of poverty
may be intended, poverty in any shape helps to
stir in man a sense of need, a disposition to consider
himself as dependent.^ If the main fact of our exist
ence is simply this, that for the highest of all possible
goods, comprehensively denoted by the word life, we
can look to God alone, then a condition which pre
disposes us to the right kind of dissatisfaction with
ourselves will also help us to trust more and more
to the promises given us concerning the power of
right asking. Then, what words could more appro
priately picture the true state of the case than " Blessed
are those who realise that they are poor," especially
when we remember that " poor " means generally
lacking all kinds of endowment of good things, and,
further, is closely connected with the idea of living
by begging.1
/ If this exposition of the text be sound, the real
puzzle of life consists not in the fact of widespread
poverty but in that of widespread affluence ; in the fact
that so many are sufficiently endowed with "goods"
as to believe that they can live by them, and so cease
to look for their true life to God their Father. Or
1 This precise sense of the word forbids us to water down the expression
as if it could mean blessed are the poor (i.e. humble) in spirit. It is
nothing to the purpose to urge the English expression "poor-spirited,"
which accidentally recalls the text and denotes a wholly different idea.

56 THE BEATITUDES
rather we may put it in this way. Seeing :that a
feeling of poverty in its widest sense is a necessary
symptom of a Godward habit of mind, and that want
of natural blessings is a condition obviously favour
able to such a feeling ; how do We explain the uni
versality of the instinct which prompts us not only
to guard ourselves against poverty, but to diminish
it as far as we can in the case of others ? To deal
with this question would carry us too far. But it
may be remarked that there is one kind of wealth
which man, with all his dulness 'of perception, hesitates
to worship ; that which consists simply in abundance
of -money. There is one apostolical precept which
we find easy to obey, " Covet earnestly the best
gifts " ; but whatever the conduct of our lives may
be, we could hardly dare to assert that a&ong these
" best gifts " St. Paul included taOney. Other giftsiafe
often misused, it is true, and 'easily divert our atten
tion from the Giver to the gift and its possessor. But
man can feel at peace with "regard to these; they must
be given for a good purpose, which he can help in
Carrying out ; but the putting of money to a good
purpose is a far more complicated problem, and in
creasingly so as the amount 'Of it increases. This
seems to be because, as compared With the others, it
is man's own creation and the fruit of his (often)
Godless effort.1
1 Since writing the above I have read Zahn's lucid explanation of
the Greek expressiofi trriaxol t$ TrVebyjjfri. ; and while gratified to find that
the above explanation is substantially in accord with his, I would draw
attention to the following points which serve to define the exact signifi
cation of the words. Hraixbs differs from irinns and ivSefy in that it em
phasises the notion of begging as distinct from that of simply lacking.
Hence the idea of dependence belongs to the word. Among the wild and
erroneous explanations which have been given, all those which make
'weiip.an the object of the adjective are excluded by the simple gram
matical rale that any of the adjectives expressing lacking would require a
genitive of the thing lacked, apart from the wholly inappropriate ?ense

BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN 57
" BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN "
v. 4
We read these familiar words and contemplate
human life as we see it, and we find that grief is
regarded with something like unanimity as an un
mitigated evil ; and that where this view is not held,
it is where it is being displaced by a new theory that
pain, even physical pain, grief, disappointment, &c,
are not fit to be called evils, for they are illusions.
The.y do not really exist ; and if the mind is trained
to a right view of things, it ceases to feel sorrow
and the body to feel pain. So we wonder if
there is any genuine acceptance of this verdict of
Christ's that those who feel grief — the mourners —
are blessed.
On all sides there is a disposition to emphasise
aspects of facts apparently in direct contradiction to
these words. Kindly persons, deeply religious per
haps, when they hear of any one in sorrow, not only
do their best to alleviate it, but are genuinely glad
when they hear that it has passed away ; and no one
would dream of blaming them. Moreover, such a
spirit seems to be that of our Lord Himself, Who
went about " doing good," in other words, removing
the causes of the mourning which He here pro-
which would be given. The dative case here Zahn takes as in the expres
sion xaSapol tj; KapStq., as a case denoting respect, "which in conjunction
with adjectives and intransitive or passive participles was one of the
datives used in Bible Greek instead of the accusative of respect. The
word " poor" " betokens not a condition but a relation," of course towards
'God. "'In spirit " then would mean the same as in our expression "a
haughty spirit " or " a humble spirit " ; but it is tempting to bring in the
signification of irvevp.a as the, portion of our being which is in communica
tion with God : this idea being auxiliary to the idea of relation involved
in irf a\bs.

58 THE BEATITUDES
nounces to be blessed. And when one of His
followers gives his life to the removal of human
suffering we canonise him, and no persuasion will
ever make us believe that a life so spent, as by
the late Lord Shaftesbury, was spent in vain ; in
other words, in contravention of the will of God.
Yet it is not too much to say that though dimly
and perhaps with a distorted notion of their mean
ing, people do hold that these words contain a truth ;
and it is wonderful that they should have any such
belief, seeing that whole torrents of public opinion,
conventional conduct, and the sayings of even the
best Christians form a strong influence to under
mine it. An enormous proportion of men's efforts,
inventiveness, foresight, and brain-power are devoted
to the avoidance of all occasions of mourning. This
must be because we think all such experiences are
evil. But, though we try to avoid it, bereavement
comes ; and then, it is true, mourning follows as a
matter of course. But not because we believe it to
be in any sense blessed. We wish to show others
that we loved the lost one, and to secure from
them, if we can, some sympathy in our grief. Both
of these are innocent and natural feelings ; but
one is independent of, the other antagonistic to,
the plain meaning of the maxim which our Lord
delivered. It is, in short, evident that there is a great deal in
sorrow with which logic and common-sense have little
to do. If we have in our minds a vaguely pious feel
ing that grief, bereavement, loss, destitution, and such
things are helpful towards bringing us nearer to God,
then it is impossible to justify logically the almost
universal practice of shunning them. If, on the other
hand, we take a merely worldly view of grief — that it
is an unmitigated evil — why do we think it right to in-

BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN 59
dulge it to a certain extent ? And, thirdly, if it is for
some inexplicable reason right to indulge it, why and
on what principle is a limit set ? But if these ques
tions show how little influence common-sense has in
this matter, our feeling is nevertheless that in tran
scending common-sense we get nearer the truth ; and
in no subject perhaps is it so generally admitted
that an ordinary rational, logical point of view is hope
lessly inadequate to deal with the facts of life. It may
well be that here at the very start we get a glimpse of
the blessing spoken of in the text.
But we must define a little as to the meaning of the
words used. The Greek word for " mourn " is as well
translated as is possible. It frequently means mourn
ing for bereavement, and would include grief for
almost any kind of loss, but not perhaps for the sense
of such affliction as a disease. Yet we need not re
strict the application of the saying at all narrowly. If
it applies to bereavement, it is probably true also of
pain and sickness, and anyhow is no more difficult to
explain in one sense than in the other. We next have
to ask if there are qualifying words to be supplied,
such as "in the right spirit." Is the blessing pro
nounced on all mourning and grieving, such, for in
stance, as the unreflecting grief of a child, or only on
such grief as is known and felt to be the means of
bringing us nearer to God ? In our text the words
are unqualified, no less so than in St. Luke vi., and
our problem is to interpret what is before us, not
something else.
We think, then, of grief as penetrating into an ordi
nary unthinking life, and being borne like any other
disagreeable experience, just as a child endures dis
appointment unthinkingly. Such an incident in life
seems to promise little enough. Is there any blessing
or beginning of a blessing attached to it ? Is a man

60 THE BEATITUDES
who has lost his best friend necessarily better than
one who has not ? The answer would be that grief
can only bring a blessing if it acts as a kind of pre
paration for something else. If it leads to nothing, as
we say, it is simply unpleasant, and that is all. And
we may assent to the ordinary view of this subject so
far as to say that things unpleasant simply as such,
considered apart from what they may lead to, are evil.
But if there is anything in sorrow which naturally and
inevitably fits it to be a preparation, we begin to see
a meaning in the text, and some kind of explanation
of man's illogical attitude towards this ingredient in
his life. For let it be observed that this text, like the
other Beatitudes, in reserving the future tense for the
second clause, points forward. Something is said
about the present, which is explained by something
else going to happen later. That is almost tantamount
to indicating the preparatory character of the discipline
of grief.
In asking, then, for what is a preparation, we look
closely at the second clause, " For they are those who
shall be comforted " ; and we see at once that, what
ever is meant by " comforted " here, the statement sO
far is explicit enough, viz. that something called com
fort is reserved alone, or at least specially, for those
who pass through the experience of grief. We must
not be mechanical in our explanation here. Some
times people think of " comfort " as if it were simply a
restoration to the status quo ante ; as if spiritually a man
were the same after as before a loss, if the loss is made
up to him. If this were so the text would be mean
ingless, in that it emphatically confines the blessing
to a certain class, and explains it partly by the promise
that " comfort " is coming to that class and no other ;
whereas if all that is meant is a restoration or com-
pensation, clearly others who have not suffered

BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN 61
any loss nor required any compensation are just
as well off.
At this point we require a concrete instance. The
best illustration of our Lord's words is the experience
of the Apostles in, the matter of the Passion and Death
of Christ, and the light it throws on the power of
sorrow. It would be almost a profanation to apply the words,
" Behold and see if there be any sorrow like unto My
sorrow," to* any except the Lord Himself. But if ever
men had any sort of title to: use these words of- them
selves, it was the devoted band who witnessed the drama
enacted on Calvary, and yet, after a few days, passed
through an ineffable experience which allowed them
to return to. Jerusalem, " praising and blessing God."
Whatever else this experience gained for them, it gave
them that rich insight into the meaning of life through
which they learnt, not by reasoning, but in some
more satisfying way, that loss and soul-piercing sorrow
are the necessary ingredients of the deepest conceiv
able joy. Whatever the world had in store for them,
it was impossible that they should ever again feel
lasting discouragement or despair. The very shocks
which would try their stedfastness, the very destitution
under which they would have to labour, even the
recurrent proofs that success, as ordinarily conceived
of, was not to be for them or their work ; these and
countless other trials they would at once interpret by
the light of their past. They would recognise in
every sorrow the preliminary to a new blessing. And
all subsequent disciples of the Lord have borne testi
mony to the same truth.
There is a clear and deep distinction between the
spiritual gain of one who has suffered without losing
his hold upon God and one who has never known
sorrow, but has lived on an equable level of feeling.

62 THE BEATITUDES
Putting aside a few exceptional cases of persons who
seem to grow in grace independently of the discipline
which to others is quite indispensable, we may say
broadly that our growth in knowledge of God consists
in a deepening idea both of sorrow and joy, and that
there is no joy comparable to that which gradually
absorbs sorrow without extinguishing it, and which,
as far as we can tell, would not be felt without the
sorrow. Normally at least, the smooth untroubled
life is ignorant of the incommunicable rapture born
of grief — a rapture compared to which nothing that
the world can give, not even the sweet influences of
natural beauty, nor the magic of ' art, nor all that
gladdens and uplifts us in human intercourse, is
worthy to be called joy. So much at any rate we
gather from the recorded experiences of those who
have a right to speak on this solemn subject.
" For They Shall Be Comforted "
v. 4
Enough has been said to show the strange in
sufficiency of the prima facie interpretation of this
promise, viz., that if we bear our losses here with
resignation, we shall be comforted hereafter. Life
teaches us that the comfort begins here and now.
And this is easier to understand when we remember
that the English word "comfort" originally meant
" strengthen," and that the Greek word and the future
tense hints at the promise of the Paraclete who was
to be " summoned to the side " of the Apostles — so
the word seems to tell us — for the manifold purpose
of giving consolation in anguish or in bereavement,
and spiritual strength for trial. We should enrich
our idea of the word Comforter to the fullest possible
extent and then apply it to this text. Hence we can

FOR THEY SHALL BE COMFORTED 63
see how among other things the words tell us that
the bearing of bereavement and sorrow — not only in
what is usually called resignation, a mute uncom
plaining, unintelligent acquiescence in the inevitable
— but with a serene confidence in the certainty of
Christ's word "Blessed," brings forth a fruit of
spiritual power, which takes of course the most
varied forms, but is characterised by something after
which all noble hearts habitually yearn. And we can
see plainly that if we all tried daily to fortify ourselves
with the spirit of these words, the world in a very
short time would become a wholly different place to
live in.
But it may be said that all this, after all, assumes
that the words "in the right spirit" are inserted
mentally by the reader or interpreter of the text.
This is only true so far that, like all other experiences,
that of grief may easily be fruitless if he who is visited
by it is incapable of learning.
In short, when sorrow comes upon us we may
learn, but our chance of learning will depend on our
previous convictions on the subject. Before it comes,
what view do people take of sorrow ? We may select
three opinions which in different ways have held some
sway over men's minds. There was once preached
the doctrine that grief and pain and the like are indeed
facts not to be denied, but that they are such ignoble
elements in human life that true virtue consists in
steeling the heart against them, and crushing all
emotion which they tend to stir. This is Stoicism.
The second is the very modern conglomerate of
opinions which go by the name of Christian Science.
In opposition to the Stoics the votaries of this doc
trine maintain that pain and suffering are not facts
but hallucinations, and that if the mind is steadily set
in the right direction and braced by right principle,

64 THE BEATITUDES
nothing in the shape of calamity or affliction can fox
a moment disturb the spirit's serene tranquillity.
" Be convinced that grief isj a delusion, and you. will
cease to grieve."
It should be noticed that these two, doctrines, though
differing considerably, agree in a low estimate of all
deep feeling of sorrow, the one because it is based OH
a delusion, the other because it is unworthy of a
" wise man." Our Lord's emphatic pronouncement
leaves no doubt that He attaches a blessing to those
who feel. The feeling heart has long been recognised
as capable of deeper joys and deeper sorrows than
those to whom a severe calm is the ideal. Men might
discuss ad infinitum as to which of the two yields the
happier life, and, if this world were all, it would be
reasonable to expect opinions to be permanently
divided. But no believer in Christ can be in
doubt. The third of the opinions alluded to is the modern
conventional doctrine that pain; and grief are evils,
and that no amount of trouble spent in eliminating
them from human life is wasted, though when thrust
upon us it is right and proper to give way to. thern to
a certain extent. It is perhaps no indictment against
this view to show that it is inconsistent with itself and
illogical, since in a subject so wrapped in mystery one
feels that th,e logical clearness of any theory would be
a distinct sign of its inadequacy and falseness. But
the serious symptom of error consists in the practical
corollary. Granting the truth of Christ's words, in
whatever sense that truth may be discerned, it should
be admitted on all sides that no line of conduct is so
certain to be fatal as the deliberate systematic mini
mising of these stern, elements in life., It is, of course,
exceedingly difficult to formulate any principles of
action which would simplify the numberless practical

FOR THEY SHALL BE COMFORTED 65
questions belonging to this subject. But much would
be gained if men would steadily contemplate the facts
of life as proving the truth of these words — first, the
impoverishment, the weakening, the decay of vitality,
the narrowing of sympathies which mark the lives of
those who in practice treat sorrow and suffering as
evils to be avoided at any cost ; and conversely, the
mysterious power and happiness not unfrequently to
be discerned as the outcome of grief and hardness
borne " mixed with faith," when the Spirit of Christ
has begun to reveal His working, and by degrees the
insane strivings after an untroubled existence lose
their force, being subordinated more and more to
a very different aspiration — that of doing service to
God. We cannot help asking meantime if our idea of the
sorrow spoken of in this text should include sorrow
for sin ? Certainly, if a distinction is drawn between
remorse for our own sin and grief for the sins of
mankind in general. Sorrow for our own loss, whatever
be the cause of the loss, is legitimate enough, but is
a lower feeling than sorrow for others' loss. And
probably this definition of sorrow indicates not in
adequately the kind of sorrow we ought to feel about
sin. It is a grief springing from a clear sense of a
feeble hold on the life of God ; and when that sense
is a reality, we must grieve. And again, when we dis
tinctly see that others are suffering from this same
feebleness of relation to God, we cannot help feeling
sorrow on their behalf for their deprivation (coupled
of course with burning indignation if God's honour
remains unvindicated) rather than any disgust or dis
like even though they may have fallen into hideous
wickedness. This kind of grief, without aloofness,
for others' sinfulness is a very beautiful grace of
the Christian character, and Christ's benediction on

66 THE BEATITUDES
sorrow surely covers it. And as it is not difficult
for us to perceive the blessedness of sorrowing for
our own sinfulness, and the inexpressible certain hope
of recovery which it brings, so we may feel confidence
that a profound and tender sorrow for the sins of
others is a necessary ingredient in the process of the
great recovery ; for, however clearly we may see that
sin is a necessity of development, it remains none the
less loathsome and evil in itself, and there is no limit
set by modern enlightenment to the depth of grief we
may and ought to feel for the fact of sin in the world.
If we are desirous of securing the blessing promised
by Christ to sorrow, we must be sure that our sorrow
is not watered away by doubts as to what we are
sorrowing about, since the only genuine grief is
that which cannot be touched by appeals to the
reason. This inquiry has revealed something of the depth
of the paradox. The best way of appreciating it is
to consider our Lord's own attitude towards sin ; for
while He was upborne by the steady consciousness
of triumph over evil, and a certainty that God was
ordering all for the best, there is nothing in this know
ledge that for a moment weakens the unspeakable
potency of that sorrow for sin on which — marvellous
indeed is the thought — rests the whole hope of all
mankind.

"BLESSED ARE THE MEEK: FOR THEY SHALL
INHERIT THE EARTH"
v- 5
If this text means anything like what it seems to
mean, viz. that to the gentle the victory in this world
is promised, then it is hardly possible to exaggerate
the unanimity with which, apparently, it is contra-

BLESSED ARE THE MEEK 67
dieted in the ordinary practice of mankind. There
is, perhaps, no object on which men expend more
immense labour and thought than on the provision
of enough physical strength to enable them to enforce
their will on others. We reflect on the absolute de
votion of life which is implied in the existence of
modern standing armies ; the marvellous triumphs of
human intellect absorbed in the elaboration of a
machine for massacring human beings; the burning
self-reproach which prevailed throughout England
at the discovery that before the Boer war we were
ill equipped with engines of destruction ; and we
ask the question, Have we any rag of belief left in
the maxim of the Gospel, " Blessed are the meek :
for they shall inherit the earth," when our actions
unceasingly exhibit a conviction that brute force is
a necessity of life ?
We notice, however, the singular fact that these
modern features of international relations are unlike
those which exist in the relations between individuals.
It is necessary, therefore, to inquire into the principle
underlying our Lord's words, and to ascertain if it
is more binding on men, taken as single units indi
vidually, than on such masses as we call nations ;
and if so, why ? And before we can discern the
principle embodied in the text, it will be advisable to
indicate answers to the two obvious difficulties : the
meaning of the word "meek," and the scope of the
promise about inheriting the earth.
The Greek word for "meek," often used to mean
" soft " in a concrete sense, and applied to character,
expresses broadly the opposite of what we call self-
assertive. Probably " gentle " gives us a more exact
set of associations than " meek," the former word
being free from the slightly disparaging sense of the
latter, but it must be taken as applying to character

68 THE BEATITUDES
and not only manner. There is, for instance, a kind
of gentleness of manner which accompanies the most
pronounced and continuous self-assertion. But gentle
ness of character would mean the consideration for
others' claims and interests which forbids a pushing
or insistence of the claims of self ; and if that insis
tence is backed up by violence, either of speech or
action, it becomes more definitely the opposite of
gentleness, which is too much engaged with the re
quirements of others to care about self and its claims,
and which we find exhibited in perfection by our
Lord during the stormy scenes of the Passion. When
brutally struck on the face by a servant of the High
Priest, His words were perfectly designed to appeal
to the elementary instinct of justice in the man's
mind, and so to lead him to higher things. " If I
have done evil, bear witness of the evil : but if well,
why smitest thou me ? " Here we observe that the
love for the criminal dictates the appeal, and also the
manner of the appeal. His better instincts had to be
evoked, and as a gentle manner and speech is more
likely to succeed than a rough upbraiding manner,
there is no trace of roughness or bitterness in the
tone. Thus real gentleness indicates such habitual
consideration for others as forbids any assertion of
the feelings or claims of self ; and at once we re
cognise that herein lies a mysterious strength which
would be lost if the element of gentleness were absent.
Sooner or later we all come to believe the French
writer's aphorism, La douceur est une force, though the
strength of our belief is very often insufficient to
influence our conduct.
There is unquestionably much that is obscure in
this fact. It is difficult to explain why egoism is in
reality a cause of weakness ; that is to say, as soon as
an individual's own self is felt to be the main object

BLESSED ARE THE MEEK 69
of his attention he ceases to influence us, and after a
time even to interest us. It might have been supposed
that if a man's self was to him supremely absorbing,
the interest of others in that self would be excited ;
but in fact it is just the contrary — the more self-
centred he is the less hold he has on others, and the
more they disregard the " self " which to him is every
thing. Conversely, when any one is found literally
never to think about himself he at once becomes
supremely interesting to others ; and if his own
claims are never pressed, but he is known to be
swayed solely by consideration for others, at once
a power goes forth from him, and that which no
amount of self-assertion would win for him is easily
conceded. Others give in proportion as he refrains
from grasping. Some explanation of this singular
phenomenon may be found in the fact that very often
real forbearance or the refraining from self-assertion
is a sign of self-mastery ; and it is a truism to say that,
generally speaking, one who wishes to control others
must have first learned to govern himself. In art the
same principle is to be discerned. Everywhere self-
suppression is a power ; and though a singer to be
effective must express emotion, it is all-important that
the audience should feel that he has himself in hand,
and is never mastered by the emotions he expresses.
If he is unmoved they may suspect that he feels
nothing, and then they are not touched ; but if he
obviously feels a great deal but never allows his
feeling to mar his expression, they are powerfully
affected by a sense of strength and warmth of feeling
combined. In the quality of gentleness there is often
the same impression given of imperious selfish claims
being successfully curbed by the supremacy of will
or the power of love.
Thus in some departments of life, at any rate, we

70 THE BEATITUDES
begin to understand the words "blessed are the
meek." It remains to inquire into the phrase " they
shall inherit the earth." The alternatives before us
are these : we may assume that the Psalmist, whom
Christ quotes, meant simply that the meek-spirited
were going to win a mundane triumph and be found
ultimately to be stronger in this world than the self-
assertive. But even then it remains uncertain whether
Christ quoted the words in that sense, or as meaning
quite vaguely that the victory some day will be with
the meek, nothing' being said to show if the reference
is not primarily to the next world. Clearly the fact of
quotation makes it impossible to expect certainty in
this matter, but we may perhaps be guided by our
Lord's habit of appealing in His public discourses to
the understanding and feelings of ordinary unenlight
ened minds. This would point to the words being
used in a popular sense not demanding any special
knowledge of the Psalmist's writing or of past
history. But granting this, we have to remember
that the popular sense of a well-known saying changes
imperceptibly perhaps from one century to another,
till at last it is very far removed from the idea in
the writer's mind. We may, however, assume that
the fact of a poetical quotation being employed
absolves us from the necessity of being extremely
precise in fixing the meaning.
We will paraphrase the verse then as follows :
" Blessed are the gentle, for to them the victory will
ultimately be given " ; while for those who would
prefer a more literal interpretation, the idea of a
victory in this world may be emphasised.
Some such sense as this being admitted, the difficult
question remains, how it comes about that in inter
national relations the principle of a power being
inherent in the absence of self-assertion is apparently

BLESSED ARE THE MEEK 71
ignored, when in individual relations few fail to
perceive its truth ?
It will be felt at once that this question concerning
men in masses is far more complex than any that
refers to them singly. It is obviously true that in war
far nobler qualities are exhibited and on a far more
impressive scale than in conflicts between individuals.
Often indeed patriotic self-sacrifice, as far as the in
dividual is concerned, springs from, and is an example
of, that freedom from self-assertion which our Lord
blesses. And it may be urged that at no time was the
moral tone of Europe lower than during the long
reaches of the Pax Romana during the later years of
the Empire. Nevertheless, it would be a colossal mis
take to attribute to these facts any considerable share
in deciding men's attitude towards the question of war.
In so far as war is upheld as an institution it is because
it is held to be indispensable ; and when the crowning
moment of decision arrives the determining factor is
not the glamour thrown around war by countless
deeds of heroism in the past, but simply the instinct
of national self-assertion.1 The horrors and havoc
occasioned by war must have often decided a Govern
ment on the side of peace ; but the lustre shed around
it by poets and annalists of all ages have an influence
in the other direction so small as to be inappreciable.
A common defence of war is the assertion, that
when an injustice is threatened by one nation against
another there is "no possible tribunal to appeal to
except force. But there is grave reason to doubt the
cogency of this plea. In certain cases, such as in
the rebellions of the subject nations of the Turkish
Empire, it holds good. Foul wrongs are wrought,
and generally there is nothing to be gained by
appealing to outside interference. But in ordinary
1 Plato: Gorgias.

72 THE BEATITUDES
cases of modern wars there is no question of injustice,
but rather there is a commonplace aggression on one
side and retaliation on the other. And the important
point for the present discussion is that when this is
believed to be the case, or, anyhow, affirmed, there is
no such expression of disapproval as generally follows
an instance of individual aggression. The influence of
the Sermon on the Mount can be clearly traced in
one department of life ; while in the other, as to the
common opinion of the right and wrong of making
war, it hardly exists. Nor is it at all easy to see why
progress in one case is so much slower than in the
other. Some light may be shed on the question by a
consideration of the stages intermediate between in
dividual men and nations. There are the family and
the tribe ; and we may perhaps add a third — such a
community as the 7r6\t? or State in ancient Greece. It
is noticeable that self-assertion, always prone to take an
aggressive form, is felt to be less admirable the smaller
the society is which asserts itself. The bitter and
destructive feuds between the little Greek states are
frequently the theme of indictments launched against
the Greek nation as a whole ; and this is not because
it was a case of Greek meeting Greek, but simply be
cause the societies were small. Englishmen do not
hold that the fact of kinship forbids them to admire
the action of the American States in severing their
connexion with the mother-country, regrettable though
the fact may be in its political results. It was plainly
an act of self-assertion, and, being on a large scale, is en
titled to a meed of approval, which, if the community
had been much smaller, would have been withheld.
Similarly the Jews have been arraigned by a brilliant
writer % for their constant tendency to push their claims
1 Professor Goldwin Smith.

BLESSED ARE THE MEEK 73
against those of the Gentiles, being all the time not
really a nation but a tribe. The sting of the accusa
tion lies in the word "tribal." And it would be
admitted, I suppose, that the antagonism roused in us
by the self-assertion of a tribe would be intensified if,
instead of a tribe, we were dealing with a family. The
tone adopted against the Claudii in ancient Rome, or
the Medici in mediaeval Italy, and many others, is not
like the mixed fear and admiration with which the
self-aggrandisement of a nation is regarded. There
are people found, no doubt, to object to the latter as
being simply selfishness on a large scale ; but this
requires far more moral insight and conviction than
to feel the wrongness and folly when smaller groups
of men try to do the same, and still more plainly is
the evil discerned in the case of an individual.
In so far, then, as the size of the mass of men whom
we imagine as self-assertive is felt to be some excuse
for their self-assertion, it probably is for these reasons :
(1) A nation is less united than a tribe or family ;
(2) Such union as exists is of a less personal character
— that is to say, the kinship and community of lan
guage, religion, &c, which hold a nation together is
far more diluted.
Hence two results : (a) The larger the unit which
asserts its own claims, the less of personal self-seeking
and self-assertion is involved in the action of its indi
vidual members ; (b) And the greater the self-suppres
sion in the efforts made by individuals, which efforts
are probably more severe also. In short, the principle
of the text is in reality recognised, though in a con
fused and tentative way, by men's attitude towards
international conflicts. As compared with the quarrels
of smaller groups, big wars stir more intense effort,
and certainly give scope for a far ampler display
of heroism ; but this is less to the purpose than

74 THE BEATITUDES
the fact that they are less tainted with the poison of
individual personal self - exaltation and ambition.
They are free from the odiousness of a single per
sonality, being thrust forward in the face of the
conflicting claims of other personalities. Thus war
is a form of collective self-assertion, which contains
within itself many elements of individual self-suppres
sion, and in this double character it appeals to the
higher and lower instincts of men at the same time,
securing for itself an immense amount of support
thereby. No one could distinguish clearly the various
currents of feeling and motive which impel a nation
towards a particular war. To judge by men's utter
ances, the most unabashed spirit of self-aggrandise
ment is in many quarters rampant, but the feebleness
of the opposition offered to this spirit is due probably
to the recognition of the directness with which war
invokes our belief in the great principle that progress
in this world is won through antagonisms and con
flicts of one kind or another, and that victory belongs
to the side which thinks least of self. We find it
impossible to condemn altogether a mighty effort of
collective self-assertion, because it depends for its
very success on the completeness of individual self-
sacrifice. Meantime we mark the symptoms of the higher
principle gaining ground over the lower, a most
impressive witness to the power of the Sermon on the
Mount. Once, and not long ago, the English people
in their strivings for self-assertion were content to
fling their young men into the jaws of death, utterly
heedless of what happened to the wounded, and in
the Peninsular and Crimean Wars, for instance, care
less of their terrible privations. They thought of little
but the sheer conflict. Nowadays self-assertion is
tempered by the humanitarian spirit which imperils

THEY THAT HUNGER AND THIRST 75
the success of our national self-assertion by weaken
ing the injury we inflict on our adversaries. Every
provision made for the tending of the enemy's
wounded is so much more homage paid to the
maxim, " Blessed are the meek : for they shall in
herit the earth."

"THEY THAT HUNGER AND THIRST"
v. 6
At first hearing this is felt to be a great consolatory
saying ; it seems to be a benediction on those who
wish to be good, irrespective of their being successful.
It is to be noted, however, that if we divide human
life into two main departments, thought and action,
these words exalt the former and ignore the latter ;
and yet to a great majority of those who live in
Western Europe action is far more congenial than
thought. And this is true even if we take " thought,"
in a very broad sense indeed, to include what the text
speaks of — a state of feeling. Most people would
prefer to be judged by their actions rather than by
their feelings. So the text, is not a pronouncement in
favour of that which comes easiest to ordinary men.
And this view of it is confirmed if we reflect on the
New Testament teaching about righteousness. There
is nothing more startling in Christ's teaching than the
stress which He lays on warnings against counter
feit goodness compared to those against distinct un
deniable transgression of the moral law. And we have
gathered gradually from these warnings the existence of
two chief counterfeits of goodness or righteousness, one
of which is inveighed against in this very Sermon with
great emphasis ; the other with less. One is a coarse
caricature of goodness, and consists in the pursuit of
a certain line of conduct for the sake of the applause

76 THE BEATITUDES
of men. But, coarse enough though the caricature is,
this motive of recognition or approval is so common
that, like other travesties of the principle of the Beati
tudes, it is universally assumed in ordinary life to be
the dominant motive till at last some proof is forth
coming that it is no such thing ; and then indignation
gives place to wonder, and wonder to praise. The
other is a far more subtle caricature. It is the devo
tion of time and trouble to communion with God
and to the observance of His ordinances in the hope
of gaining tranquillity of spirit, as we think we have
seen others do before us. It may easily be the case
that a young man in his time of youth tries to catch
the prize by attempting the first of these two, and then
as life goes on and failure dogs his footsteps, he may
hope to still the fretful disappointments of his heart
by appealing to God. The first is a form of securing
gratification for self from men, the second from God ;
and if we feel that in the first there is an outrage done
to the name of goodness, in the second we ought to
feel there is a direct profanation as well. We shall
come across many warnings against vulgar ambition,
but it seems at first as if our Lord mostly passed over
the selfishness of a certain kind of appeal to the Divine
Being. The warnings are far more scattered, it is true ;
but they are compressed into the framework of the
Lord's Prayer ; they are enforced in the parable of the
Labourers in the Vineyard — a warning against the
spirit of bargaining ; but perhaps more distinctly than
in any other way our Lord teaches this lesson by the
appeal which has ever found a way straight to the
heart of humanity — the appeal to the example of a
little child.
This most suggestive illustration helps us in re
gard to the subtle temptation of trying to love God
for the sake of a spiritual return. A child at his

THEY THAT HUNGER AND THIRST 77
best has no thought of self-gratification in doing
what his parents wish. He finds a joy, of course, in
conformity with his father's will, just as he feels a
gladness in the sunlight without knowing why. We
feel that the health of the child-like nature shows
itself in its unconscious gladness in the best things of
life, the beauty of the visible world and reciprocity of
affection. But if this gladness became rational and
deliberate, we should at once perceive that it had lost
its healthfulness ; and if it became a motive for action
it would be to us a monstrosity. So in the sight of
the angels must their lives be in whom age has worn
away the child-like spirit; and who, after fruitless
strivings after the recognition of their fellow-men, set
themselves to secure peace of mind by loving God.
This is not health, but disease. We see it plainly
sometimes in a coarser form, when vigorous philan
thropic effort is undertaken for selfish ends. Again
we recognise it in the pathetic caricature of the kindly
spirit when all kinds of bounty, friendliness, hospi
tality, and so forth, are shown at length to be merely
the outcome of a craving for sympathy, or the desire
for lightening the weariness of a chilled and im
poverished life. And when all this fails, there may
easily operate in the disappointed soul a wish to buy
peace by turning to God as a last resource. This may
show itself in various kinds of religious devotion and
active benevolence, but it has nothing to do with the
righteousness spoken of by Christ, because its centre
is self, not God.
A great deal more might be said to show the depth
and difficulty of the idea of righteousness here in
dicated. The difficulty is, of course, only apparent
to those who have lost their simplicity; but this
comprises a vast majority of the human race, to
whom it seems as if development depends chiefly

78 THE BEATITUDES
on their passing through a sickly stage of subjec
tion to self, prolonged often till the time comes that
the hopelessly unsatisfying slavery of the condition
makes itself felt, and the immense breadth of the gulf
between selfishness and unselfishness becomes ap
parent to the mind and soul. It is not uncommon in
the time of youth for the growth of the simple idea
of personality to pass into this feeling of being under
a self-dominion, when it seems as if all effort, all
virtue, all aspiration, must be for ever tainted with more
or less of the self-disease, the egoism of adolescence.
Then, it may be, the soul is ready to respond to the rich
balm of the divine consolation, " Blessed are they that
hunger and thirst after righteousness : for they shall
be filled." The wondrous promise is addressed directly
to souls thus afflicted ; to whom the realisation of a
pure righteousness seems a half-forgotten dream.
It is worth remarking that, in view of troubles such
as these, the attenuated idea of the Deity as merely an
enforcer of laws, or more particularly the deification
of duty as a guide of life, is miserably inadequate.
The only cure for egoism, whatever be its manifesta
tions, is literally a self-surrender. And a surrender of
self to a law is impossible without unconsciously per
sonifying the law ; but when this is done the idea
formed of the law approximates to that of the God of
Christianity. Yet frequently those who have formed
such an idea of God persuade themselves that the pure
and lofty conception ' of a Personal God is impossible
and unnecessary. If this text were more often taken
to heart, we should hear less of a religion of duty.
One or two interesting questions remain. "They
are those who will be filled " is the literal rendering
of the Greek. There is something of exclusiveness
about this promise ; an implication, if nothing more,
that outside the class spoken of none will be filled.

THEY THAT HUNGER AND THIRST 79
We must recognise, however, that our Lord's general
practice is to indicate a class of receivers of grace,
and keep silence as to "those without." This practice
enjoins great caution in drawing inferences as to the
lot of the wicked. But we may notice how startlingly
different is His method of teaching this subject from
that into which hasty statements of evolutionary
doctrine may lead us. As soon as we feel the fascina
tion of the idea that sin is a stage in development, or
that God cannot have created numberless beings to be
eternally testimonies to the failure of grace, we are
very likely to blur the distinction Christ draws be
tween those who are satisfying a fundamental condi
tion and those who are not ; as if mankind could be
viewed as part of a vast scheme of things which must
finally issue in the best, whether individuals help on
the process or not. Nobody can doubt the paralysing
influence of some such belief at the present day. But
the text bids us turn our attention to another aspect
of the great problem, and we may be sure that our
Lord does not guide us to any such unprofitable
speculations as many of us seem to love, but bids us
intently ponder on the fact that the blessing is at
tached to a condition ; that the condition is within
our power to fulfil, since it is not any great achieve
ment in philanthropy, nor any dazzling success in
converting souls to Christ, nor, primarily, any devo
tion of intellectual or other powers to His service,
but merely a craving. And yet it is a craving which
many seem only too able to quench. Thus it would
be a mistake to let our discernment of the unspeakable
graciousness of this saying blind us to its severity.
Again, a question may be raised whether the tone
of the saying does not, to some extent, encourage the
discontented frame of mind. It is undoubtedly our
duty to have regard to the prevailing instinct of good

80 THE BEATITUDES
men, and we shall not be easy as to our view of these
words if we interpret them as favouring the temper
which is always finding fault, or if we have any suspicion
that it countenances this bad quality. But it is only
necessary to remember that discontentment is a habit
of marking what is done amiss by others, or by oneself,
or what is amiss in our surroundings, and making a
grievance of it. This is sharply to be distinguished
from the "divine discontent," which forbids us to
acquiesce in evil, or even in imperfection, but constrains
us to spare no effort after improvement. Moreover,
the very righteousness towards which we yearn is
noted for one great characteristic. It discerns the
nobleness of all honest imperfect endeavour ; it feels
the jUSveableness of soiled and stunted characters;
and\believes in boundless ^possibilities after a whole
history of woeful collapsev Nor, again, does it ever
issue in what is called " morbid self-depreciation "
any more than in a fatuous conceit. Both spring
from the self-centred spirit ; but the self-surrender of
Christian righteousness, in so far as it is genuine, is
very humble, but full of self-respect, which is born
of the consciousness of the work of grace going on
within. "For They Shall Be Filled"
When ? The promise is certainly not limited to
the life hereafter. Readers of St. Paul's Epistles,
and many another outpouring of a Christian soul,
will have learnt that while grace may be conceived
of as a guiding or an uplifting power, giving light, or
bravery, or self-command, the figure here employed
is the truest. Grace is a nourishment, and the rich
ness of its sustaining quality is determined by one
thing alone — the genuineness of our desire. And the
promise which is attached to a desire is a promise
given to us while on earth,

BLESSED ARE THE MERCIFUL 81
"BLESSED ARE THE MERCIFUL"
v. 7
The word " merciful " may be taken to include in
its sense some of the idea of compassion and some
thing of readiness to forgive. It would be difficult to
define at all clearly how much of one notion or the
other properly belongs to the word as used by Christ.
But there is reason for thinking that no such definition
is necessary for a fruitful interpretation of the text ;
and we may, at any rate, leave the question in abey
ance for the moment and turn to the most striking
thing in the saying, which is the use of the future
tense in the promise, " they shall obtain mercy."
For the truth is, we cannot free our minds from
the lesson, taught by one of our Lord's most vivid
parables, concerning the duty of showing mercy to
our fellow-men as depending on God's readiness to
forgive, viz., the parable of the Unmerciful Servant ;
and what we there find is, that the cruelty of one man
to another is brought out in its most odious light be
cause the guilty man had already received mercy from
God. In other words, the priority in time of the
Divine gift of forgiveness is made the ground of the
guilt of the unforgiving spirit manifested in a human
relation. But in this text the order is apparently re
versed. Are we not here encouraged to be merciful
first, that we may receive mercy afterwards ?
It is of little use to set this difficulty aside by saying
that God is above time, and that it is easy to fall into
error by conceiving of His actions chronologically. The
matter in question is of man acting and of man receiving
forgiveness, and we cannot conceive of the two things
except chronologically ; they both enter, so to speak,
into the sphere of time, and it is idle to take refuge in
transcendentalism when the difficulty is entirely one

82 THE BEATITUDES
of sequence of events as we conceive of sequence.
It would be no less absurd than if, for instance, we '
were to argue that it makes no difference to our
idea of punishment whether it is prior or subsequent
to transgression.
The difficulty begins to disappear when we bear in
mind that forgiveness is not ordinarily a single act,
but a gradual renewal of a relation between two parties
which has been disturbed or broken. This would
probably be true of all instances of human forgiveness ;
it is certainly true of man's realisation of the Divine
forgiveness, which is not merely a cancelling of the past
but an imparting of life and strength for the future.
This is taught most vividly by our Lord's utterance
on the occasion of His raising the paralytic man at
Capernaum. "That ye may know that the Son of
Man hath power on earth to forgive sins, He saith to
the sick of the palsy, Rise, take up thy bed and walk."
What is here insisted on is a parallel or analogy be
tween the spiritual and physical worlds ; that is to say,
the miracle performed on the suffering body was a
restoration of decadent physical life ; and similarly
forgiveness, if, as our Lord says, it is illustrated by the
physical miracle, must be conceived of as a restoration
of decadent spiritual life. The story of this miracle is
most important in its bearing on the question suggested
by our text. There are many other aspects of the
subject which it illuminates, but, so far, there can be
little doubt that the inevitably visible character of the
exercise of one restorative act was to be taken as a proof
that the claim to have acted restoratively in the in
evitably invisible spiritual world was not a sham ; and
this argument assumes that there is a close similarity
between the two operations of the Divine power (except
in point of visibility) ; in other words, the forgiveness
spoken of was a restoration of spiritual life.

BLESSED ARE THE MERCIFUL 83
And if it is this, there is no sort of reason why it
should not present to our experience all the signs of
a gradual process. Indeed, in very many cases it cer
tainly does. And we may add that there is a further
characteristic of this forgiveness or restoration ; to
our consciousness it continually seems to be only
beginning, and this symptom, which logically might
be represented as a sign of the unreality of the pro
cess, is to the consciousness the very reverse. It is
like the pulsations of growing light in a brilliant dawn
before the actual sunrise, which increase the radiance
throughout the heaven so suddenly and effectively
that the previous stage seems as if it had been
nothing. Forgiveness is conceived of as a thing received.
Supposing, then, that the richness of this gift depends,
as in other cases, on our capacity of receptivity, and
that that capacity, through the conquest of some
difficulty, or the bearing of some suffering, or the facing
of some spiritual temptation, were enlarged, we should
expect the resulting experience to be like a fresh start
in receiving, and this is what occurs. There is nothing
to be gained in the present context by trying to
analyse this further, but, so far, we may say that the
showing of mercy to our fellow-men is blessed because
it involves the enlarging of our own capacity for
receiving more and more of God's infinite mercy;
and this receiving is a process which to our con
sciousness seems so like a series of new beginnings
that our Lord here speaks of it as a future occur
rence, as if something identical, or at least similar,
had not happened before. Thus the Parable and
the Beatitude have to be balanced, the one against
the other : and much instruction might be gained
from the comparison.
So far we have been treating of forgiveness rather

84 THE BEATITUDES
than compassion. The latter expresses simply the
feeling of a tender heart when brought into the
presence of another's suffering, or disability, or aber
ration, or disease. Granted enough tender-heartedness,
and the feeling of compassion would arise at the pre
sentation of any of these in all their various manifes
tations. And supposing A has been injured by B, in
whom malignancy of spirit has been evoked by some
delusion ; yet A's compassionateness might be so
active that he, disregarding altogether the personal
element, as we call it — that is, the wrong done to
himself — would consider simply the claim on his pity
of a fellow-creature carried away by spite, or blind
folly, or vanity. The feeling of pity would then be so
strong and so genuine as to prevent in B the stings of
wounded pride being felt at all ; and A, acting spon
taneously and naturally on this feeling, would do and
say exactly those things most likely to bring calm to
the angry turbid spirit of his fellow-man or guidance
to his waywardness, while leaving his malignity with
out any stimulus of irritation whatever. This is the
triumph of compassion ; the natural manifestation of
love in the presence of sin's disorder ; and we notice
that among men any such manifestation means a great
self-conquest, a crushing down of the hot desire for
self-assertion, or of such vindictiveness as social con
vention allows ; and in self-conquest we find the
surest hope of our capacity for reception of grace
being enlarged.
Thus, gathering up the two notions of the gradual
restorative action of the Divine compassion, together
with that of the broadening, bracing influence
of the exercise of forbearance towards our fellow-
men, or rather of the active manifestation of love
towards their manifold needs, we may paraphrase
the Beatitude thus : Blessed are those who by self-

BLESSED ARE THE MERCIFUL 85
conquest and self-forgetfulness are enabled to show
loving-kindness to their fellows (in spite of the
most varied provocation, scorn, neglect, slander,
suspicion, wanton and flagitious outrage, or the
pettiest of small private indignities), for so their
capacity for receiving the Divine love, which must
manifest itself as compassion and forgiveness, will
be enlarged.
It may be objected that in this exposition too much
depends on kindness being shown after provocation,
and that mercifulness is thus made almost equivalent
to forgiveness, whereas it ought to include quite as
much, and perhaps a great deal more, of the element
of simple compassion, irrespective of provocation.
This last contention may be admitted. But, as has
been implied, the central meaning of the verse is not
materially modified. The problem is to trace the con
nexion between the exercise of either compassion or
forgiveness, and the enlarging of our capacity for
receiving a corresponding spiritual gift from God ;
and we find that this result is to be expected from
the exercise of mercifulness in whichever of the two
senses it may be understood. But there is this differ
ence : compassion, pure and simple, may end in merely
feeling something in presence of suffering, and, as has
often been remarked, the indulgence of emotions which
leads to no form of active self-sacrifice weakens the
moral fibre and blesses neither the subject nor the
object of the emotion. Self-sacrifice is inherent in the
very notion of forgiveness, while — as to compassion —
the sight of the distress of others, or of their perplexi
ties, or even their gradual collapse, may waken at first
a lively compassion, which subsequently degenerates
into little more than a languid interest in something
which for a short while varies the monotony of life,
as in the case of those who once sat down on the hill

86 THE BEATITUDES
of Calvary and "watched Him there," men content
to be spectators of life's tragedies. It may be that
constant reading of harrowing narratives, or watching
of tragic pieces on the stage, has some effect of this
kind. In any case, there is no doubt that those of us
who are easily moved to a lively compassion by the
knowledge of another's suffering, have to reckon with
the absolute necessity of some kind of self-conquest,
in respect even of this very feeling, if we are to share
in any way in the promise uttered by the Lord, and
open our hearts to receive His mercy. And in this
connexion self-conquest includes lavish expenditure
of trouble in the giving of help, whether we give in
the form of money, time, or energy. We have to
inquire into facts, to control impulses to hasty and
unwise giving, to forbear from squandering the
emotion of pity over too wide an area, and from
so missing all the strength of concentration and
accurate knowledge. No warmth of feeling, how
ever sustained, can give a dispensation from the
lesson of the Cross.
"THE PURE IN HEART"
v. 8
Many true and edifying things have been said on
the assumption that the quality here spoken of — purity
of heart — means freedom from impurity in the narrow
modern sense of the word — in short, freedom from
lust. But as soon as this is stated, it is felt to be not
only inadequate but misleading. The Beatitudes are
wonderfully broad as well as deep in their range
of meaning. There is not one which does not apply
to all kinds of characters without exception, since
they express different aspects of perfection, an ideal
towards which the most lofty characters among

THE PURE IN HEART 87
mankind can only be regarded as gradually tending.
But this characteristic would be flatly contradicted if
this particular statement were as restricted in scope
as it is often made to appear ; that is to say, it is as
certain as anything of the kind can be that many
individuals enjoy an almost complete immunity from
temptations of the flesh in the narrow sense, "t^ is
quite possible for men to be too far gone in slavery
to personal ambition or to the spirit of gambling to
be the slaves of lust as well. And to suppose that
such are referred to in the promise would be a pro
fanation. Also, even among persons of thoroughly
respectable conduct, there are many who might be
in this narrow sense truly described as pure in heart,
and who yet may be obstinately refusing to set them
selves against other temptations than coarseness, such
as indolence, coldness or contempt of others, refined
selfishness and the like, and so making no apparent
effort to rise above the conventional ideal. The truth
is that if a glorious promise were attached to what we
call a negative quality, mere freedom from a vice, it
would be a most bewildering utterance, hopelessly
inapplicable in its plain sense to the facts of life as
we know them, and unlike the other Beatitudes which
are clearly positive in character.
It remains therefore to accept the meaning of the
Greek word, as ordinarily used by classical writers,
unmixed with alien elements, hence single or simple ,
in heart. What is meant by simplicity ? The first
and most important answer to be made is that it is
a quality that baffles analysis, because it is simple and
not complex ; there is no disentangling of divers
threads possible or reconciliation of opposites. We
sometimes say of such characters that they are dis
tinguished by a grand simplicity, and beyond that we
cannot go. But there are certain symptoms worth

88 THE BEATITUDES
noting of this rare and excellent quality. There
must be a point of contact between it and the
simpleness which stands for a kind of folly ; and
it is easy to see that it lies in the negative quality
of guilelessness, the absence of any consciousness
of a motive behind action which is not professed
and open. This guilelessness, being natural and spon
taneous, is very likely to misconstrue the mixed
motives which play a large part among mankind in
the practical affairs of life, and to be somewhat at the
mercy of intrigue and selfishness and hence ignorant
of facts, the knowledge of which is necessary unless
endeavour is to be seriously crippled. It is the prolon
gation of the childish, as distinguished from the child
like spirit, into manhood ; and though there is some
thing very near akin to what is admirable and forceful
in it, and to the strength which unselfishness alone can
exercise, yet our Lord in His well-known saying, " Be
ye wise as serpents and harmless as doves," emphati
cally confirms the view that the ignorance of ordinarily
accepted notions and principles of conduct which we
call simpleness is a disability, and against it His
servants must be on their guard. None the less it is
true, that the total absence of self-interest, of even
being interested in self, is a great source of strength,
since men are to be led when they find they are not
suspected.1 The best symptom of simplicity, however, is the
freedom from what St. James calls double-mindedness,
Siyfrvxla1\^n two of his dialogues Plato speaks of a
certain principle of conduct as essential to the highest
life, and he calls it ol/ceioTrpayla, or the doing of that
which is naturally the fitting thing for the individual
to do, that for which nature intended him, as we saytl
And when we reflect on the prevalence of a certain
1 Cf. carefully, St. John ii. 25.

THE PURE IN HEART 89
distraction in men's lives, the being drawn asunder
after divergent ideals, we can agree with the Greek in
his high estimate of this characteristic of simplicity.
There belongs to it the thoroughly satisfying and
permanently interesting quality which we speak of as
individuality — a man's being "always himself ." <^(\
Other tokens of purity of heart or simplicity might
be enumerated.^What we call a simple life generally
means a life satisfied with few material goods, content
to do without two of such where one is sufficient ; and
the notion is reinforced by the fact that such a way
of living leaves the spirit free to strive upwards,
because the spell of a merely worldly existence is
weakened, and the pursuit of the single highest ideal
made easier.
This suffices to show in what sense the expression
" pure in heart " may be taken. But when we come
to the second part of the Beatitude, which promises to
all who are thus designated the reward of the Divine
vision, a serious difficulty is at once felt. Briefly it is
this : Whereas in all the other Beatitudes the human
beings described are those who work together with
God in the active exercise of some supreme virtue,
humility, mercy, yearning for goodness, and so forth,
are we not thinking of what in this quality of sim
plicity is distinctly a Divine gift, a natural grace, as
we call it ? Is it not, moreover, one towards which
any striving would be fatal to acquirement ? for who
ever succeeded in being simple by hard effort ? "(Mf
this be so, we seem to have in the other Beatitudes
promises held out to those who co-operate with
God in working out their own salvation, but in
this one a promise of peculiar richness held out
to those who are simply the recipients of a peculiar
endowment. Clearly, we touch here on a subject in which definite

90 THE BEATITUDES
precision is not to be expected. We cannot know
why some men seem to inherit qualities which bring
happiness with them, while others are weighted with
a disposition which prevents them either from under
standing their fellow-men, or from the feeling of being
upheld by communion with God ; and in many cases
there is much of reward apparently attached to con
ditions of birth, not to those of attainment. This is
part of the mystery of the relation of the finite to the
infinite (Westcott). But in respect of the quality of
simplicity the difficulty is lessened by the fact that
attainment, though not the result of what we ordinarily
call effort, yet is evidently a possibility. People not
very unfrequently grow in this grace as in others.
The subtle prevailing taint of egoism dies slowly
away under some unseen gentle influence which no
Christian can think of as other than the operation of
the Holy Spirit. It would be a poor and flat state of
things if mortal insight could explain this. Enough
for us the fact that the very achievement which
seemed in the nature of things to be hopelessly
impossible is not so. The soul which was worried
and weakened by introspection and yearning after an
empty phantom of vain glory finds its centre else
where, and, while ceasing to struggle after simplicity,
receives it ; much as all deep happiness is only given
as an accompaniment of effort, not as its first object.
And if it is asked what sort of life do we find to be
thus enriched, the answer is the life of prayer.
But we cannot leave the solemn and gracious words
without a closer consideration of the promise, " Shall
see God." The first inclination of a restless and
materialistic generation is to hold this promise cheap,
as if it held out an unsubstantial boon, unsuited to
the rough antagonisms of the world. Is it what we
want ? Is it not the reward of a purely contemplative

THE PURE IN HEART 91
life, the hope of a mystic, alien to the mind of a busy
practical Englishman ? Perhaps we may concede
that this promise is concerned rather more directly
with the next world than the other Beatitudes are.
But we are bound to see its fulfilment in this world
if we can, and there will be no difficulty in doing so
if we do not narrow our conception of God. First
there is the intellectual side to the promise. God is
the Truth, and the seeing of God is not only the satis
faction of what we call religious aspiration, but the
illumination of the mind by the Divine light. It is
easy for us to fall into a way of crudely classifying the
desires of our nature into religious, intellectual and
physical appetites, as if there were some incompati
bility between the three departments of life. But how
frequently Christ insists on the knowledge of God
being an illumination of the intellect ! and if we bear
in mind the immense amount of intellectual hunger
prevailing among the foremost nations of the earth,
and the unquiet restlessness often due to its not being
satisfied, we shall cease to imagine that there is any
thing in this promise alien to our ordinary needs.
No one can gauge the impoverishment of our com
munity life which results from failure to set the
intellectual and religious aspirations of mankind in
close relation to each other ; nor is there anything
more worthy of admiration than the harmonious
blending of the two, the working of the conviction
based on our Lord's saying, " I am the Truth." It
is seen when progress in what we call science,
instead of being wildly ascribed to the powers of
human intellect exercised independently of God, is
felt to be the gradual reception of a living spiritual
strength, increasing not in proportion to the arrogant
self-satisfaction of a mind conscious of its own power,
but according as the knowledge of the Divine is

92 THE BEATITUDES
received with all humility as an unlooked-for and
unmerited blessing.
And if this fundamental belief were more securely
held, we should not be perplexed by the phenomenon
of characters to which a clear revelation of goodness
has been given without apparently any sense of a per
sonal relation to God. These are generally looked on
as irreligious but moral characters ; but yet who can
doubt that they, too, are recipients of the promise of
this Beatitude ? They are in a position to go for
ward in the nearer apprehension of the vision of God,
though the inward rapture may be for them reserved
till after death. Their temptation is to set up an
antagonism between themselves and other recipients
of God's bounty, who are allowed to feel more dis
tinctly the touch of personal contact ; and this temp
tation is often increased by religious people harshly
insisting that where the personal sense is wanting no
vision of God has been vouchsafed. Rather we may
avoid crude classification, but recognise that, though
there is evidence of defect in such cases, yet every
thing points to this particular condition being simply
a stage in growth.

THE PEACEMAKERS v. 9
Before we can be assured of the deep truth con
tained in this saying, it will be well to notice that, if
it stood in the New Testament as the solitary pro
nouncement on the subject of Peace, we should
certainly feel that it failed to explain some of our
fundamental instincts concerning the place of struggle
and discord in the higher life of mankind. It is, of
course, easy to look abroad on the world and con
template the unending havoc and misery caused by

THE PEACEMAKERS 93
divisions and strife, as well as the crippling of much
honest effort caused by petty jealousies, and then to
sigh for the advent of peace on earth and good-will
among men ; but nevertheless, when we have secured
peace, we are sooner or later bound to admit that it
has not turned out such a blessing as was expected.
It has been found to lack certain bracing, purging
influences, which are given only by the stress and
disquiet inseparable from a state of discord. The first
subject, therefore, which the words suggest is the
relation in which the two ideas stand to each other in
the New Testament — peace and disunion.
We are reminded at once of the famous words,
" Suppose ye that I am come to give peace on earth ?
I tell you, nay, but rather division." Christ is plainly
correcting here a misconception prevalent about the
Messiah, that He was coming to inaugurate an era
of peace for all mankind. But we may suppose
that if the craving for peace is sanctioned, as it cer
tainly is in our text and elsewhere, then division may
be looked on as a preparatory stage, necessary if the
subsequent peace is to be stable. This would mean
that while strife is the outcome of sin and wrongheaded-
ness, division or disunion may be thought of as a stage
in development, a mark of imperfection but also of
progress. It is true that in Matt. x. 34 our Lord em
phasises the fact, that the result of His coming is to
bring not only division but strife ; but this need not
be taken as a sanctioning of strife, as if it were an
innocent thing, any more than the saying, " It must
needs be that offences come." Indeed, in the passage
in St. Luke there is a very striking reminder of the
description of the Day of Pentecost. In that account
(Acts ii. 3) we are told that "there appeared unto them
tongues parting asunder (SiafiepityfjLevat,) like as of fire."
In the Gospel (Luke xii. 49) our Lord, just before

94 THE BEATITUDES
prophesying division (Scafiepio-/j.o<}) as the result of His
coming, was speaking of casting fire on the earth.1
Similarly, as we saw on p. 71, the national spirit
involving conflict and disunion is apparently recog
nised by Christianity as a necessary stage in the
life of humanity, and yet one through which we are
bound to pray that we may speedily pass. The
subject cannot be fathomed. It is part of the mystery
of evil and its place in the development of good in
the world, and here Christ sanctions that aspiration,
whereby we crave for a state of being in which
craving will have ceased.
Now if peace may be thought of as an end to which
we aspire, later in time than the discord through
which we are passing, we gain some light on the
meaning of two important texts which help to give us
the New Testament idea of peace : James iii. 17, " The'
wisdom which is from above is first pure, then peace
able " — that is to say, pure by separation from defile
ment, as in a stage preliminary to that of peaceableness,
which is characterised not by separation but by union.
This is as if the heavenly wisdom, when lodged among
men, had to pass through a preparation by being sepa
rated off from the world before beginning its work of re
conciling and blending unharmonious elements. One
is reminded of Christ's thirty years of growth, away
from the world in Nazareth, preparatory to the work
of the ministry — the reconciling or atonement of
the world to God.2 And among ourselves many a
noble adult character, in whom we recognise the
power of the peacemaker, has had to pass through a
long period of something like separation, pure and
inactive, during which it would have been fatally
1 Alford in loc.
2 Mayor on James iii. 17. Cf. also Psalm lxxxv. 10 ; Isaiah xxxii. 17 ;
xxvi. 3.

THE PEACEMAKERS 95
foolish to call upon it to exercise the strength of
maturity, the wonderful gift of reconciling the warring
elements of human life. Moreover, the text hints at
a relation, plainly indicated elsewhere, between truth
(given by the heavenly wisdom) ani*rjeace. Compare
St. Paul's words : Romans viii. op.*' The mind of the
spirit is life and peace " ; that is, the state of intel
lectual repose consequent on a recognition of harmony
underlying contradictions in thought.
The other important text is 1 Peter i. 22, which
confirms the double view of peace given by St. James :
" Seeing ye have purified your souls in your obedience
to the truth unto unfeigned love of the brethren, love
one another from the heart fervently." Here the apostle
reminds his readers that they have passed through
the preliminary stage of separation from defilement,
and have reached the point at which they are called
upon, not only to be at peace but to make peacer1
" Purified unto unfeigned love," passing on to the
manifestation of the peace within them, so as to be
agents of reconciliation in the world, and this with
out the slightest want of sincerity, growing in a love
for others, which is free from all taint of self-interest.
But he emphasises, more clearly than St. Paul in
Romans viii., that the power which had brought about
in them this change may be described from their side,
so to speak, as " obedience to the truth!" They were
in his view people with sound notions about God,
which had been honestly acted on in their lives ;
they had not been " disobedient unto the heavenly
vision." We need not go further to be satisfied as to this
much of Scriptural doctrine concerning peace. It is
a quality in human life brought to maturity by the
separation from defilement, which depends on obedi
ence to the highest law revealed to us ; and when it

96 THE BEATITUDES
reaches^ maturity it becomes active in its effect on
others ;i\he soul first becomes peaceable, then a maker
of peace. And it is plain that great emphasis is laid
on that aspect of peace which we think of as intellec
tual. The connexion between truth and peace indi
cates a freedom from restlessness of thought and from
the disquiet arising from contradictory and confused
ideas. Other aspects of peace may be^easily seen in
the hints given in the New Testament 'iyand we might
define it roughly as the effect of God's nearness to an
untroubled conscience, producing the sense of for
giveness, of moral tranquillity, of- jealousies overcome,
and of intellectual consistency'/^It is then worth re
marking that there is for once a traceable sequence in
the order of the Beatitudes. The text preceding this
one states the blessing promised to the pure in heart ;
and though the Greek word is not the same as that
which speaks distinctly of separation from defilement,
yet it is a striking illustration of the Scriptural idea of
peace, that just before the blessing promised to the
peacemakers should come the one promised to the
single-hearted or pure'.v>
And the difference in the exact promises deserves
attention. If we take St. Peter's pregnant words as
our guide, we shall be prepared to find that if Matt. v. 8
denotes the stage of innocence preliminary to maturity,
" obedience to the truth " has been the secret of
healthy, quiet growth, and that the reward attached to
this obedience is with perfect appropriateness described
as " seeing God " — that is to say, the unclouded vision
of the Truth itself is the reward of those who have
grown in obedience to the broken lights vouchsafed
to them in this life. But when our Lord touches on
the matured peace-making power, which is like the
mental energy of an adult compared to the quiet
growth of a guileless youth, then how different the

THE PEACEMAKERS 97
promise : " They shall be called the sons of God."
This phrase now requires our attention.
"^fyrhe fact is that the power of " making peace " is so
wonderful a thing that we see in it something almost
of a creative endowment. We defined peace as the
sense of God's nearness to an untroubled conscience.
But the peacemaker is one who gives or encourages
that sense to a troubled conscience by showing how
reconciliation with God may be won, or to a harassed
intellect by revealing the infinite satisfaction to the
reason of men which revelation gives ; or to the
proud sensitive spirit smarting under a sense of wrong
and hot with a vindictive flame, by bringing home to
the inmost thoughts the ineffable graciousness of
the Saviour's work of forgiveness and love for all
sinners, till the hard scornful temper yields to the
spell of the Spirit of God. And so in many other
ways to a few rarely endowed human beings is it
permitted to bring into a brother's soul that which
can only be described as the sense of the indwelling
Holy Spirit. And is not that something of a creative
act ? Does it not lift the agent on to a level so lofty
as to remind us of the plane on which the Lord
Himself worked in bringing the Divine down into
the depths of human life ?
For in very truth there is in the power of recon
cilement, or bringing harmony among the turbid
restless elements of human life, that which baffles
all analysis, and leaves ordinary men amazed and
humiliated, but thankful that God has "given such
power unto men."
" Sons of God." Professor Dalman insists (in con
nexion with Matt. xi. 27) that this title points to an
exclusive committal to Jesus of a revelation to be
made to man. " He who stands in so uniquely close
a relation to God is the only possible mediator of the
G

98 THE BEATITUDES
kind."1 Elsewhere2 in commenting on Matt. xiii.
28, he says : " In this case the sons are those who have
in themselves the nature of the father." It has also
been pointed out by others that this word for " son "
differs from that of "child" by expressing not so
much the community of nature as participation in
status, dignity and power^v This idea is perfectly
appropriate to the explanation of the word " peace
maker " given above.
THE PERSECUTED v. 10
The last benediction gave us a glimpse of man at
his highest, triumphing by sheer spiritual power over
the forces of disorder and confusion which work
perplexity within and suffering without. Here how
different is the picture ! No quality is spoken of ;
no power, no effectiveness or success. Man is re
garded simply as the victim of others' cruelty. He
is not described as in any way active, but as the
passive recipient of an absolutely undeserved hostility;
as a sufferer of wrongs, not only while he behaves
righteously, but because of his righteousness, and in a
plight which ordinarily excites nothing but the deepest
commiseration. For we must give the word per
secution its full meaning. As we " sit at home at
ease," thinking or reading about the onslaughts which
some group of our fellow-creatures have made on
their brethren, the savage injustice, the ruthless
violence, and horrible malignity which have been
shown, or when we picture to ourselves the heroism
of a Polycarp, or a Blandina, or countless others, we
are strongly tempted to invest the facts with an unreal
1 " The Words of Jesus," p. 283. English translation, 1902,
'Ibid., p. 115.

THE PERSECUTED 99
glamour, as if heroism were always upborne by a
sense of its own greatness ; and so we enormously
underrate the acuteness of the suffering, its dismal
ignominy and blank desolation. A sustained effort
of imagination is required to bring us anywhere near
a realisation of the truth, and in these words of the
Saviour the expression " for righteousness' sake "
implies that, in addition to the suffering and loss
inflicted on the victim of persecution, we have to
suppose a burning sense of injustice to be added,
the sense of love scorned, of high ideals grossly
misunderstood, of overtures to peace construed as
provocation. The thought of all this enables us to
feel the greatness of this last paradox in the Beati
tudes, " Blessed are they that have been persecuted."
It should be noticed that alone among these great
sentences this one speaks in the perfect tense, " have
been persecuted," and that the reward is in the pre
sent tense instead of the future, in this respect recalling
the first Beatitude, which it resembles in other ways.
With regard to the perfect tense a superficial inter
pretation would suggest that our Lord refrained from
speaking of persecution as a blessed thing to endure,
but only to have endured, as if it were beyond the
power of humanity to discern the blessedness while the
hour of suffering lasted. But this would be contrary
to the drift of all the pronouncements. It is incon
ceivable that Christ should exclude any department
of life from His benediction. Rather we may say
that the effects of this particular form of suffering are
not appreciable till after it is over, since it is not a
question simply of heroic endurance, but of a certain
temper fostered by suffering and the infliction of
wrong. Therefore we have to give our attention not
to the martyr standing at the stake with his eyes
raised to heaven while the flames begin to curl around

ioo THE BEATITUDES
his limbs, but rather to some obscure follower of
Christ who finds himself after a buffeting storm of
hostility deprived of the good things of life— home,
comforts, family perhaps, and means of livelihood —
by the malignity of others, and all because he had been
constant to his principles and loyal in his devotion to
the service of his Master ; and, moreover, had never
failed to show even to his enemies all due consideration
and brotherly love ; since by some dire perversity of
spirit they had found in this very friendliness and
forbearance which he showed nothing but an incite
ment to further hatred. This picture corresponds
exactly to the words of the text, and we shall have
to ask what is the temper of mind which after such
grievous buffetings can merit the benediction uttered
by Christ.1
But let us first observe that the Divine Teacher
deals in a most impressive way with our ordinary,
judgments on this particular form of injustice. Huxley
once remarked bitterly on the insane tendency of
mankind first to put to death their greatest men and
then to worship them. He uttered his most caustic
i Zahn's footnote on the participle SeSiioyp.e'i'Oi is puzzling. " The
present participle SioiKophoi is demanded by the sense, but is wholly
unattested and not inserted even by the post-canonical Evangelists
(Clem. Strob. iv. 41); and for the perfect I know of no other
justification except that the Hebrew equivalents (which are given) may
be rendered equally correctly either in this way or in that. The Hebrew
and Aramaic participles are properly timeless, though the active represent
predominantly a present, the passive a perfect tense." This leaves us
exactly where we were. If the Evangelist has so free a choice be
tween SioiKophoi and b'eb'ubyp.t'voi, why did he choose the latter unless he
believed that it represented Christ's thought better than the former ?
If the Aramaic would have given no sort of indication, is it not
possible that some oral tradition may have survived and determined the
Greek tense ? Or perhaps a memorandum of the saying written in Greek
may have favoured the perfect participle. In any case, I see no reason
why the latter Greek tense should not be strictly rendered. We are not
at present in a position to go behind it.

THE PERSECUTED 101
verdicts against the persecutor. Nowadays, of course,
there are some found who will make excuses for any
conduct however hateful, as it is considered that the<
limits to toleration should be removed as far back as
possible ; but in either case we are prone to pro
nounce judgment on the wrong-doer. That is out
point of interest. And if we turn our attention to his
victim, it is only to express unqualified commiseration.
How differently Christ looks at the two parties ! He
declares that the unhappy victim of this peculiarly
complex and heartless injury is blessed, and as to
him who inflicts the injury He is silent, in both ways
reversing our human way of dealing with these dramas
when they come to our notice. We either excuse
or condemn the one, as if to express some kind of
judgment on him were an irresistible instinct. Christ
leaves him aside without a word, with a silence, as in
other cases, so severe as to be awful.
Again, it seems clear that in three respects this
last Beatitude recalls the first, (i) There is a strong
similarity to the quality or condition on which the
benediction is spoken, poor or poor in spirit well
describing the state of those who have suffered per
secution ; (2) these two sentences alone are followed
by a reward spoken of in the present tense ; (3) that
reward is described in the same words. It is as if
the Saviour wished to present the picture in a less
abstract light to His audience. The description " poor
in spirit" gains immensely in distinctness when we
contemplate it under the words "who have been
persecuted," and remember as well as we can what
persecution was in those days. It is not unlike the
sudden vividness with which a picture on a wall
flashes upon our eyes sometimes when we change
our position fand look at it from a different angle.
And we might almost suppose our Lord was answer-

ro2 THE BEATITUDES
ing some unspoken question in the minds of His
hearers, such as this : how is poverty of spirit ac
quired ? We believe the word of blessing to be true
— is there no clue to the way in which the necessary
condition is to be fulfilled ? And the answer is briefly,
Yes, by having passed through the tremendous ex
perience of being the wholly undeserving recipient of
human violence, enmity and spite. That experience
may be taken to be the most effectual of all prepara
tions for the poverty of spirit, mentioned above, with
which the Beatitudes open. The enduring of perse
cution is therefore treated from the point of view of
its effect on the mind and character ; and the text
entitles us to hold that the normal way for a
life to develop quite securely this particular charac
teristic is for it to pass through the ordeal here
described — acute and prolonged suffering quite un
deserved ; in other words, severe pain and loss added
to a sense of injustice.
Indeed, it is difficult to exaggerate the emphasis
which is thus laid on the first Beatitude. That em
phasis is felt when we mark its place of primacy
among these glorious sayings, and then observe the
tone in which it is echoed and amplified in the last
of them. What, then, is the temper of an ordinary
faithful follower of Christ who has been through this
experience ?XS[t either makes him or mars him.
Unless he is filled with bitterness, wrath, and malice,
it must be because he is upheld by living belief
in the Fatherhood of God, and in the privilege
of being allowed to be a witness for Him in an
antagonistic world ; where no witness can be effectual
unless it excites antagonism ; and where, if it is
effectual, it is not because of the stir or tumult that
he raises, but because of the depth of his repose
ful serenity — a serenity born of a sense of sonship

THE PERSECUTED

103

which is often quickened by loss of temporal joys
and powers and rewards.
It is certain that if these startling words were
even to a small degree apprehended by any large
number of professing Christians, there would be
an indescribable change in our ordinary life.'w.n
immense amount of human energy is expended
in safeguarding our lives from the very influences
which our Saviour pronounces to be blessed, vital
ising and fertile. Not only do we labour and
plan and combine together to fend off every de
scription of pain and sorrow, but we allow our
selves to drift into complete acquiescence with the
average tone of opinion around us, so as to avoid
the slightest risk of any kind of collision with the
ordinary standards of society ; and yet, without
some collision, there can hardly be the faintest be
ginnings of anything that could be called persecution
or even annoyance from our fellow-men. And sup
posing that accidentally, as it were, something of
the sort takes place, we are borne along by an im
perious instinct so to display our own righteousness
as to enlist other sympathies in our favour, with a
view of abating the antagonism and making life
smooth once more. Nevertheless, if now and again
any one is found to rise superior to this instinct, we
fall at once under his spell, and think of his conduct
as wholly admirable, the fact being that nothing can
shake our conviction of the truth of Christ's teaching
that the reward of suffering from the blindness, the
cruelty, or the perverted consciences of others may
be, in spite of all appearances, a rich and glorious
gain. To some of those who pass through such an
experience the kingdom of Heaven belongs.
But only if they believe the principle here set
forth, and there is one cause of hesitation in doing

104 THE BEATITUDES
this which may be noticed. Any one of us may
feel that the real problem of life consists not so much
in bearing up against the conflict brought about by
our own honesty of purpose and faithful dealing, as
against the chill disapproval and polite neglect which
are the penalties of our own sillinesses and defects ;
of our vanity and assumption and selfish ignorance
of others' claims. The trouble that ensues is far too
paltry to be thought of as persecution, and so far
from being "for righteousness' sake," it is the direct
outcome of our own folly ; and we find ourselves
harbouring an unspoken misgiving that both the
suffering and the reward spoken of in this text
belong to lives lived on a higher plane than our own.
,We can imagine ourselves able to face the hostility of
even the good and great in the earth if it were the
outcome caused by our intrepid avowal of some noble
principle ; and if that hostility were accentuated till it
turned into something like persecution, we conceive
of ourselves as standing firm against affliction and
injury, glad to suffer for the sake ofyChrist. But the
chance of doing this is denied us.^In the first place
our lives are far too humdrum and insignificant to
awaken anything like hostility ; and, secondly, the
neglect of which we are apt to complain is due not
to anything good or brave in us, but rather to a
whole series of petty timidities, little omissions, and
blunders in conduct ; and probably we feel that
while the cost of heroism would no doubt be grievous
to bear, there is a prosaic humiliation about the
penalties of dullness which is not only most per
sistently galling and depressing to the spirit, but
seems to have no relation to the glorious promises
uttered by the Lord..,,*;
The unhappiness that springs from such common
experiences as these comes first from belittling their

THE PERSECUTED 105
importance. If Christ's words are true of persecution
as ordinarily understood, they are true also of lives
starved by neglect or frozen by the coldness of others :
for though the affliction may seem trivial and ignoble
when compared to the death of a Latimer, they may
be on quite as heroic a level as we can attain. People
are prone to hanker after the martyr's crown long
before they can endure disdain from a chance ac
quaintance, or the malicious tittle-tattle of a country
town, v -If in sober truth these things are to us as
nothing then they need not be discussed. If on the
other hand they mean a great deal, then why should
we not look for the blessing promised? Clearly it is
neither right nor rewarding to undergo these galling
rebuffs and stinging humiliations and then to per
suade ojsrselves that to us anyhow they are insignifi
cant. **5jrhe vigour with which we make the assertion
is often a measure of its untruth^And it is well to re
member that, however satisfactorily we may prove to
ourselves that we are superior to insult, and lifted up
too high to be reached by the shafts of others' ridicule,
yet there can be no blessing attached to persecution
which is not felt.
Secondly, we place ourselves outside the range of
the blessing by refusing to discern its truth. ^Jwhen
smarting from the unfriendliness of others we labour
to prove that they are in the wrong. In that case we
are of those to whom Christ's words directly apply.
If, however, the unkindness is due to our own fault,
why should it not be taken as curative in proportion
to its unpleasantness, instead of being thought of
merely as one of life's troubles which have no
meaning, and are wholly devoid of all element of
hope?

106 THE BEATITUDES
BLESSED WHEN MEN SHALL REVILE
V. II, 12
It will be convenient to consider these words, first
in their historical application to the apostles and dis
ciples of Christ under the circumstances of the time,
then in their bearing on modern life.
The saying is closely connected with the preceding,
though it is not cast into the form of a Beatitude. It
is an expansion of the idea of persecution. Our Lord
was unwilling that His followers should suppose the
blessing to be confined to the anguish of unjust perse
cution, as it is here shown to belong to something far
more ordinary, namely, undeserved obloquy ; as if
some one had demurred to the statement in ver. 10 on
the ground that " the persecuted " were after all, even
in those days, a minority of people ; and somewhat in
the spirit of Esau when he cried, " Hast thou no
blessing for me, oh my father ? " the question was
asked whether those only who should have been perse
cuted for His sake were entitled to the benediction.
And the answer comes, that not only persecution but
reproach and undeserved slander would under certain
conditions bring the blessing. The conditions were
two — first, the calumnies were to be false ; secondly,
they must be " because of Christ." The statement is
not as before capable of application already to the
hearers. Christ had said, " Blessed are they that have
been persecuted " ; now He says, " Blessed are ye
when men shall revile you." The strict inference
from this change of tense is that, whereas some who
listened to Him might have been persecuted already
" for righteousness' sake," it was not possible that at
this stage of His ministry there should be any ap
preciable number who had been reviled already " for
His sake " or " because of Him " ; but it was a cer-

BLESSED WHEN MEN SHALL REVILE 107
tainty that that was a condition of discipleship which
time would provide.
" Inasmuch as your reward in Heaven is great."
Is this simply a promise to them of some unexplained
recompense after death ? And is there not some
allusion to the Jewish idea of a reward literally stored
up in some invisible heaven for the faithful Israelite
-^-an allusion which would be repeated in vi. 20,
xix. 21 ? It is held that " in heaven " stands for
"with God" (cf. Matt. vi. 1), and Jesus merely means
that the recompense of completed work, or the com
pensation for what is sacrificed in this world, is made
ready by God even now. Any mystical pre-existence
of " reward " or " treasure " is in no way contem
plated.1 Thus the form of words in which this pro
mise is couched leaves it open to us to understand the
reward as some blessing to be bestowed by God in
this life as well as in the next, the absence of a verb in
the Greek sentence pointing towards this interpreta
tion. The promise is supported by a reference to the
experience of the prophets of old, but the relation of
the clauses to each other is far from easy to under
stand. Literally, they would be rendered, "Rejoice
and be exceeding glad ; inasmuch as great your
reward in the heavens ; for so persecuted they the
1 Dalman, p. 206 sqq. English translation, and for more startling in
stances, p. 129 sqq. It is noteworthy that our Lord, when His teaching
touched on subjects dealt with in Rabbinical literature in great detail and
much coarse realism, was not careful to avoid expressions which show that
He was aware of the Rabbinical ideas. Not unfrequently, as in the above
passages, He chooses words open to misapprehension from the Jewish
point of view, but perfectly adapted to their purpose of giving the clearest
instruction to " all nations." It is most striking that in using the very
terminology of the Rabbis He should have given an universal tone to
every saying, and the Gospel instances of this supreme mastery of the
subject should be compared with St. Paul's treatment of the place of
women in the Church and that of the new Jerusalem in the Apocalypse.
Cf. Edersheim, ii. p. 438.

108 THE BEATITUDES
prophets which were before you." How is this last
clause to be understood as depending on the previous
one ?
The reward of the faithful and patient endurance of
the undeserved suffering, calumny, and misunder
standing to which a servant of Christ like St. Paul
was subjected may be described as an ever-deepening
sense of increasing nearness to God, and of being
upborne by Him, so that no matter what the keenness
of the trial may be there is a profound tranquillity of
spirit resting on trustfulness which nothing can dis
turb (2 Cor. xii. 10). Concerning this there is a vast
amount of testimony given by heroes of Christianity
of all ages to the effect that the tranquillity and inward
joy are dependent on the suffering and fostered by
it. Therefore when Christ reminded His hearers of
the instance of the prophets, it is as if He said: " There
is a blessing attached not only to persecution but to
evil repute and slander, depending on the spirit in
which it is borne. The blessing is a sense of resting
on God's ' everlasting arms,' which is deepened by
the suffering. You may be assured that the reward
is great, because the prophets of old passed through
the same kind of experience of unmerited suffering,
and you yourselves know that their recompense was
full and glorious."
It is to be noticed that if there is any logical con
nexion in the instance of the prophets which is here
adduced, some such clause as this last is indispens
able. The Saviour appeals to His hearers' conviction
that with the prophets all was well. "When you
suffer, know that your reward is great ; because the
prophets suffered, and . . . their reward -j [¦
great." Such is the quasi-syllogistic form in which
the promise is cast, opening out questions, not to be

BLESSED WHEN MEN SHALL REVILE 109
determined here, how far and on what grounds the
disciples were assured of the richness of the prophets'
reward ; whether it was received by all and in equal
measure, and how far it could be described as a
quickened sense of the Divine support, or was iden
tified in the consciousness of later generations with
something less spiritual. There was a time when the
book of Deuteronomy was compiled, when probably
the recompense of heroism would have been con
ceived of as prosperity in this world ; but as years
went on, our Lord introduced quite other notions
of reward into men's minds — notions anticipated,
doubtless, by many passages in the Psalms, and here
hinted at for the first time in the Gospels by an appeal
to history from the most spiritual point of view. The
more the disciples reflected on the life and death of
the prophets of old, the more they would feel that the
appeal was justified ; in other words, that there was
something in the terrific ordeal through which those
great witnesses passed which issued in joy either
in this world or the next — a joy springing from no
visible or easily stated facts, but to be explained only
by the personal relation of the soul to God.
Without this invisible result of suffering, nothing
could be more unintelligible than our Lord's exhor
tation, " Rejoice and be exceeding glad." He was
speaking to men who were shortly to undergo acute
suffering ; not only that of persecution, which some
times may be represented as heroic, but the suffering
which springs from commonplace dull ill-treatment of
one man by others, from calumny and false witness ;
and by way of assurance He points to the history
of great and holy men who had been through grim,
harrowing afflictions, perhaps as painful as those in
store for the apostles, but like them principally in
being quite undeserved. Taken by itself, without re-

no THE BEATITUDES
ference to some unearthly consolation to be received*
such a parallel from the past, so far from being any
support to the command, could be nothing but a
cruel mockery. Yet there is that in human experience
which ratifies the words as a message of boundless
encouragement. To understand this better we may modernise the
words, "Blessed are all kinds of unpopularity and
ill-treatment received from others, if only they are
undeserved and inflicted because of Christ." Then
follows the appeal to the will in the matter of glad
ness, which, hke love, we are apt to regard wrongly
as quite independent of the will, though this is against
the view presented in the New Testament. " Rejoice
and be exceeding glad : inasmuch as great is your
reward in heaven." That is a reward quite unlike a
visible earthly reward ; not at all the same, therefore,
as a restoration of what was lost. " For consider the
great and holy men among My followers : have they
not been so ill-treated and slandered ? and no one
doubts that they are blessed." One great difficulty
is in the condition, "Because of Me." In a vague
way we conceive of these words as appropriate to the
Apostles, but not to ourselves ; imagining, probably,
their age to be more unlike our own than it really was.
But in our own life we find it impossible to be sure
that we fulfil the condition. In other words, the
disfavour, neglect, or harshness from which people
suffer they often feel to be partly deserved, as the
issue of their own selfishness or folly, and the
poignant disappointment which attends this does not
seem to be forbidden by Christ's words. This is
true. But the words of our Lord do not touch
this particular subject. What exactly do we gain
from them as to our behaviour under unprovoked
ill-treatment, slights, and evil report ?

BLESSED WHEN MEN SHALL REVILE in
In trying to comfort a friend who is suffering from
these trials we generally ignore the words of Christ,
whose promised blessing depends on a compensa
tion or reward which is "in heaven," that is, not
" on earth " ; we strive to show that on earth and
before long things will come right, and often for
getting altogether that the sufferer is under orders
to " rejoice and be exceeding glad," we provoke him
to wrath simply by insisting along with him on the
falseness of the slander or the injustice of the feeling
shown towards him. Better if we reminded him that
the words " Because of Me " contain something of
the sense, " For My sake," and that in realising this
lies the certain hope of the promised blessing; not
in whittling away the facts or viewing our conduct
in a favourable light, but in the assurance that the
very thing which gives to such experiences their
peculiarly galling character, viz. their injustice, is that
on which the blessing depends, and through which
we may believe that His kingdom is advanced on
earth. No one denies that the trial is supremely
bitter ; but how vast would be the difference if men
entered upon it with their minds filled with a con
viction that the truth is as Christ states it ! And
when He bids us to think over the prophets and
their relation to their contemporaries, this is an
exhortation to the study of the history of saintly
heroes ; since from that study we get the corrobora
tion of the principle that such greatness among
men as is fruitful for good always shows a power of
being unshaken by calumny and ill-usage, and that
the inner tranquillity and joy of soul is fostered and
deepened by the suffering.
The change in the wording from " for righteousness'
sake" to "for My sake" is noteworthy. It is the
earliest recorded instance of the lofty claims which

112 THE BEATITUDES
Jesus advances on His own behalf. The accumulated
testimony of saints and Christian heroes to the power
of the personal relation with Christ makes it hard for
us to imagine the wholly unexpected character of such
a saying as this. The Galilean carpenter begins His
great Discourse by affirming that the most vexatious
and depressing of life's trials is pregnant with bless
ing, but that the blessing depends on it being borne
" for His sake." Whence was this astounding assur
ance prompted ?
There is a tendency for those who pass through
such an ordeal to envy others who seem able to
combine genuine goodness with the favour of
the world. They need not. These latter, if they
are worth envying, care not one straw for popu
larity, and that is the chief reason why they are
popular, men thus perpetually erring in judgment
and perpetually correcting the error. It is also
very doubtful if the power of lifting mankind is not
essentially weakened by popularity. At any rate, a
popular prophet or saint leaves little behind him that
requires to be permanently recorded ; in other words,
it is not to the examples of such that Christ directs
our attention.

II

THE SALT OF THE EARTH
v. 13
Even after the lapse of centuries the intense vivid
ness and abrupt challenge of these words arrests the
attention in a most striking way. It was the first
instance of the Lord's unapproachable power of
using as telling images the commonest objects of
ordinary life. What were the associations of salt to
a Jew of those days ? 1 However universal be the
1 " Owing to its wide distribution on the earth, salt has been known
from the very earliest times. It is frequently mentioned in the Bible.
The Jewish law commanded the people to season the meat offering with
salt (Lev. ii. 13). The Jews used a very impure argillaceous kind of rock
salt, from which they extracted the salt by means of water, leaving the
clay as mud. This mud still contained some salt, and was either used
directly for agricultural purposes, or was allowed to lie on the manure
heaps before being used, where, after prolonged exposure, in presence of
nitrogenous matter, the salt was partially converted into sodium nitrate.
Hence we find the expressions in Matt. v. 13 ; Luke xiv. 34." — " Dictionary
of Chemistry," s.v. " Salt."
This passage throws some light on the very difficult phrases " Salt of
the earth " and concerning the salt " losing its savour." The first may
mean literally the salt mixed with clay. But if this was the ordinary idea
of salt which the Jews formed, it was quite unnecessary for the words
Tijs y?s to be added. It appears that " salt " by itself would have denoted
the mixture. There is reason, therefore, to prefer Zahn's interpretation
(footnote in loc), whereby ttjs yrjs is not part of the parable, but denotes
mankind : just as below, in " light of the world," the word "light" is (like
" salt ") part of the parable, but " of the world " is not. As to the " salt
losing its savour " there is no such thing possible in the case of what we
mean by salt ; but obviously it could and often did happen in Palestine,
where the word denoted the earthy mixture, and when it happened there
..3 H

114 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
teaching of Christ, this question demands an answer.
First, it was a symbol of incorruptibility, or, more
precisely, of that which had the natural quality of
resisting decay, not only in itself but in other things ;
and this quality it might lose. And when it lost its
distinctive quality it became perfectly useless, even as
manure (Luke xiv. 34). But there was a special use
to which the fresh salt was put. It was sprinkled
over the meat destined for the Temple altar to pre
serve it from corruption.1
Thus the members of the Kingdom of God that was
was left simply a mass of mud or clay. "Wherewith shall it be salted?"
means, then, "how shall the salt be restored to the earthy stuff?" There
remain, however, two obscure expressions in St. Luke xiv. 35: "It is fit
neither for the land" (the "Dictionary" seems to contradict this) "nor
yet for the dunghill." Here again Zahn comes to the rescue. When it is
said that this mud from which salt has been withdrawn is useless for the
land, the comparison is not between two sorts of salt, as if the mineral
itself were ever good for manure (on the contrary, the expression saltness
is equivalent to barrenness: Ps. cvii. 34; Job xxxix. 6, &c), but between
this mud and other sorts of waste stuff, such as excrement, decomposed
flesh, &c, which are used for manure. On this point the extract given
above from the " Dictionary" is far less satisfactory. Similarly, "nor yet
for the dunghill." The mixture was gathered from the saliferous clays which
rise along the slopes of the Dead Sea (the 4Xes 'SoSopcnvol referred to in
the "Talmud") a good deal higher than the present level of the water,
and which indicate a former much wider extension. These were described
by the French geologist, Lartel, some years ago. (I owe this and the
reference to the " Dictionary " to my former colleague, Mr. R. Hornby.)
There would be three stages to be distinguished : ( 1) the " argillaceous rock
salt" prior to washing; this was salt, mainly mixed with mud; (2) after
treatment, mud, mainly mixed with salt ; (3) simply mud. Now it
appears that the expression, " fit for the dunghill," refers to the process
explained by the " Dictionary " ; but not as if the spreading on the dunghill
was to benefit the manure any more than there was a spreading on the
land to benefit the latter. It means that the simple mud cannot be made
into anything useful by the exposure. Therefore, to be quite precise, the
paraphrase would be : " Mud (No. 3) from which salt has been washed
away is not like other waste stuff fit for manuring land ; nor, like No. 2,
worth exposing on a dunghill that some further chemical change may
take place, since this cannot happen. It is therefore thrown away.
1 Edersheim: "The Temple," pp. 84, 90, 134.

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 115
to be were addressed by our Lord, as forming a
group endowed with a mysterious power of so acting
on their surroundings as to check the tendencies to
corruption which are ceaselessly at work in the world.
And to this is added the beautiful thought that
mankind, on whom this group is to act, is naturally
destined as an offering to God, in sacrifice. That is
the idea ; and if it seems to us to be out of corre
spondence with the facts of life, as we know them,
that must be because the antidote to the corruption
has acted so feebly ; it has lost much of its saltness.
And a little reflection will show us that in an ordinary
way there is a great deal of random and useless
complaint as to the world being out of joint. Good
people have a way of pointing out to each other the
precise reasons why the corrupt behaviour of "the
world " is corrupt and mischievous ; they cast their
blame on the mass of mankind for exhibiting the
symptoms of corruption, and with a never-ceasing
astonishment at the recurrence of these symptoms
seem to think the problem is somehow solved by
their enumeration. We might as well be astonished
at the signs of corruption in butchers' meat left to
decay ; or, rather, left in contact with some salt
substance which has lost its savour, and so does
nothing to arrest decay. There is nothing wrong in
the constitution of things, in so far as the closeness
of contact between those elements which preserve
and those which require preserving is concerned.
The salt is there, and it is sprinkled on the meat : the
children of the Kingdom are in perpetual touch with
" the world," and if, nevertheless, the corruption con
tinues it is not because the latter is doing anything
surprising, but solely because the purifying power
has died out from the former; and how terribly
tragic the facts become when we remember further,

116 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
that these swarms of living beings are not simply so
many forms of existence, which are thus left to sink
into decay, but are lives intended to be offered to
God in sacrifice, as being clean and wholesome,
destined for the highest of all possible objects in
virtue of their capacity to be kept pure. And all the
time they are only fulfilling the natural law of their
being in thus decaying. If the situation is to be
changed, the salt with which they come into contact
must have saltness.
We are now able to discern the connexion between
this parabolic utterance and the Beatitudes which
preceded it. Doubtless, it is easy to overpress such
connexions. The surpassing vividness of our Lord's
style of teaching, its picturesqueness and brevity, seem
sometimes hardly compatible with a clear, logical
sequence, since popular discourses gain little or nothing
in effectiveness from being drawn on logical lines.
But though this is so, and may be taken as a sign to
what a small extent ordinary life is ruled by logic,
it is most desirable to trace a line of thought where
possible, even though it seems to have been dis
regarded by our Lord, or at least intentionally sub
ordinated to the great requisites of clearness and
brevity. In the Beatitudes, then, there was an impressive
statement of the blessedness of those who in their
character fulfil certain conditions of the divine king
dom, though the doing of this involves a sharp conflict
with worldly ideals. And the description ends with
a statement of this opposition issuing inevitably in
active hostility between the world and the kingdom.
What, then, was to be the hope and what the guiding
fact as to this relation between the kingdom and the
world which encompasses it ? It is that the new
society has in it the power of purification as an en-

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 117
dowment, and can exercise that power by simply
living its own true life in contact with the world.
The world is not to be truckled to nor imitated, nor
flouted, nor feared, nor despaired of, by members of
the kingdom, but preserved from corruption.
There is thus unfolded before the minds of the
Galilean crowds a prospect of magnificent grandeur
and hopefulness. But immediately the warning
comes. This purifying power may be lost; and, if
it is, the individual or the community becomes not
only dead but hopelessly useless, even for the func
tions of ordinary dead things. Its own decay has
nothing restorative about it, just as stale salt-slag is
unfitted for manure, and indeed such influence as it
has at all on its surroundings is bad ; it is at best only
innocuous, and that is when it is ground to powder
by the feet of heedless passers-by.1 By this terrible
image, reported by St. Luke, Christ balances the
almost unlimited encouragement contained in the
opening words of our verse.
It is true that, taken by themselves, the words " Ye
are the salt of the earth " might encourage pride ;
but not if the meaning of the little parable be con
sidered. The mysterious physical property in salt
called " savour " in the English version belongs to it
from the first. But when applied to human beings
the figure suggests a sharp contrast. In those who
were to be members of God's kingdom, the power
to resist corruption was to be indicative of a life not
physical but spiritual, not received at birth but im
parted later. The human infant is born with instincts
and desires which all tend to fashion it into conformity
with its surroundings. The more it can adapt itself
the more it fulfils its immediate desires of gaining
pleasure. It thrives upon conformity, escaping pain.
1 Vide Plummer on Luke xiv. 34, and Alford.

118 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
Such is the law of its physical life. But the spiritual
life manifests itself in a contrary way as antagonistic
to its surroundings, not by set purpose or with any
ulterior aim, but by a "savour" of its own. And
again, as always, we are reminded that the savour is
a divine gift, the gift of God's own life promised later
on by our Lord Himself, and imparted in due time
by the Holy Spirit. There is nothing in this to minister
to pride. Whether we consider the source of our
power or the conflict which the exercise of it involves,
a due perception of the lesson contained in the words,
" Ye are the salt of the earth," must engender a spirit
of humility and yet of thankfulness and hope.
As addressed to the future members of the society
the words seem to be hardly applicable nowadays.
Instead of a group of human beings distinguished
from the surrounding mass of corruption, or of men
in danger of corruption, we look forth on a church
inextricably blended with the world, and exhibiting not
only a languid power of renewal in many of her mem
bers, but often a state of advanced decay in herself,
or, what is more suggestive of misgiving, a morbid
activity in promoting purely mundane objects, relying
on mundane means of strength, and adopting the
conventional maxims of the day, not because they
are true or improving, but simply because they are
conventional, which fact is held to compensate for
their lowness of tone and opposition to the teaching
of our Lord. This is very true and very grievous, but
it is well to remember that it makes no sort of differ
ence to the deep truth that the divinely-founded
society is the appointed means of rescuing the world
from corruption ; and the more this idea of the col
lective responsibility for the inward vitality of the
whole body is realised, the more it tends to be
expressed in fact.

THE SALT OF THE EARTH 119
Lastly, it is most remarkable how the tone of the
warning differs from that usually heard nowadays
when similar topics are treated. Supposing any one
finds himself in the position of being called to a work
of a missionary kind, with a definite sphere of influence
on which to act. By way of encouraging him, a good
deal is generally said about the benefit he may confer
on those with whom he comes into contact. And,
conversely, if he grows apathetic, or timid, or con
ventional, we point to the sad deprivation of those
who are hungering for the message which never
comes. In that quarter we find material for our
tragedy. Not so our Lord. In a few terribly graphic
touches He portrays the woeful plight, not of sur
rounding society which has been left to decay, but
of the unfaithful missionary himself, or rather of the
community on whom the collective duty of arresting
corruption by antagonism has been laid. Christ seems
not to shrink from the danger of pressing the claims
of self ; the missionary community must think of its
own vocation, the certainty of its doing its purifying
work if only it be true to the purpose of its endow
ment ; and it must also think of the utter tragedy of
its own ruin if it lose sight of the meaning of its
existence and the aim of its high calling, viz., the
acting upon its surroundings in virtue of a savour of
antagonism. It is not unlikely that there may be an
exaggeration in the modern idea of avoiding everything
egoistic in our appeals for spiritual work. It evidently
is not enough to think only of the loss sustained by
others if we fail. Christ, here as elsewhere, dwells on
the piteous result to ourselves, not, indeed, of failure
after honest effort, but of the dying away of some
thing within us which was once full of life and
promise.

Ill
THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD
v. 14-16
Here we have a signal instance of the Lord's practice
of using two parabolic images, one after another, for
the sake of completeness in presenting a truth as
vividly as possible. And we notice that the apphca
tion of the figure of light requires for itself a double
subordinate figure ; that of a city set on a hill-top
and a candle. The questions, therefore, which come
up for solution are these : Why was that particular
audience addressed in terms which at first seem to us
far too flattering ? And supposing for a moment that
the reference is to the Pentecostal gift shortly to be
bestowed, why is the present tense used — " ye are " ?
Thirdly, was there not danger of encouraging self-
conceit in those who heard such words ? (These
three questions arise, of course, quite as naturally
out of ver. 13.) Fourthly, what is the significance
of the figure of a city ; that is, would any other object
set high up suit equally well for the comparison ?
Fifthly, does the exhortation to a certain kind of
publicity in the Christian life apply to us now, or was
it restricted to the time of the birth of the Church ?
There is no way of explaining the use of such
language as this to the particular audience in Palestine
at that time, except on the assumption that they were
shortly to become members of a Body which was to

THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD 121
be illuminated with a special gift of light, compared to
which the remainder of the world was as darkness.
There was nothing else to characterise them as being
worthy of two such designations as " Salt of the Earth "
and " Light of the World."
It is true that up to this time, as compared with
other Semitic peoples, the Jewish nation had shown
itself to possess a wonderful faculty of apprehending
truths about God. Their contribution to mankind's
knowledge has often been said to be a religious
contribution, as distinct from that of the Greeks,
which was artistic and philosophical, and that of
the Romans, which was political and juristic. I would
therefore explain the present tense as follows : For
some centuries, ever since the early days when the
Hebrew notions of Jehovah rose above those of the
surrounding Semitic tribes, and when in the popular
mind righteousness was definitely ascribed to the
Deity, this gifted nation had begun to be potentially
the Salt of the Earth and Light of the World. But
up till now they had no mission to the outside world ;
rather it was their highest conception of public duty
to keep themselves aloof, " to dwell apart " from the
shocks and collisions of mighty racial forces like those
of Assyria and Egypt, and develop in peaceful isola
tion and obscurity as the depository of the highest
truths hitherto imparted to mankind about God.
But when Christ came all this was to be changed.
The time had arrived when this endowment from on
high was to act upon the surrounding peoples, and for
isolation there must be substituted active intercourse
and radiation of religious power and truth as from
a centre. This was a great change in the national ideal, and,
as we know, the Jews failed to rise to the new con
ception. They imagined always that instead of their

122 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
being divinely empowered to renew and illuminate
the Gentiles, there was still to be the " wall of
partition" through which the only door was that
of strict obedience to legal ordinances and inventions
of men. But what our Lord meant was, that the
time had come for the stage of self-development to
pass into that of propagation or self-diffusion ; and
whereas up till now the great test of national fidelity
to God had been their separateness from the rest of
mankind, in future it was to be in their loving contact
with the Gentiles, and in their tranquil spreading of
truths which had been gradually revealed to them
alone. It was a very great crisis in a nation's history. The
passing on from self-development to the task of con
verting the world was beset with peculiar dangers.
Christ reveals to His people the fact of their own
peculiar endowment. Clearly this was to expose
them to the danger of pride and a morbid self-
consciousness. So we observe that in this most com
pressed and pithy saying no less than four cautions
are given, which act as warnings against pride : (i) As
already noticed, the endowment may be lost ; (2) The
image of a city showed that the charge was given not
to individuals but to an organised group ; (3) The
influence was to be exercised not by a domineering
or arrogant self-assertion, but by the peaceful action
of an implanted grace. A city does not set itself on a
hill, but " is set " by an outside power ; so a light does
not kindle itself, but "is kindled," and then all that
is necessary is that it should be severely true to its
own nature, and, having been favourably placed, to
shine. The image is a corrective of self-conceit.
(4) The object is clearly stated : "That men may see
your good works and glorify your Father which is in
heaven." So that the hearers might feel dissatisfied

THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD 123
if they received glory ; such a result being an indica
tion that the real object of the endowing of the human
nature had failed. The greater the glory they receive,
the less would God in heaven receive.
On the other hand, the positive injunction is equally
definite : " You have the life and light ; don't be afraid
of letting them both act." This is a command to men
to be what they really are, and not to behave as if they
were something else. It is part of our Lord's frequent
and urgent warnings against hypocrisy, or acting a
part, as distinguished from what we call naturalness.
And if a difficulty is raised in connexion with the
image of a city, viz. that as a city on a hill cannot be
hid, the caution to the disciples is superfluous, the
answer is simple enough. Our Lord does not say that
the new society which He is founding can be suc
cessful in the attempt to escape notice, but that to
make the attempt at all is wrong. If human beings
receive a power, the very essence of which is self-
diffusive, nothing but harm can come of it if the
recipient aims at being self-centred, since men fail
from underrating their own potential value no less
than from overrating it.
The two parabolic sayings give with the most sur
prising clearness a noble and complete view of human
life; that of the individual belonging to a society
which is divinely endowed, and charged with the duty
of living serenely its natural life, though in presence
of perpetual antagonism. The social character of the
endowment is shown by the plural " Ye are," and by
the use of the figure of a city. The fact of there being
an endowment is brought out by the second figure,
the lamp is lit ; that is, the group of the disciples is
illuminated by a higher power, and then so placed in
this life that self-diffusion becomes a necessity, unless
they are false to their vocation. It would seem from

124 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
this that Christians ought to realise distinctly the fact
of their being endowed, but at the same time to
remember that the right use of the endowment is
not with self-conscious strain, but the tranquil exer
cise of mainly unconscious influence. It is probable
that men's best work is that which they know least
about.

IV
CHRIST THE FULFILLER
v. 17-20.
Among the many questions which press for solution
in connexion with this paragraph, one of the most
interesting is the relation in which it stands to the
preceding and the succeeding paragraphs. If this rela
tion can be shown to be natural and in no way forced,
we so far see reason to hold that the remainder of the
chapter is not a detached fragment from some other
discourse, but an integral portion of this Sermon.
Before anything, however, can be said as to this diffi
cult subject, it is to be noticed that the sense of the
paragraph itself depends partly on the explanation
given of the three words "for," v. 18; "therefore,"
v. 19 ; " for," v. 20. What, in short, is the main
teaching of the paragraph itself?
4 " Think not that I came to destroy the law or the
prophets." /There is evidence to show that in Palestine
all this time men looked forward to a Messiah who
would play the part of a destroyer of the old Dis
pensation. Historically, of course, there is great
interest in the accumulation of such evidence But
on the assumption that there is a message in the
Sermon for all peoples and all time, we may generalise
the statement by saying that men naturally are appre
hensive concerning innovation lest it should take the
form of destruction. A constructive genius is far more

126 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
difficult to anticipate, and requires a higher faculty to
understand than a great destructive force, or, in other
words, the programme of revolution is more intelli
gible than that of evolution. Now we observe that
our Lord accepted the r61e of a Founder, which is in
some sense of course that of an innovator/ and in
these verses it is clear that He wishes to lift the minds
of His hearers to the conception of something con
structive to be built on the old Dispensation without
destroying it.v It is not easy for us even now to make
clear to ourselves how this was done ; and at the time
the words were spoken they must have presented an
insoluble problem, almost insoluble even after vivid
illustration was shed on them, by the remainder of
this chapter. It is necessary, therefore, to consider
the meaning of the two words "destroy " and "fulfil"
in ver. 17, and in particular their relation to the old Dis
pensation denoted by the words "law and prophets."
It is noticeable at once that Christ uses a word
for " destroy " which seems to be merely an echo of
some confused popular sayings about the Messiah.
It is indeed not easy to state clearly what is meant
by destroying a law or a set of laws, still less easy to
say what would be the meaning of " destroying the
prophets." Laws may no doubt be repealed, but it
is not conceivable that any clear-headed man anti
cipated that the Messiah would repeal the Ten Com
mandments, or was going to forbid the Old Testament
to be read. Strictly speaking, this is the only rational
sense which attaches itself to the words ; and I con
ceive that Christ was here merely putting on one side
a rough popular description of the role which He was
supposed to be going to play — a description which it
is therefore needless for us to analyse.
The case, however, is quite different with the im
portant word "fulfil." This word Christ chooses

CHRIST THE FULFILLER 127
Himself as an adequate description of His policy
and aims. He says in effect, "My aim, not only
in regard to the old Dispensation, but generally, is
not to destroy but to fulfil," since we find the
object is dropped after the two verbs in the second
clause of the verse. Now we observe that through
the rest of the paragraph the explanation is with
regard not to Christ's attitude towards the whole of
the Old Testament, but towards the law only : " com
mandments" is the expression used in v. 19. It will
simplify our problem therefore if we first investigate
the meaning of " fulfilling a law."
In ordinary conversation people take this to mean
simply, " Do what the law says." But this is exactly
the sense which our Lord excludes in the illustrations
which follow. Hence the meaning is often supposed
to be to "give a spiritual interpretation to an injunc
tion or ordinance." This, however, is a vague sense,
and unsatisfactory when applied to the expression " to
fulfil the Scriptures," or " the saying," common in St.
Matthew. In ii. 15, 18, two statements are quoted
which apparently when spoken or written referred to
the past : " A voice was heard," " Out of Egypt did I
call ; " and the Evangelist says that when subsequent
events occurred "the saying was fulfilled." Part,
anyhow, of his meaning must be that in his view
the full meaning of events and of sayings descriptive
of them remained unperceived by mankind till later
experience revealed it. In the light of this later
experience it was re -interpreted. The prophetic
comment on some passing event is found to be
full of import for subsequent history, and so gains,
as the centuries pass, a new and richer sense, a
wider application and significance. Perhaps this in
terpretation will help us in the more difficult phrase
" to fulfil a law," and to clear up some difficult points

128 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
in vers. 18, 19, and 20. What is meant by no jot or
tittle of the law passing away ? and by the words " till
all things become " or " come to pass," at the end
of v. 18 ? and by the word " loosen " in v. 19 ? and
what is the connexion with v. 20 ?
Our Lord's handling of such precepts as "Thou
shalt not kill," " Thou shalt not commit adultery,"
has taught us for all time the difference between the
spirit and the letter of a commandments The function
of a literal commandment or prohibition, as given
to an individual or a nation, is to train the moral
sense during a period of childhood ; further, a time
comes when the adolescent moral life is in danger of
being throttled unless the literal precept gradually
gives way to a more elastic and less restrictive law
which is to guide it in its maturity. This is how
the individual child is trained. And we observe that
the prohibitions to be of any use in the earlier period
must be fixed and rigid and literally obeyed. That is
how their function is performed when the childish
intelligence requires a concrete statement of duty and
clearly-marked limits of action. But in proportion
as there is a need of rigidity for the training of the
nascent moral sense, so there is a need of elasticity
and loosening when the moral sense enters on the
adolescent stage. The function of conserving life
first enforces literalism, then spirituality. As a rough
illustration we may take the egg-shell, which shelters
the young bird-life through its embryonic and in
fantine stage. How absolutely necessary it is that
the shell be rigid and rounded off ! Fostering of
growth so far means confining ; but there comes a
time when this fostering will turn to choking and
crushing unless rigidity gives way to relaxation. And
we notice that a good description of this process is
to call it a loosening.

CHRIST THE FULFILLER 129
Now we might say that there is a passing away of
such a thing as an egg-shell, but it would be untrue
to say that a prohibition which is necessary for the
young child ever passes away, though the literal
obedience to it may become a matter of indiffer
ence.1 It is a method of helping to form a habit,
first of outward action, then of mind and thought,
which grows through the outward action till it becomes
independent of it ; but the inward and the outward
are far too closely connected to allow of our saying
that one passes away while the other remains. A
seed does not " pass away " when the flower begins
to spring up, but rather it is absorbed into a new
form of life-energy.. Hence we can understand how
our Lord put aside some prevailing erroneous opinion
when He declared that not a jot or tittle of the law
should pass away. But let it be observed how im
mense is the difference between the enactments which
we call the Ten Commandments and the rabbinical
ordinances built up on them, or even the rules and
prohibitions with which we strive to control the way
wardness of childhood. Even a prohibition may be
felt to be divine when it is found to abide through
many changeful ages.
The expression in ver. 18, " Till all things be
accomplished " (R.V.) is striking. It seems to point
forward to the time when the world of " becoming "
shall pass into that of " being." Possibly, too, if it
may be taken as applying broadly to prophetical say
ings as well as to "law," it may mean, "Till all events
which illuminate the inspired sayings of the old Dis-
1 It is interesting to observe that in the case of the Ten Commandments
there is not one injunction which does not remain entirely and obviously
valid under the new Dispensation, even the prohibition against " work "
on the Sabbath, if Sabbath be changed to Sunday, and the idea of " work,"
as distinct frpm voluntary service, be retained. I

130 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
pensation shall have come to pass." The expression
clearly contains some meaning which is not found in
the words, " Till heaven and earth pass away," or its
insertion would be superfluous.
This being so, we may now pass to the difficult
ver. 19. We have an idea of " loosening," and we
want to know why it is combined with " teaching " ;
and further, how loosening and teaching is related to
" doing and teaching " ; and what is the emphasis on
the word " least."
The aspect in which members of the kingdom are
here regarded is that of helpers in a process of life.'
In other words, if we conceive of the literal precept
stage as the earliest in the spiritual development^ it is
plain that a necessary though very humble service to
that development is rendered by one who, at the right
time, relaxes the pressure of the precept under the
conviction that it is outgrown. He can do this in two
ways — either by simply teaching others that the next
stage in development has begun and that the precepts
must now be spiritually obeyed^r by showing by
practice and action that he is fulfilling the precept in
a new way.>/The humbler service is to relax by teach
ing others ; the harder and higher task being to act
out the spiritual meaning of the law. (Notice here
the strong claim of community life. ^Our Lord does
not classify as a member of the kingdom at all one
who only for himself relaxes the precept. Viewed
socially, the humblest helper of the spiritual develop
ment is he who relaxes and teaches others to see the
meaning of the relaxation^ And if the precept which
is thus relaxed, and by relaxation is absorbed into the
next stage of development, be " one of the least of
these commandments," clearly such a loosener is en
titled to the " least " position " in the kingdom." Far
higher we feel to be the achievement of one who

CHRIST THE FULFILLER 131
teaches the meaning of the change by the compelling
grandeur of his own life and conduct. (" Do and
teach " ; not in the reverse order, " Practise what he
preaches," which would be irrelevant here.) The
glory of teaching is in affirmation and construction y
but in the history of progress there is seen to be a
place for the humble denier, the destructive critic, the
iconoclast-teachefy the loosener of men's allegiance to
outworn ideals /and our Lord allows us to perceive
the almost infinite distance between this and His own
supreme affirmation of spiritual progress both by pre
cept and exampleV He was a loosener indeed, but
wholly without violence, and a builder of a new
spiritual building which can stand against all the
shocks of time — the fabric of a society gradually'
growing, through understanding of His life and
participation in it, into the perfection of spiritual
obedience. In this development there are the following stages :
(1) Blind subservience to narrow precepts of conduct
(the number of which the Jewish teachers continually
augmented) ; (2) the loosener able to see that this
stage was inadequate ; (3) and to explain why ; (4)
able to act out the spiritual underlying principle ; (5)
and by teaching as well as example to lead others to
do the same. Evolution is a higher thing than revolu
tion, but revolution is often better than stagnation.^
Ver. 20 : " Unless your righteousness shall ex
ceed . . ." The word translated " exceed " is not
easy to render with precision when it is combined
with another word meaning " more than." It pro
bably means "be abundant," or "overflow" more
than that of the scribes and Pharisees ; and this
again should not be taken to imply that the right
eousness of the latter overflowed or was abundant, but
rather that the righteousness of Christ's hearers was

132 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
to overflow so as to exceed, implying that the righteous
ness which was exhibited by the scribes and Pharisees
was of the sort that was restricted within limits^and
that the righteousness which was to be that of the
new kingdom was to be of an unrestricted nature,
overflowing its limits, The importance of this transla
tion is evident If the injunction was, as might be
inferred from the Revised Version, simply that His
hearers were to be more righteous than the Pharisees,,
and in their way, then indeed the burden of Judaism,
was being laid more heavily on their necks than ever
before. Obedience to a strict and growing code of
rules, and an idea that having fulfilled this more
completely than others constituted a title to self-
congratulation and to the praise of men — these seem
to be leading features of the Pharisaic character.
Now our Lord on several occasions warned His dis
ciples most emphatically against all these characteris
tics. They were cautioned against the idea that they
could ever suppose they had done enough, and with
no less urgency He bids them beware of the love of
praise.^ Thus here it is reasonable to take the words
as indicating a leading feature of the Christian char
acter — that its righteousness is unrestricted by any
limits. It grows and- grows, and yet is ever dissatis
fied with itself, and ever recoils from the praise of
men, as though such praise implied that a limit had
been reached beyond which it was not to be expected
that men need go. More will be said on this point
when we come to the solemn words, " Be ye perfect
as your Father in heaven is perfect." Meantime we
cannot be wrong in supposing that the entry into the
kingdom is defined to be at the point where stag
nation merges into discontent, or where the efforts
after the ideal goodness overflow, as refusing to be
bound by the letter of an enactment. And in the

CHRIST THE FULFILLER 133
case of the Pharisees there was another limit within
which their " righteousness " was confined — the limit
of self. They were zealous after a certain ideal of
virtue which was highly rated at the time ; but they
had no conception of social service such as Christ'
declared in v. 19 ("And teach men so'^to be in
dispensable. In our day it is quite easy to vary the
outward form of virtue, or righteousness, or respec
tability, and yet to leave the canker at the root. Men
may easily be eager after social service, but if it is for
selfish ends it is Pharisaism in modern dress. The
righteousness of Christ's kingdom is to_j2£jiiishackled
by any enactments, though in its training it may be «
guided by them ;.. but still more necessary is it that it
should " abound " so as to overflow the claims of self.
Pharisaic virtue must have been like a cold, still,
stagnant pool ; the righteousness of the Christian
recalls the bubbling spring which, welling out from
unseen depths, overflows its hollow bed, and courses
onwards and outwards to give life wherever it runs.
The paragraph may now be summarised so as to
show the connexions of the verses. Christ had just
told His disciples to let their good works be seen by
others. But at this point a question must naturally
arise — of what nature were the good works to be ?
Were they to be based on the legal statutes IVBut, if so,
how were they to differ from the painstaking displays
of virtue given by the scribes and Pharisees ? VAnd,
again, was not the new Messiah to be a destroyer of
the law and the prophets ? ^So the Teacher lays down
the great truth that the precepts of the law were not to
be destroyed because He was not come as a destroyer
but as a fulfiller ; as One who was not to annihilate
the early Dispensation, but to lift it on into its next
and last stage. * For the law will not be annihilated in
any single enactment, but transformed, and it will

134 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
not be thought of as having passed away till all future
events destined to bring out its meaning shall have
come to pass. Its interpretation will itself have a
history, the history of a development ; and the first
requisite in that development is that the literal
rigidit^rjghlJ^w^axafiteristic of the first stage should
be relaxed. V This relaxation must be effected by
working on merrsjrjjrjrls, either by sjrrjjalej^aching
or by the sua^sive^Qrc^jpj_jauiif£- lived amojag^ibem.
Of these two ways the second is by far the greater,
but the first, even if it is carried out with regard to the
least important enactment, will give him who achieves
it the passport to Maukingdom. For membership in
that kingdom is only given to those who serve others ;
and so your righteousness is to be different in kind
from the legal righteousness which you know — that is
fettered by selfishness and is not intended to pass a
certain limit of effort, determined by conventional
standards ; yours is to be unshackled by rules, un
selfish, and rich in the spirit of social service ; and
when your righteousness begins"*"*to"" exhibit these
qualities, then entry into the kingdom isjpurs.

V

"THOU SHALT NOT KILL"
v. 21-24
It has often been noticed with what supreme authority
Christ sets Himself above Moses in this personal
restatement of the law ; in each instance beginning
with " But I say unto you." The advancing of such
claims must have seemed to " the narrow horizon of
contemporary Judaism"1 simply blasphemous; and
was probably one of the elements in Christ's teaching
which led to His death. Thus early in His ministry
does He make a strong demand on the faith of His
hearers. They must have been fairly astonished
at the royal tone adopted by One so lowly in
station, whom they knew as a dweller in their own
land. But the offence was largely mitigated by the
delight of hearing topics of profound interest handled
with masterly power and freshness. St. Chrysostom 2
also draws attention to the significance of the term
" it was said," viz., that the full statement of the
truth would have been more than His hearers could
have borne. » If the words had been "God said to
them of old " or " I said," then the attention
of the Galileans would have been drawn off into
wondering how the Divine utterances can ever need
modifying or restating.-/ In modern times the truth
1 Dalman. 2 Quoted by Alford.
'35

136 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
of the economy of revelation has only been slowly
and painfully learnt, and the exact object of our
Lord's teaching at this minute was to state with the
utmost emphasis the difference between the outward
action which violates the letter of a prohibition and
the inward thoughts which violate it in spirit. V He
thus spares His hearers by lightly passing over a
difficult question connected with the past by fixing
their attention on the present.
But a clear distinction must be drawn between
the mere thoughts of the heart, and the conduct
which our Lord here condemns. In the triple state
ment under consideration we notice that in the first
only is it a question of a bare thought ; the other two
illustrations refer to spoken words., It is true that
both speech and thought were ignored by the
rabbis of the time, who concentrated their atten
tion mainly on outward conduct. But for us the
distinction is important. Christ warns against the
feeling of anger ; then against two spoken expres
sions of anger and contempt. Normally with us
a feeling is intensified and prepared for action by
being put into words, words being the intermediate
stage between thought and action, and though in
civilised life we often stop short of the third stage,
yet we all know that the mere using of words to for
mulate an emotion of hostility is like undergoing
an access of the emotion. Very often we utter our
feelings of this sort in order to gain countenance
for them, and so without understanding what we
are doing we are trying to expose our interlocutor
to the same temptation, and, in short, to make him
partner in the same sin. « These, however, are not
exactly the cases referred to in the text. We are
dealing here simply with the utterance of hostile
feelings directed straight against the object of them.

THOU SHALT NOT KILL 137
And if guilt deepens as feelings are expressed,1^
it deepens also as anger is expressed in terms
of scorn. Both the words which appear in our Bible
respectively as "Raca" and "Thou fool" are terms
of scorn, combining probably the expression of wrath
with that of self-exaltation, this last fact being the
explanation of the additional guilt incurred ; that is,
if anger takes on the feeling of contempt, it becomes
enmity without the least ingredient of love, but mani
festing itself under self-complacency. Scorn implies
a comparison between self and another ; and, more
over, the result of the comparison fosters the idea that
reconciliation is not worth while, thus justifying what
is really a mere succumbing to thoughtless wrath.
But as we read these verses we cannot help asking
how far are we to take literally the words of con
demnation, and why is the warning couched in this
peculiar form, " the judgment— the council— the hell
of fire." This last question has been amply explained
by commentators. A reference to 2 Chron. xix. 5
shows how Jehosaphat "appointed a central court
in Jerusalem and local courts in all the towns." The
former is alluded to in this passage under the term
" council," the latter are called " the judgment." It
seems that a minor offence was tried by the local
courts, a more serious one by the central Sanhedrim,
and the most serious of all were punished by a special
decree under which the corpse was flung out into the
valley of Hinnom, where offal and refuse^ were burnt.
It is, however, difficult to be certain, first, whether
there was a gradation of offences observed in Jewish
usages by the employment of one court or the other ;
secondly, whether, assuming this to be so, we should
be right in graduating the sins spoken of by our Lord
on a scale of increasing guiltiness. It would add
considerably to the clearness of this solemn passage

138 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
if, for instance, we could definitely ascertain that the
sin denoted by the use of the term " Raca " were
less heinous than that alluded to by the expres
sion "thou fool" ; but it is just here where a more
thorough archaeological knowledge is required than
we are able to command. A very probable estimate,
however, of the two spoken words points to something
like a scale of increasing bitterness in the feelings
which find expression. First, the continuous feeling
of wrath, " he that is angry " ; then the scornful word
" Raca " ; then the word of utter abhorrence, not at
all equal to " thou fool," but, according to an ancient
authority, " thou godless one." According to this,
which may be correct, but which cannot be regarded
as certain, man's evil temper towards his brother
may either be simply wrathful, that is, containing
the desire to do him an injury, or contemptuous and
careless of concealing the contempt, or bitterly
scornful to the point of loathing. Of course, the
main point in the teaching is that any one of these
three states of feeling are as guilty as the outward act
of homicide, because they differ from homicide only
in the fact that the opportunity is wanting,ms is the
case, for instance, when hatred cannot safely proceed
to violence in a civilised community.
A further significance, however, is given to the
image by the fact that the penalty of death belongs
to the jurisdiction of the tribunals referred to. The
local courts could put to death with the sword, the
Sanhedrim by stoning, and in aggravated cases the
utter ignominy of the Hinnorn valley was added. We
have therefore indications, first, that the sin of enmity
of feeling against a " brother " is treated by our Lord
as a sin of the utmost gravity ; secondly, that there is
a gradation in the sins mentioned ; proof of this latter
being (a) undoubted progress in guilt between an

THOU SHALT NOT KILL 139
angry thought and an angry word, and (b) the obvious
increase in the gravity of the punishment. Whatever
exact meaning therefore may belong to the word
translated " fool," it differs for the worse from Raca,
probably expressing malevolencetfand loathing as well
as contempt.
Perhaps in no single respect does our conduct fall
so grievously short of the true Christian standard as
in this matter of silent hostility that is nursed and
of scorn that is uttered. We have to consider the
tremendous emphasis of these words in conjunction
with the startling clause in the Lord's Prayer, "As
we forgive those that trespass against us," and the
unique severity of the parable of the Unmerciful'
Servant. We have then to remember how much of
ordinary conversation consists of expressions of dis
dain ; how our desire for being amused is stimulated
in this way; and, further, that it is not uncommon
for the actual words, " I hate so and so," to be used ;
and it can hardly be denied that such talk is symp
tomatic of a profound revolt against the teaching of
Christ when it goes strongly against our natural temper.
The awfulness of the warning is not to be disguised.
And it is necessary for us to be on our guard against
a hasty conclusion that the inward thoughts are
everything and the outward expression nothing.!
There is a clear distinction drawn between bad
thoughts uttered and not uttered, and there is
evidently a peculiar guilt attaching to bad words apart
from the thoughts from which they rise. For it
should be remembered in this connexion that the
solemn warning against blasphemy, against the Holy
Ghost, is a warning about something uttered.
We have here a noteworthy instance of balance in
Christ's teaching. There were two great dangers
which beset any ethical or spiritual instruction

140 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
addressed to the Jewsjin the days when Christianity
was founded. The first was that the words would be
taken literally,ifend an outward obedience substituted
for the living, spontaneous service demanded of the
children of our Heavenly FatherJ' To avoid this,
Jesus couched His precepts in language of the most
telling and arresting vividness, which was the outcome
of His peculiar method of avoiding qualifications, of
saying one things at a time and fixing the whole
attention of His hearers on the single point which He
wanted to emphasise.^ This has often been remarked,
but it is clear that while this method avoided the
danger of encouraging a slavish conformity to out
ward precepts, it threatened the opposite peril of
onesidedness and lack of large consideration of the
manifold facts of life, just as we often notice clear
ness of expression obviously due to narrowness
of vision. Now in the passage before us it was
evidently Christ's object to emphasise the grand
importance of thoughts and feelings as distinguished
from thair. mere manifestationjn outward act. But
yet He never loses sight ofthe Tact that "words, the
outward expression of inner feeling, do, when spoken,
affect and intensify those feelings, and that the sin of
wrathful emotion indulged against a fellow-creature is
made worse by the utterance of the emotion ; and so
the two sides of the truth are presented in perfect
balance^though on first reading the Lord seems to be
bringing out only one. It is perhaps hardly reverent
to use expressions of admiration of the skill shown in
this ; but where can one find elsewhere such a blend
of commanding power, skill, delicacy, and insight,
shown in ethical instruction, which, while it is both
deep and comprehensive, is a model of popular
exposition ?

VI
THE GIFT BEFORE THE ALTAR
V. 22
There can be no doubt about the central injunction
contained in this verse. It is that under certain
conditions a duty towards a " brother " is so urgent'
that it must be allowed to take precedence of a duty
towards God ^/the only thing to avoid is delay. But
what are the conditions referred to, and what is the
exact nature of the obligation ? It is when a man
remembers that his " brother hath aught against
him," some grievance ; and nothing is said to imply
that the grievance must be well founded.^ It may be
a matter of fancy or unreasonable pique ; none the
less the first duty when the facts are remembered is
to be reconciled with all possible speed.
The striking turn given to the sentence is con
tained in the expression " hath aught against thee,"
which alters the injunction from what would have
been expected ; <$ if thou hast done any injury to thy
brother, go and ask his pardon."*/ The question here
is simply what is the brother thinking and feeling
about the person addressed, who is engaged in the
solemn task of offering a sacrifice on God's altar ?
and the words at once suggest a more exacting view
of the duty of brotherly love. / No Christian nowa
days would dispute the obligation to ask for pardon

142 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
after doing an injury ;*but many would feel it quite
unimportant to be reconciled to one who is merely
cherishing a fancied grievance. Indeed, it is often
supposed, or anyhow said, that the wisest and most
dignified way of treating such a case is to leave it
alone. 4 The veriest worldling would recognise that
reprisals or heated rejoinders are contrary to the
principles which he professes, however ready he may
be to excuse such conduct. But for one Christian
to treat the protests and injured tone of another with
calm silence is often held to be a proof of self-
mastery j1*' it is gentleman-like j and while it forbears
to wound, it is consistent with a proper pride.'*/ But
how remote from the spirit of Christ's command ! It
is to be feared that a regard for our dignity is made
the excuse for much disobedience to our Master.'
The picture which He draws of one member of His
kingdom suddenly interrupting his worship of God
just at its most critical, most sacred stage, because he
remembers that a brother has a grievance against
him, need not be pressed in every literal detail any
more than other half-parabolic sayings in the great
Sermon. >« But none the less the main teaching of it
is clearly expressed. When there is a breach be
tween one Christian and another, no matter on
whose side the fault lies, or whether the soreness of
one man be due to the delusions of conceit, then no
regard for personal dignity or the decorums of
religious routine* (and yet our Lord held these in
high reverence), must delay for one moment the
reconciliation which is perhaps not earnestly wished
for by either party, but is nevertheless straightly com
manded by Christ. 4 The brother's feeling of soreness
may be foolish, none the less it must be allayed. <f
The truth is that this injunction connects itself
with the preceding words concerning contempt. A

THE GIFT BEFORE THE ALTAR 143
dignified ignoring of our neighbour's grievance
against us is a contemptuous course of conduct,/
totally at variance with the law of love. / It implies
to others what is very often said, that it is no matter
to us what our brother feels or thinks about us ; we
can afford to despise it.1./ And in this is involved
a comparison between ourselves and our neighbour
which issues, as comparisons frequently do, in self-
exaltation. The Saviour's words are directed against
any such feeling. They enjoin a course of conduct
which must be the outcome of a sincere conviction
that the feelings of our neighbour towards ourselves
— not merely like and dislike, but grievance or sore
ness on account of injury, real or supposed — is all
important ; so much so that the healing of the sore
ness is to be regarded as a duty taking precedence
even of an act of worship due to God.2 ^
Two questions arise at this point. On what
principle is the injunction based ? In other words,
how are we to feel sure that the duty is really of
primacy among other duties ? When we consider
the urgent demands upon us of all kinds of social
need, the poverty, affliction, distress of mind which
call for our help, and require much thought and
energy and self-sacrifice, or the claims of patriotism,
or of private study, of literature, science, art, or
the duty of private and public prayer, and of
spreading the Word of God, then it is hard not
to feel a misgiving that the duty of reconcilia
tion with our neighbour may be over-pressed in
ethical teaching. Is there not something unprac-
1 In international relations it is said that England is unpopular with
other nations because she cares so little to try to make her policy clear to
them by subsidising a foreign newspaper.
3 Not that this particular detail is given us for imitation. There is an
implied rebuke for the duty having been forgotten till so late (Stier).

144 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
tical about it ? Especially if the neighbour is the
victim of a hallucination, are we to forego other
very urgent claims in order to satisfy him that he
has not been ill-used after all ?V We fail to see the
obligation in that it does not appear that the neglect
of this dutyVtor some other of more practical im
portance would make serious difference to anybody.
And, again, it is difficult to understand why this
or any other duty towards our fellow-men should
take precedence of our duty towards God. v It has
often been pointed out that the Scripture view of
the heinousness of sin depends on the degree in
which any particular act or feeling derogates from
the honour due to God. We need only mention
the offence of Moses> of Saul, and of Ahab in the
Old Testament.1 And in the Gospel story what
more signal instance could be given than the promi
nence given to St. Peter's denial ? or the comment
of that apostle on the sin of Ananias ? But in the
passage before us we seem to find the order of
things reversed. It is a question of one of two
duties, the one a rendering of honour to God in
the highest act of worship, the other the making
of an effort to soothe the susceptibilities; — possibly
foolish — of a neighbour. And our Lord decides
emphatically in favour of the latter. -/it should
further be remembered that of all attempts which
we make in ordinary life, none fail more often than
attempts at reconciliation.^ How often they are
completely misunderstood ! and in such cases is not
more harm done than good ? And even when
1 Should it be felt that in some of these cases criticism, by altering
our view of the dates of the narrative, has weakened the force of this
generalisation, it may still be said that even if the truth of the history be
suspected, we have to take into account the icka embodied in the narrative
as handed down,

THE GIFT BEFORE THE ALTAR 145
they succeed, the success is often very partial, and
always costs a great deal of time and trouble.
Finally, says the practical man, when all is done,
is any one really the better ? */
Thus the two questions are closely connected.
The answer will depend on the view we take of our
duty to our neighbour as being really and simply
the consequence of our relation to God. , Our Lord
says elsewhere, " The second (commandment) is like
unto it (the first) : Thou shalt love thy neighbour
as thyself." But if we strive to make clear to our
selves wherein exactly this likeness exists, we shall
find that while its existence as a fact is testified to
by those who have the best right to speak, yet it is
not to be analysed or defined. Yet we can under
stand its nature when we picture to ourselves an
ideal family life, wherein the love of the father for
the children and by the children is all-pervading, so
that each child, learning gradually the intensity of
the father's feeling for each of his brothers, finds it
impossible not to regard that brother with some
thing of the same love.v But he would not be able
to explain why he should love him.1 And, moreover,
he would feel that if he could explain the reason,
nothing would be gained, indeed the mere attempt
to construe his feeling as rational would impair its
power. The moment we fancy that we have found
a reason for loving our neighbour, the reason begins
to shrivel and vanish. It refuses to remain as a
motive of action. Hence the idea that friendly
conduct towards our neighbour conduces to the
1 Cf. for instance, Sidgwick's " Methods of Ethics." Such a book is to
readers, in a certain stage of development, most depressing. But later
they may come to feel that there is something encouraging in the very
barrenness of its conclusions. If the principles of conduct could be
rationalised, they would not satisfy. K

146 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
general happiness, to our own and that of others,
may be, and^doubikss. is. an unassailable truth, but
it is strangely weak as a^basis of conduct. The
more clearly it is discerned and the more positively
it is rnainjaiaecL,, thejeebler is its appeal ; and no
matter how it is stated, it is vitiated by something
of selfistuaess in its very central principle. But, in
fact, the only basis of this friendly, brotherly con
duct towards our fellow-men which will, so to
speak, stand wear and tear, is to be found in some
thing infinite, the love, namely, which God bears
to man. "We love Him because He first loved us,"i
gives the history of Christian motive revealed as in
a spiritual drama. Man answers to that love ; and
his response God-ward, in so far as it is genuine
and the outcome of single-mindedness, is bound to
take on the further characteristic of love to other
men. And so close is the interdependence of the.
two relations that we find the one feeling inevitably
suffers when the other is weakened. ^ In a hundred
subtle ways our considerateness for others depends
for its true vitality on an ever-springing fountain of
love to God deep within the soul. <\f
Evidently this truth bears in a practical way on
much of Christian life, but it must not be con
sidered further here. We have to notice how our
Lord pre-supposes some infinitely deep motive in
this saying, for direct honour paid to God Himself
is here supposed to give way to the claims of
brotherhood. This must be because something is
at stake far deeper than the mere relation of man
with man ; and this we know to be our love to
wards God, which in its turn rests on His love
for us. J
This perhaps indicates the answer to the question
of precedence. It is perfectly true that honour due

THE GIFT BEFORE THE ALTAR 147
to God is habitually given the priority before our
duty to others ; that the glory of God comes first,
the good of men second. But there is in reality
no contradiction of this principle in the sentence
before us. >{ Reconciliation with an offended brother
is not only a re-establishment of pleasant and com
fortable relations tending to smooth the path of life ;
it is the saving of two souYs, a matter with which the
honour of God is vitally connected y We may also
perceive how easily we lose the sense of proportion
in spiritual questions of this kind. It is a fact that
reconciliation succeeding to estrangement does add
to the happiness of life to a remarkable degree.,
And so we languidly acquiesce in Christ's teaching,
hoping that others anyhow will follow it ; but we
disregard the soul-searching severity of the words,
and still more easily the fact that they are based
entirely on sanctions, motives, hopes, and fears
which are not of this world. God's " tender love
towards mankind '^f is revealed in the happiness
which, 4n a general way, follows the establishment
of a right relation with our fellow-men. But if we
make that happiness the rr\gtive for the restoration
of an impaired rglatjpjiy we sully our aspirations
with the taint of selfishness, and deprive our en-
deavours of their only enduring motive and main
spring — the love of God.
But our Lord guards the proportion of the two
ideas of the duty to God and to our neighbour by
the striking command inserted at the end of the
parabolic statement, " and then go and offer thy '
gift." This clause gives us a right to say that
the teaching is concerned not primarily with our
duty to our neighbour, but with the conditions
necessary to true service of God.^ Christ would
have us strain every nerve to maintain the brotherly

148 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
relation to others, because unless it is maintained
our offering to God, of whatever kind this may
be, is rendered useless, y Hence we must not con
clude that, after the great effort has been made,
and the friendliness re-established, our duty is at
an end ; we have now to resume the main purpose'
of life,v since the fatal interruption to it has been
removed. The simplest and perhaps the truest application
of this great principle is seen in the matter of
thanksgiving. It constantly happens that by God's
grace men are enabled, when assaulted by the
powers of evil, to prevail. Some signal victory
over pride has been gained. But the most im
portant part of the whole duty still remains —
that is, the offering of a heartfelt thanksgiving.'
This most essential claim upon us, so widely and
so fatally ignored, is the grand safeguard against
a danger more subtle and deadly even than those
connected with resentment and pride — the danger
of supposing that the conquest has been simply
our own doing. For such is virtually the in
ference drawn by every one who feels no call
to pay the offering of thanksgiving to God when
a moral and spiritual crisis is past. Trainers of
the young have a very grave responsibility here.
It is exceedingly easy to rest quite contented with
having guided "one of these little ones ">f through
a moral crisis, as if good conduct were all that
Christ requires. When this happens, he is power
fully induced to conceive of a spiritual miracle,
his own recovery from sin, as a sign of his own
strength and a result of his own goodness, or of
some human agency. The golden opportunity of
recognising God's handiwork in the moral experi
ence has been presented, and maybe for the last

THE GIFT BEFORE THE ALTAR 149
time in his life ; if it is not taken, a deep delusion
will grow up in the soul, and the estrangement
from God may be increased though the conduct
may improve. The conquest should be a pre
liminary to the one paramount and pervading
claim — the offering of thanksgiving to God.

VII
"AGREE WITH THINE ADVERSARY
QUICKLY"
v. 25, 26
As commonly quoted this injunction is a piece of
worldly wisdom. In St. Augustine's time there
were commentators who so explained it, but he
disdains even to notice their interpretation.1 The
context indeed entirely forbids it. But when we
come to look closely into the words formidable
difficulties appear.
" In the way with him." Ordinarily this phrase
is taken as referring to the Roman practice of the
prosecutor and defendant proceeding together to'
the law court, during which brief interval there
would be a chance of their coming to terms. 1
The Greek, however, cannot mean this. The
phrase translated " agree " means " be kindly dis
posed in feeling," and has somehow to be combined
with the adverb " quickly ."y This fact has been
strangely overlooked.2 But it throws the literal
interpretation of the parabolic simile into con
fusion. If " adversary " be taken to mean the
human adversary with whom there has been a
quarrel, the difference in the feelings of A would
not necessarily affect the behaviour of B, the
1 Trench, " St. Augustine on the Sermon," p. 201.
* e.g. by St. Chrysostom, St. Augustine, Stier, Trench, and Alford.
150

AGREE WITH THINE ADVERSARY 151
adversary, unless it took the form of some out
ward overture. 4" Deliver thee to the judge,"1 ap
parently denotes the suit beginning. / How can
this be prevented if the debt is not paid, as is
certainly implied by the end of verse 26 ? And
when we come to consider the spiritual applica
tion of this phrase, and assume that God is re
presented by the Judge, it is doubtful if any
process can be conceived of which is faithfully
denoted by the words.2
These questions are sufficient to show how little
our Lord cared for the precise correspondence
between the outward setting and the inward truth
signified. It is still not uncommon to find ex
positors of Scripture sorely hampered by the sup
posed necessity of assuming this correspondence
in the case of the parables in the Gospel, whereas
it is wiser, in spite of the fact that in one case
our Lord indicated it Himself, to proceed on a
very different principle of interpretation. It is to
observe that Christ breaks the correspondence
freely and often, but that whenever He does
we are bound to believe that it was done de
signedly to bring out into clear prominence some
moral or religious truth, else we are bound to
attribute it simply to want of skill, which is out
of the question, v
Without aiming, then, at precision in these details,
we may note that the outward picture suggests an
" inward and spiritual " truth, not by correspon-
dence in details, but in virtue of its., general
tone. The grim picture of the deBtor being
1 Translated by Wycliffe, "masterful axer."
2 Trench speaks of this difficulty as "easy of dilution," and, granted that
the figure has to be applied, his suggestion (p. 204) is less violent than
others.

152 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
" delivered over " to the judge first, then to the
" executioner," x then into prison ; what principle
does it illustrate ? Thg^anaw,e.r, -cleanly, JfU^hs^a-
exorable character of . human _law. When once the
machinery is set in motion, it cannot be stopped
till the final catastrophe is reached./ This is the
underlying principle on the one side. On the
other, there is the inference, that before all things
in this matter of dealing with an adversary, delay is
not to be thought of. But in doing what ? We
have no word answering to the " Be reconciled "
of ver. 24. What is meant by " Be kindly dis
posed, quickly " ? If the words are to make good
sense as they stand, some idea of beginning to
change the mind must be imported into them.
They certainly contain no such idea in the original
Greek, and we can only soften the difficulty slightly
by some such paraphrase as this : " There must '
be no delay in entering on a permanent state of
kindly feeling towards thine adversary." It may be
imagined that Christ here spoke colloquially, throw
ing in the word " quickly," though it is in reality
ungrammatical, as a vivid interpolation which was
faithfully rendered from the Aramaic into Greek.
The picture is now very distinctly coloured to re
mind the hearers of the certainty of the course of
law. But an attempt to make the separate items
correspond with facts of the spiritual world is barred
by this further consideration. The parable requires'
that the adversary shall be in the right. But as re- '
gards the duty of forbearance which is being in
culcated, the assumption seems to be different.
A case is suggested when the /adversary or brother
"hath ought against thee " $— when the duty of
1 Even in this instance, that of the Sower, the correspondence only
holds to a certain point. Cf. also the Unjust Steward.

AGREE WITH THINE ADVERSARY 153
reconciliation is just as imperative if the griev
ance be groundless. V Hence it is not safe to go
further than to point out the weighty and forcible
emphasis on the urgency of this duty of setting the
heart right towards any one from whom we are
estranged, 'tf And, whereas the parable would require
that some open overture towards reconciliation be
made, our Lord discards this detail and emphasises
the need of kindly feeling, thus clearly illustrating
a great spiritual truth. The inner feeling masz-he
useless for the adversary, but M it—is— aJJ-HBipiar.tant
in view of the divine Judge.
"TFls'well to notice That this last point, blurred by
the English translation " agree," is of use for prac
tical guidance. Not unfrequently one hears of the
difficulty in a quarrel of knowing what to do to show
forgiveness. Our Lord treats the outward manifest
tation of good feeling as of less importance than the
good feeling itself 4 How strangely we ignore this
in our ordinary life \y It is, like all the injunctions in
the great Sermon, profoundly simple and profoundly
difficult to carry out, because it is purely spiritual.
Men will go through a good deal of exertion to per
form a necessary outward action, but when the
command is for a feeling such as plainly requires
spiritual help forus to gain, we~"are apt to ignore
the claim as being too exacting, y Once more we
see an illustration of the way in which the moral
commands of the Christian religion can only be
seriously considered as within the horizon of prac
tical conduct, if they are accompanied by some
promise or guarantee of spiritual renewal. Our
natural answer to an injunction concerning feelings
is that they are and must be beyond our control.
We admit that the expression of them must be
checked ; but though this admission in reality postu-

154 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
lates an infusion of strength into our being from
some higher source, yet we arbitrarily draw the line
at the outward manifestation.*/ The truth is that both
in the one case and the other experience shows us
our own impotence, but in the spiritual region that
impotence is most evidently a fact. Christ, however,
here as elsewhere, assumes that it is somehow to be
got over. The simplest explanation is that He had
in mind the gift of the Comforter or Strengthener,
through whose aid these glorious moral principles
were to be translated into action.^
The picture of the course taken by human law
forces upon our attention the truth that, in regard
to our duty towards an " adversary," there is a time-
limit beyond which the duty cannot be postponed.
The fact corresponding to this is death, and the
solemn hint is conveyed that after death we shall
no longer be under probation, this being strictly in
conformity to the teaching of Scripture.1 s/Thus we
may further paraphrase the words, " Make it a habit
to be continuously and always well-disposed to your
adversary ; and if you have not begun to school your
feelings in this way, yet begin at once. There is no
time to lose ; death is coming, and, after death, the
judgment." So " in the way with him " may be
taken simply " as long as this is possible for you " ;
but it is always possible, if the command be taken
simply as applying to the feelings without reference
to actual overtures for reconciliation ; and this inter
pretation will not be disturbed by the practical diffi
culties which often occur in the way of reconciliation,
such as the severance of the two parties, or the in
accessibility of one of them owing to other causes.
Thus " in the way " may almost be taken as " in the
1 Vide Gayford, "The Future State." Oxford Church Text-Books
chap. iii.

AGREE WITH THINE ADVERSARY 155
pilgrimage of life " ; but it is perhaps preferable to
conceive of the expression as the point in the saying
where the parabolic figure intrudes itself, and this
figure holds its ground till the end, when, as we shall
see, it is partly displaced by the urgency of the spiri
tual application. If this be conceded, then there is
no necessity for seeking a spiritual significance for
the expressions " deliver thee to," nor " the judge,"
nor " the officer," nor " the prison." These will be
held to have been inserted simply for the sake of
greater vividness, and marvellously they succeed in
their object, if only the analytical interpretation be
not pushed too far.
" Verily I say unto thee, Thou shalt by no means
come out thence till thou hast paid the uttermost
farthing." This is a terrific saying ; but it is to be
noticed that its terror depends largely on whether
Christ went out of His way, so to speak, in introduc
ing it, or was merely describing an ordinary usage of
Roman law.V If the latter, then the meaning would
be, " You know that imprisonment for debt under
Roman law lasts until full payment is made ; in other
words, is often perpetual. This is the normal issue
of the process which begins with the adversary haling
the debtor before the judge in mundane affairs. In
the spiritual kingdom the law will similarly take its
course on to the end."V But clearly there is no affir
mation here of what the end in the latter case — the''
spiritual — will be. >f Now if, on the other hand, there
was no such practice in Roman law in Palestine,
then Christ once more abruptly quits the outward
figure in order to enunciate a spiritual truth which
1 Certainly not Jewish law, which, as regards punishment for debt, was
very lenient. ( Vide Edersheim's " Sketches of Jewish Social Life," p. 212.
On p. 56 there is a very interesting sketch of the system of farming out
the taxes by the Equites, who were also judges.)

156 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
otherwise would be blurred or omitted altogether ;
and, awful though this conclusion is, it is rendered
probable by the introductory word Amen = Verily.
Such an arresting word in the middle of a descrip
tion of commonplace fact would be entirely out of
place. Nor is there evidence to show that in Pales
tine at that time the Jews could have become
acquainted with any such procedure as an impri
sonment for debt till the debt was paid. Everything
goes to show that in our Lord's parabolic sayings
the spiritual meaning is always close to the surface,
and easily breaks through the crust of imagery with
which it is partly veiled. The figures are chosen
with perfect freedom, sometimes altered, sometimes
omitted ; occasionally, as here, so expressed that
they seem to be giving only the outward picture,
till on a sudden the naked spiritual truth shoots'
forth with scarcely a word of metaphor to palliate
its soul-searching severity. It is not possible to
imagine any form of teaching better adapted to
arrest attention, live in the memory, and penetrate
the hard shell of man's indifference with the mes
sage of the issues of life, death, and judgment to
come. \j

VIII
THE LAW OF ADULTERY
v. 27, 28
The impression that many readers and hearers of
these verses take away is that our Lord here states
a sin of thougJit-AQL-he as bad as one of action./ It
is quite true that this is involved in the saying, but,
accurately speaking, it is a condemnation of an act,
not of a thought. Looking is an act ; and the reason
why it is condemned is that it is done with a certain
purpose, viz. to inflame a natural desire. When once
that act has been committed with this intention of
kindling a certain desire, then the sin is in reality
the same as if the desire had been gratified by a
criminal act. •$
We should be careful to notice that here is no
question whatever of a thought being condemned for
the practical reason that it is likely to lead to action.
" He hath already (or " there and then ") committed
adultery." These words obviously mean that, in
point of guiltiness, when once the process in the
human mind has gone on to the point that a desire
for what is unlawful has been voluntarily and suc
cessfully inflamed, then the act which gratifies the
desire adds nothing to the sin. ^So that it is com
pletely irrelevant to point out, as is often done, by
way of warning to others, that thoughts sooner or
later lead to action. >/ Such axioms have their use in

158 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
a different context (James i. 16), but as explanations
of this text are misleading.
Nor again is the simple desire condemned. The
desire for sexual union is a natural desire, and a
great deal of false and mischievous sentiment has
grown from the failure to recognise quite clearly this
fact. But when we say that it is a natural desire, we
have by no means exhausted the subject ; rather we
have only begun to state a problem of conduct, for
the question at once arises, in what way are we to
treat this and other desires ? Are they to be re
pressed, or stimulated, or ignored, or gratified with
out being stimulated ? and so on. There are clearly
many questions that might be put. Here our Lord
only deals directly with one. The needless and inten-'
tional stimulation of such desires, or, anyhow, of this,
particular desire, is condemned as on a par with the
direct violation of one of the Ten Commandments. "4
But it may be said that the epithet " natural " is
misplaced. Is not our Lord dealing with the subject
of a breach of the matrimonial law, and so the desire
that is here condemned is a desire for a criminal
gratification ? This we believe to be erroneous. The
Jewish law dealt only with the breach of the marriage
bond, and "Thou shalt not commit adultery" meant
a prohibition of union between any married man and
any woman other than his wife, also between any
married woman and any man other than her husband.
Christ lays down that this prohibition is vastly too
narrow for the members of the new kingdom.
They, as men, are faced with a problem of special
urgency. In the course of passing from childhood
to manhood they become conscious of desires natu
rally growing in them, with the implanting of which
they have had nothing to do. These desires press
with imperious force for gratification, but if wisely

THE LAW OF ADULTERY 159
guided and trained by an instructed will may inspire
feelings of wholesome chivalry towards the other sex ; '
if not, they may crave for unlawful satisfaction.
That is the position with which Christ deals, and
according to His usual practice of selecting one
definite fact as an illustration of a law, He sternly
condemns one method of treating these desires, viz.,
the intentional excitement of them by the use of the
eye.^This is indeed a wonderful and most striking
expansion of the Jewish law, and lays down a prin
ciple which, when properly understood, is of capital
importance in regard to many questions of conduct.
A little knowledge of our Lord's methods of teaching
gives us the conviction, that whereas the principle
appears to be confined to one set of individuals, we
are justified in extending it far and wide. The text
speaks of men only ; we apply it to women, and we
ought to apply it to boys and girls, y tf Moreover,
instead of one desire it includes all desires common
to humanity which are not to be treated as sinful
in themselves, nor to be ignored, nor suppressed,
but curbed and guided, and in any case never to be
needlessly excited.1
1 It may be objected that this treatment of the subject is too general,
and that in the text the prohibition is only directed against desire inflamed
towards a particular individual. This opens up the question what indi
vidual is meant, and we are cautioned by Matthai (Stier, p. 128) that,
with a view to marriage, looking and desiring are inevitable and justifiable.
But the whole question of what woman is meant by the unarticulated word
yvpaiKa is superfluous if we clearly recognise that the instance given is to
illustrate a wide principle ; and even so the words iras 6 and 71/caoca set
forth the command in as broad a fashion as can well be. It is true that
Christ is not dealing here with the exact question of conduct of a man
towards the woman he either is going to marry or has married. But it
would be a disastrous mistake to suppose (as unfortunately it often is) that
this one relation of human life is exempt from the principle laid down in
the text. Matthai and Stier deal very crudely with this delicate question.
It is not true that, with a view to marriage, a man ought to " look in order
to desire." The love of one sex for the other which has been recognised

160 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
There is further something very striking about the
particular manner of exciting the desire which our
Lord selects for condemnation. There are many
others, such as reading the wrong books, or hearing
bad suggestions, going into dangerous surroundings,
and so forth. These are passed by, the disciple
being trusted to beware of them himself. The one
selected is, prima facie, far less guilty than many
others. In itself, the looking upon a beautiful
human form or face may be an act which fills the
soul with thoughts of worship of God the Creator.!
The most beautiful and fascinating of our organs,
the eye, is employed in gathering impressions of that
which in all ages has been looked on as an almost
adorable phenomenon — human beauty. V Think what
the Greeks thought of human beauty, and what they
have taught us in their monuments of it ! Think
again what science has taught us about the eye ;
not only its adaptability to its surroundings, but
its age-long development and the mystery of its
organism. And perhaps more marvellous than all
are its limitations. We are told that only certain
rays of light can be seen by the eye ; there are
probably countless rays which strike the retina, but
are not perceived. If they could all be suddenly
perceived, every single object we contemplate would
and hallowed by the Church is a complex thing, as it affects the whole
complex human nature, with its sensuous and its spiritual activities. In
its highest form this love is far more spiritual than sensuous, and any
stimulating of the sensuous would, normally, be to the detriment of the
spiritual element, and to the degradation of the whole feeling. But the
"looking" spoken of in the text is a stimulating of the sensuous element,
and in the case supposed would encourage the animal side of men's being
at the expense of the spiritual. The stimulating of the spiritual activity
would be not by " looking," but by communion of mind, which, of course,
would be innocent. Moreover, it would be truer to say that a healthy
passion of love is not stimulated by "looking," nor is dependent on it,
but rather precedes it.

THE LAW OF ADULTERY 161
suddenly present a totally different appearance. /The
glory of a beautiful object is therefore due quite as
much (as far as we know) to the limitations of our
vision as to its powers.1/ Those very limitations mean
that there is a selection of rays of light. Without such
selection we can hardly suppose that all the beautiful
things in nature would remain so. tf There is, in short,
an unspeakably wonderful correspondence between
the machinery of the eye and that most glorious of
all objects of beauty, a human being in whom the
soul and the vital powers express themselves with a
natural harmony, so as to tell upon the beholder's
mind, through the intricate mechanism of the eye,
the nerves, and the brain ; and in telling upon the
mind it brings to its consciousness thoughts of things
celestial, and promptings of some life not lived on
earth, as if the soul were suffused with a divine
radiance. This is what the contemplation of beauty
may be. But when it is inspired by a particular
motive, not all the wonder of the powers brought
into play, or of the impressions stirred, saves it from
the verdict of the Judge : " He hath already com
mitted adultery with her in his heart." The words
teach that no matter how supreme, nay, how trans
cendent man's powers may be, when they are^
employed for lawlessness the guilt is the guilt of
a common, coarse sin, and meets with unsparing
severity from the Saviour's judgment.
Enough has been said to show the prominence of
the main idea of this verse (28), viz., the guilt of
intentional kindling of desires. But there is a
subsidiary thought of great importance and some
obscurity. The sentence ends with the words " in
his heart," and on these rests the ordinary inter
pretation that the thought of a crime cherished in
the mind is as bad as a crime committed. This may be
L

162 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
true, but (as far as this verse goes) only if certain ante
cedents have taken place, viz., the intentional stimulus,
Supposing, for instance, it were asked if the thought of
a crime came unbidden to the mind, and was there
harboured for a time, would that be as guilty conduct
as the commission ? The answer would be : " Prob
ably ; but this verse does not pronounce upon exactly
that question. Harbouring an unlawful desire is notthe
same thing as intentionally stimulating a desire which
may or may not be lawful, by gathering, so to speak,
fuel for it from outside. Christ only says that if this
sort of stimulus is applied the guilt then is the same."'
On the other hand, the evil of the stimulus is
shown by its effect, not upon the outward actions,
but on the thoughts>f and so we are undoubtedly
taught the very great importance attached by our Lord
to thoughts as distinct from outward acts.
It is to be noticed that if we adopt the ordinary
classification the latter have to do with sins against
man, the former against oneself, or against God. It
is true that this distinction is vain, and yet the sub
ject has interest, since our inclinations are to rate
sins by their consequences, and in ordinary talk
there is little said about them from any other point
of view. But what consequences, in the ordinary
sense of the word, are attached to a sin of thought?'
A common answer would be that if evil thoughts are
indulged in they lead to evil actions, and so prone are
we to forsake our Lord's estimate that we habitually,
and for the most part unconsciously, invest the out
ward act with far greater heinousness and gravity
than the inward thought 1* and, indeed, try to trace
the importance of these solely to their tendency to
be translated into action. But our Lord's words
expressly exclude this interpretation : " He hath
already committed adultery in his heart,"4can only

THE LAW OF ADULTERY 163
mean "before any action has taken place." It is a
truism to remark that in this pungent and penetrating
saying Christ shifted the estimate of sin among man
kind from the outward and visible to the inward and
spiritual region.1/ But we generally ignore the pro
found significance of this change. An outward action
has its effects on society, and it is always possible to
bring it under condemnation as a violation of our
duty to our neighbour,, if it tends in any way to his
injury. And such was the old Jewish condemnation
of adultery. V It was a violation of the claim of one
member of a community on another. But on what
ground was the new sin of adultery to be con
demned ? Could it be said that B, C, and D are
in any way injured by an unclean thought in the
mind of A ? The injury would be so remote and
indirect and uncertain, that we may at once put aside
all humanitarian or social reasons for condemnation,
in spite of the fact that we seldom or never refer to
any others in our ordinary verdicts on men's conduct.
The only ground for this verdict of Christ's is that
the sin of thought is a sin against the divine in man.
JJiataa^jSatL, The voluntary stimulating of desire
towards the forbidden thing is in itself an act of
rebellion, and the guiltiness of this conduct is thus
found to consist in its breach of the relation of
sonship tqGod.y'The subject, therefore, is strictly
relevant to the earlier part of the discourse, wherein
were set forth the conditions of membership in God's
'kingdom, or, in other words, the claims on man of
sonship to his Heavenly Father.1
1 There is a most interesting analogy between this principle and that
which determines the ethical character of gambling. In both cases we have
to deal with an instinct which is practically universal, and of which the
sudden disappearance would bring human life, as we know it, to an abrupt
termination — the desire for sexual union, and the desire of getting, or of
gain. The first conduces to the reproduction of life, the second to its

164 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
preservation ; both are fundamentally necessary to the continuance of the
human race. But a very large part of the science of conduct deals with
questions concerning the regulation of these desires, since it is evident that
each issues in indescribable mischief, if uncontrolled. And the tone adopted
in the Gospel on these two subjects is of uncompromising severity. The
two desires must be ruthlessly subordinated to the law of the fulfilment of
God's will ; they must never be first, and it is clearly recognised that the
placing of them in subordination, and keeping them there, will involve
pain. Now, just as in our text, the crime against God consists in a
flat violation of this principle ; in other words, in stimulating instead of
curbing a natural desire ; so in gambling there is a stimulating of the
instinct for gain. Our duty towards God is invariably found, when faith
fully performed, to be identical with our highest duty towards ourselves.
Hence there is nothing surprising when we find that the violation of the
duty of curbing natural instincts produces effects on character which are
simply disastrous.
But if we are guided by the text we shall refrain from adopting this as
the ground of our objection to gambling or to lust. Our Lord thinks it
sufficient to point to the spiritual sin of defiance, quite irrespective of the
result in action, and therefore it is no answer to this objection to gambling
to say that many people practise it without going on to cheat or steal
money. The same might be said of the sin denounced in our text, that
very often no outward visible action follows. The sin in both cases is
that a divine law pronounces quite distinctly how we ought to behave
towards certain propensities with which we are born ; and, knowing
this, we disobey the law by taking the opposite course. The after con
sequences help us to see the justification of the law, but should be kept
quite apart from the sin.
So far, the parallel between the two cases is exact. But there is this
difference : The sin denounced in the text is more easily seen to be wrong,
because, on the whole, illicit unions between the sexes are condemned by
public opinion, and the particular act spoken of is the first step towards an
outward violation of law in the case of a particular person, whereas in gamb
ling the stimulus to the instinct is in general and unconnected with a possibly
resulting injury to a particular individual. But it requires no great effort
of reflection to see that this distinction means very little. And granted,
also, that there is something more hideous in the case of the sin of
impurity, that ' should not blind us to the immensely greater severity of
tone adopted by Christ towards sins of defiance of God, and selfishness (in
the ordinary sense), as compared with the sins of the flesh. The true
criterion of sinfulness is the extent to which an act, or a thought, is a
defiance of God's known law.
One more point of parallelism may be noticed. When duly controlled
the sexual instinct may be obeyed wholesomely, so long as it is in close
connexion with the designed reproduction of life, or with the maintenance
of the conjugal relation. So the instinct for gain may be wholesomely
obeyed so long as it is not dissevered from work and labour. In both
cases, as soon as there is such a severance, evil is encouraged.

IX
PLUCKING OUT THE EYE AND
CUTTING OFF THE HAND
v. 29, 30
Our Lord's method of vividness in teaching is ad
mirably shown here. So also is His practice of so
wording His exhortations that not even the most
rabbinically-minded of His hearers could suppose
that the command was to be obeyed literally. For
the words "right eye," "right hand," are by themselves
enough to prove this. The injunction is connected
verbally with the previous verse, in which the sinful
act spoken of was an act of looking. The warning
therefore apparently concerns the organ of sight
first, and then goes on to include the organ of
action, the hand. But why only the right eye ? ^ If
it were only a question of danger connected with
the power of seeing it would be necessary to pluck
out both eyes, since the retention of the left eye
would mean that the temptations to misuse the
faculty of sight would continue. Obviously, there
fore, the word is thrown in for the double purpose
of vividness and of showing that there is no
rnjestion here of .literal obedience.lf
Patent also to view is the reason of the choice of
these two members. They are those which in popular
Pistitriatinn afford thr mnst perffeqtjndira^
Creator's skilL Doubtless, this estimate would be dis-
16S

166 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
putable if we considered the other members of the
body scientifically. But it is quite sufficient for Christ's
purpose that, as ordinarily thought of, the eye is the
most beautiful of all our organs, and shares with the
hand a primacy in point of perfection of workman
ship. Added to which the particular mutilation of
the body here spoken of, would not only be a
peculiarly savage and unnatural marring of the
human frame, but would deprive it at once of its
principal powers of acting on its surroundings. We
constantly speak of the marvellous interaction of
hand and eye in all swift and delicate operations and
activities ; and the bare notion of the owner of these
most wonderful living mechanisms, rudely and ruth
lessly plucking out the one and hacking off the other,
fills one with an indescribable sense of the rough
power of the image employed, and we feel also the
need of taking into account, in our interpretation of
the passage, these special features of the figure.
We gain at this point some useful light on the
question of the principles of interpreting the para
bolic sayings of Christ. Abundantly clear though it
may be that His precept is not to be thought of
as requiring literal obedience, we should yet miss a
great deal of its meaning if we did not take full
account of the characteristics of the outward setting
of the spiritual or moral truth conveyed. If it is not
meant that we are to pluck out the eye, then why is
the eye mentioned, and what further significance is
given by the mention of the hand ? In answering
these questions we begin to see the truth underlying
the expression.
A human life deprived of hand and eye would be
grievously incomplete as compared with another in
possession of these organs in full working order.
They are surpassingly useful in the conduct of life.

PLUCKING OUT THE EYE 167
And so we are brought full upon, the broad meaning
of the whole injunction, that in our time of probation
on earth it is comparatively unimportant whether
our lives are complete ; Vthat is, fully furnished for
all kinds of acting upon our surroundings in the
joyous plenitude of vigour and receptivity. The
really important thing is that they should be
safe, VShort of actually destroying life we could
hardly go further than such, a mutilation of it as is
here enjoined ; in other words, a human life marred,
crippled, and horribly disfigured, but safe, is better
than one which is fair to view and richly equipped,
and in full vigour of health and activity, but exposed
to deadly danger. We find this very difficult to
believe,, and even if we arrive at believing it, we find
that to do anything towards the carrying of it out in
practice is perhaps more difficult still.
It will be well to set out the meaning in a some
what different light from that indicated by these
words, in the hope that, as there is in the saying an
obvious appeal to our self-interest, we should expect
the significance to be not very hard to understand.
" It is better for thee " — -when and where ? in the next '
world or in this ? At first sight we should say in
the next world, according to a somewhat indolent
method of dealing with many of Christ's sayings,
which assumes that in the heavenly life all the most
startling paradoxes in the Gospel teaching will some
how or other be made true. But it is probable that
the inclination so to treat this and similar sayings,
such as that of the dying of the seed (John xii. 24) and
the losing of the life (Mark viii. 35), arises from the
difficulty under which we permanently labour in
conceiving of the action of the divine Spirit on the
world of ordinary experience.
1 Gore, " Sermon on the Mount," in loc.

168 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
For the question may be stated thus : how can we
suppose that any life is the better for being violently
marred and restricted ? There is among us, especi
ally in modern England, an almost passionate desire
for a complete life ; a life of complete self-expression
and of ample fulfilment of all natural endowment.
Such a desire is commonly taken as a certain indica
tion of a lofty and ardent nature, and we foster it in
those whom we love, looking forward to its bearing
a noble fruit as it grows more intense. But we
forget that as commonly conceived of such a hope
is impossible. If we try to imagine a complete
earthly life, we fail ; the thing is unthinkable ; 1 since
in whatever department of life we make the attempt,
the more vividly we picture ourselves as arriving at
a goal, the more vividly clear it becomes that the
arrival, if it ever comes about at all, will be only the
beginning of fresh dissatisfaction. This theme has
been handled by countless writers, and accordingly
we seem to be barred from one of the three alter
natives presented to us in regard to the question of
how best to plan our lives. We may either strive
towards the fullest expansion of our powers, or we
may neglect them, or, thirdly, we may train them
as carefully as possible, but yet go out of our way
to deprive them, perhaps with harshness or even
violence, but anyhow decisively, of the means of
their manifestation in a way that at the time pro
mises nothing whatever but loss. Of these three
ways of ordering our lives, the first seems to be
vitiated by the fact that it is a kind of grasping at a
phantom. Something must be wrong with a plan
of life which means aiming at completeness, when
the only possible result must be either failure to
reach it or profound dissatisfaction after doing so.
1 Cf. Browning's "Easter Day," Part II.

PLUCKING OUT THE EYE 169
Nor can we subscribe to the second of the alter
natives, knowing full well that neglect means death,
and shrinking from death with a horror that seems
more active to-day than ever before since the days
of the ancient Greeks. Thus we are thrown back
on the third which our Lord enjoins ; so that we
may perhaps feel that there must be, in theory at
least, a great deal, perhaps everything, to be said for
its adoption. The difficulty therefore consists not
in this alternative being enjoined, but in the unspar
ing thoroughness with which the principle is to
be applied. We do not mind the principle, but
consistency in such a matter is nothing short of
terrifying. An excellent illustration of the principle, thoroughly
carried out, is given by the conduct of the supremely
great singer, Jenny Lind. It is well known that she
renounced quite suddenly all her triumphant sway
over the emotions of multitudes by ceasing to sing
in public because she felt that there was something
in the inebriation of such success which unfitted her
for fixing her thoughts on higher things. No one
can measure the immediate loss, not only to herself,
but to masses of our countrymen ; and to many
such conduct may well appear not only need
less, but downright wrong. And yet, like all other
examples of what is called other-worldliness, it irre
sistibly provokes admiration when the motive is
known. The same act, if done from a wish for ease,
would be unreservedly condemned as a breach of
the law of stewardship, whereby the possessor of
a talent is bound to use it. But the motive was
simply to secure an opportunity for service of God
uninterrupted by the glamour of successful service
to man. This may be represented, of course, as
selfishness ; the desire for self-edification gratified at

170 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
the expense of thousands of fellow-creatures. It is
noteworthy, however, that mere self-edification is not
really the motive. The true motive of all the highest
conduct is godly, not selfish, though in acting on it
the interests of self are triumphantly assured.
At. first sight our text seems to be, so to speak,
more on an earthly plane, and removed from the
association with such lofty motives as the desire for
unimpeded godly service. Not so in reality. " If
thine eye offend thee." This word implies the
placing of impediment in the way of some one
moving forwards. But what kind of moving is
intended to be designated ? Not, probably, the
journeying, which is a common figure employed, but
the active motions of one employed in moving from
one place to another on service.
Other aspects of the duty spoken of are these.
The eye and hand would be figures denoting all
sorts of resources, endowments, and blessings of life,
ordinarily not only innocent but indispensable, and;
ornamental^ but such as may under some circum
stances become impediments to our highest activities.
Health is one of these, so also wealth and the pos
session of friends. The really interesting and
difficult question arises in connexion with the fact
that what Christ enjoins is the merciless voluntary
cutting off of these other beautiful appurtenances of
life. They are under some circumstances to be cut
off and thrown away,1 as pestiferous elements in our
being, such as if left alone would spread as it were
a spiritual blood poisoning. What sort of circum
stances are these ?
This question does not concern what is known as
fasting, nor, exactly, any form of voluntary asceticism.
We can defer that difficult matter till we come to
1 This is well brought out by Stier.

PLUCKING OUT THE EYE 171
vi. 16,. only remarking here that, there are certain
elements in fasting which are not touched at all by
this command, such as, for instance, its social and
ceremonial use. And asceticism properly means a
continuous discipline of life with a view to the
greater health of our whole being ; whereas if health
be taken as one of the endowments hinted at, we
have to think under what circumstances are we
voluntarily or decisively to cut ourselves off from
health as from something which has become a
source of peril and disease to the whole system.
This and similar questions can only be touched
upon: in the briefest way. Physical health can never
by itself become an " offence " to the follower of
Christ ; yet few infirmities are so absorbing and so
weakening as valetudinarianism ; and the moment
that bodily health is allowed to take the first place
in consideration, there begins a disorder in life and a
want of proportion which may end in the most utter
havoc. This must be prevented by health conside
rations being, at times, rudely flouted, when they
conflict with the fulfilment of spiritual or moral
requirements. But so as to avoid fanaticism ; e.g.,
people who assume that physical needs (often
imaginary) form an unassailable objection to the
performance of duty, either towards God or man,
such as divine service in church, or visiting, the sick,,
are far from acting on the Saviour's injunction. On
the other hand, overwork and bodily collapse are
often the results of a foolish aiming at completeness,
the very thing forbidden by the text. We find,, in
short, that the command, when we faithfully try to
fulfil it, requires always divine guidance. Had we
no belief in such guidance its value for us would
almost disappear.
Likewise the rich and fascinating endowments of

172 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
a love of literature, of art, society, and nature, are
to be dealt with. Each individual must judge for
himself how his " true and laudable service " of God
is affected by indulgence in these tastes. If, as is
probable, something of a conflict between the two
is at times inevitable, he must see to it that the
claims of service suffer no abatement whatever, but
are decisively and always recognised as paramount.
And further, we are bidden, when once the antagonism
between the pursuit of such pleasures and the doing
of duty is perceived, not to relinquish the pleasures
gradually or reluctantly, but instantly to fling them
away as if they were hateful to us ; as if, in spite of
the glory and the glamour with which they are
invested, they were in fact both loathsome and
dangerous. Why? Because all that is most dazzling
about them, most winning, most uplifting, most
inspiring, even all that tells us most about God
Himself, becomes totally insignificant when once
they are seen to be a hindrance in the way of our
doing God's will.
The teaching is profoundly characteristic of our
Lord's method in two respects, (a) It says nothing
as to how and when the principle is to be applied,
though those are just the questions to which man
in his natural indolence most desires an answer.
(b) As judged by reference to the ideas of human
life, which we call natural or conventional, and
which seem most widely prevalent, such teaching
would be not only exaggerated, but absurd.
Again, the " casting away " denotes that there is to
be no thought of resumption. But how often double-
mindedness makes people begin a sacrifice without
carrying it through, while they hanker after what
seems to be lost, like the ploughman who looks
back. It is doubtful if a half-hearted renunciation

PLUCKING OUT THE EYE 173
is not worse than none at all. The injunction, in
short, points towards a pruning of the vine of life's
endowments, which ofttimes is done by God for us,
but sometimes is to be done by ourselves, and always
with gladness, because the loss is only temporal and
apparent, the gain eternal.

X

THE TEACHING OF CHRIST ABOUT
DIVORCE
v. 3J» 32
[The following chapter is reprinted, with the consent of the Editors, from
the Journal of Theological Studies. It is less ethical and homiletic than
the rest of the book, being little more than an attempt to give the exact
meaning of the four passages in the Gospels which deal with Divorce.]
The object of this paper is to determine (i) the
difference in sense in poiye'ia (and the allied words)
in the New Testament, and " adultery " in our English
modern use of the word. (2) How far modern
ecclesiastical legislation is based on Christ's teaching.
(3) Whether any light is thrown by these verses on
the composition of the Sermon.
In order to appreciate the difficulty of seizing the
meaning of Christ's teaching on this subject, it is
advisable to range the versions of the principal sen
tence side by side x (R.V.).
1 I have thought it best to leave questions of textual criticism on one
side, for the reason that where the principal MSS. differ the main drift of
the teaching is not seriously modified : e.g. when B omits the words of the
T. R. in Matt. xix. 9 ko\ yap^irv SX\nv, Dr. Gore is surely right in saying
(" Sermon on the Mount," p. 216) that the sense remains the same. There
remains, however, the kind of criticism which would delete the important
excepting-clause in the two Matthew passages, A and B, on grounds of
unsuitability. One of the most recent critics, Prof. Bacon ("The Sermon
on the Mount," p. 177), says the words are "certainly a gloss," and
appeals to the authority of Luke and to the general principle that Jesus
"refuses to occupy the seat of the law-giver or magistrate in the imper
fect conditions of the world": and that "the exception irapenrbs \6yov
iropveias transforms the principle" (i.e. of an ideal standard) "into a rule,
and involves Jesus in the rabbinic debate between the schools of Shammai
'74

THE TEACHING ABOUT DIVORCE 175

Matt. v. 32.
A.

But I say unto
you that everyone
that putteth away
his wife, saving
for the cause of
fornication, mak
eth her an adul
teress; and who
soever shall marry
her when she is
put away com
mitteth adultery.

Matt. xix. 9.
B.

And I say unto
you, Whosoever
shall put away
his wife, except
for fornication,
and shall marry
another, commit
teth adultery;
and he that mar-
rieth her when she
is put away com
mitteth adultery.

Mark x. n, 12.
C.

Whosoever shall
put away his wife,
and marry an
other, committeth
adultery against
her. And if she
herself shall put
away her hus
band and marry
another, she com
mitteth adultery.

Luke xvi. 18.
D.

Every one that
putteth away his
wife and marrieth
another commit
teth adultery ;
and he that mar
rieth one that is
put away from a
husband commit
teth adultery.

It is plain from the wording of all four passages
that there are certain important aspects of the sub
ject of marriage with which our Lord is not dealing.
He says nothing about the obligation to strict .fidelity,
as it is technically called, nor of the general principles
of conduct which should be observed by married
people towards each other. The theme of His teach
ing is the permissibility or not of divorce a vinculo :
Le. not mere separation, but separation so complete
that the marriage contract is wholly null and void,
and both parties are free to marry again. And the
general sense to be gathered from all four passages
is that Christ in the main reverts to the stricter view
of this question which " hath been from the begin-
and Hillel." The grounds of this distinction are not clear. In laying
down the unqualified principle of the indissolubility of marriage, Jesus
repealed and abrogated human divorce laws, and what is that but legislat
ing ? Again, the exception is, I admit, a piece of legislation : but it is
also the affirmation of a principle, vir. that the divine ordinance of matri
mony is only abrogated by one particular sin. Even if this last remark be
disputed, it remains that those who wish to divest our Lord's teaching of
all legislative element must cut out vers. 31, 32, and parallels altogether.
In the same page Prof. Bacon approves of Wendt's substitution of the
Lucan reading potxeiei (in xvi. 18) for iroiei abr'tpi poix^rfai, on the
ground that it is simpler. Certainly it is : but in the absence of any
textual reason to the contrary, the more difficult reading is to be preferred.

176 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
ning," viz. that the marriage contract can never be
as if it had not been, nor can the parties to it
look upon themselves as wholly absolved from its
obligation, except in the case when the wife has
been guilty of infidelity, when it is implied that the
husband is free. This exception is given by A and
B, not hinted at by C and D.
The phraseology of A requires close attention. At
first sight it seems to contain more than one impos
sible statement. Apparently a , woman is made an
adulteress not by the commission of the sin of for
nication after marriage, but by being put away for
trivial reasons ; and the questions force themselves
on the reader (1) is she any the less an adulteress if
she is divorced for the grave reason ? (2) if she is
divorced for a trivial reason, why is the guilt hers
and not her husband's ?
The explanation depends partly on the modern
restricted use of the word " adultery " compared
with the Greek word which it renders in the Gospels.
In all the four passages given above noi-^evw (or the
kindred forms of the verb) means to violate the
marriage bond without any reference to the definite
act of post-nuptial fornication, which is denoted in A
and B by iropve'ta. But our word " adultery " is re
stricted to the one way of violating the bond, which
in A and B is called fornication, and hence the
English rendering is very confusing. As a matter of
fact, excluding John viii. 3, there is no passage in
the New Testament where the words ixot-^ela, u.oi)(os,
and (Loiyevu) necessarily refer at all to the sinful act
(iropve'ta) except, strangely enough, ver. 28 of this
chapter, just before our passage.1 In A, B, C, D the
1 This statement, as far as I can determine, is strictly accurate. If John
viii. 3 is included in the writings of the Evangelists, the word adultery (the
noun and the verb) must be taken in its modern compound sense of sin

THE TEACHING ABOUT DIVORCE 177
meaning of adultery is simply such ignoring of the
bond as a man is guilty of who formally puts away
his wife and regards himself as unconnected with her
by any contract. B, C, and D state hypothetical
cases in which the man manifests this view of the
situation by marrying again : and the sin of adultery
consists in his treating the original contract as null
and void when it is not. The word for " to put
away" does not mean simply to send out of the
house to live apart, but to divorce formally under
the impression that the first contract is thereby
against marriage consummated in a particular act. In classical Greek the
verb and noun are used occasionally as synonyms of iropveioj and iropvela
(cf. Aristophanes, Pax, 958). But for the most part the usages of these
words seem to apply indifferently to iropvela and what we term adultery
(so Liddell and Scott). May not the sense given in the New Testament,
which always covers the breaking of the marriage bond, be an indication
of the reverence felt for marriage ? The exact difference between the three
uses I would mark thus :
Moixc'a (classical Greek), the sin of the flesh : properly by one married.
Adultery (modern English), the sin of the flesh : certainly by one
married. Motx^a (N. T. ), violation of the marriage bond by the sin of the flesh or
otherwise. But it is important to remark further that in all the Gospel uses of the
words poixa-M-s, p-oixairBai, poixeta, poixdeiv, except two, the idea of the
sin of the flesh is not necessarily included, the meaning being simply that
of violation of the bond. The two passages are John viii. 3 (4) and Matt.
v. 28. The former has been dealt with. In the latter the word /*oixei5w
either = vopveiia, or the modern "adultery," and the question depends on
whether the woman spoken of is supposed to be another's wife (so Zahn
emphatically, p. 233 ; B. Weiss, p. 114 ; Stier, p. 128, vol. i., but dubiously,
in a qualified and confused note followed by Alford). This is hardly
doubtful. The whole passage is on the sin of adultery, not fornication,
and though ethical precepts against the latter may be gathered from the
passage (see Stier) by inference, the meaning of the word /iotxeio> is to be
settled by the plain sense with which v. 27 begins. Also there is the
whole difference as regards the truth of the prohibition in the one case
and the other. Human love is necessarily complex, and the animal ele
ment cannot be wholly excluded from the lawful passion of a man for a
maid. But if ywaiKa here is taken for "another's wife," the sense is
perfectly distinct and logical. The word therefore is used here only in the
Gospels (exc. John viii. 3 and 4) as "adultery" in modern English. M

178 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
wholly dissolved. Therefore when in A nothing is
said about the husband marrying again, the meaning
of the text is unaltered. It is implied that a husband
who goes through the formality of divorce with the
intention of putting an end to the contract thereby
is guilty of that special behaviour towards the contract
which is called adultery.1 If he marries again he only
translates this false view of his position into action.
Further, in A, B, and C, Christ says that if a third
party similarly takes the false view of the contract,
and shows that he does so by marrying the divorced
wife, he too is guilty of adultery. In C the guiltiness
of the wife who so behaves is stated. If she takes
the active part and divorces her husband — no reason
being here given as sufficient — and marries again, she
is an adulteress.
So far the meaning is fairly plain. But a very
difficult expression is used in A. The husband who
thus lightly thinks to dissolve the marriage contract
by divorcing his wife is not said simply to commit
adultery, but to " make her commit adultery." Now
this expression, which is in any case obscure, is quite
unintelligible unless the above restricted view of
adultery is adhered to, and the modern associations
of the word put on one side. The woman is made
an adulteress, not because she has been unfaithful to
the contract ; that supposition is expressly barred — but
because she is placed in a position of being different
in the eye of the law from what she is in fact ; or
different in the view of man from what she is in God's
sight. According to the one she is a freed woman,
not a wife ; according to the other she is still a wife,
still bound to her husband.
The glaring contradiction between truth and ap
pearance constitutes a false or adulterous position.
1 In C it is called "adultery against her," the wife.

THE TEACHING ABOUT DIVORCE 179
The woman is not said to become an adulteress volun
tarily .and deliberately, but to be made one ; so that
the expression would cover the case of a wife who
has done nothing but failed to retain her husband's
love, and then has been quite unwillingly " put
away." She is made an adulteress, or, more strictly,
to commit adultery. It is as if the mere fact of her
existence, apart from any wrong thoughts she may
have harboured in her mind, is an offence against the
divine law ; she is made in iher person to embody the
revolt of society against the purity and completeness
of the marriage union. For in the "hardness of
their hearts " men have ordained the legal instrument
of divorce, and attached to it a meaning forbidden
by God. They have construed it as though the
cumbrous formalities of the Get obliterated wholly the
sacred bond which preceded it ; and when a husband,
wantonly and in obedience to his own whim, declares
before the whole world that his life partner is wholly
sundered from him and is free for re-marriage, he
declares a lie, and she, however much in her heart
she may dissent from this, is made, in virtue of her
false position, to share in the community's disloyalty
to God's decree. The wife may in her own private
capacity disown her husband's action by refusing to
marry again, but nothing can alter the fact that the
legal position into which her husband has forced her
is that by which society has formally and deliberately
uttered its refusal to fall in with the divine require
ments as to marriage.1
1 There is only one other conceivable sense of ttoih airriv p.oixevO?iv<u :
that is, " causeth her to commit adultery " by making it practically certain
that she will marry again. But this is not practically certain. Moreover,
it ignores the meaning of ¦a.iroMiA The guilt of dirAXwm consists in a.
formal assertion of a freedom which God has declared to be non-existent ;
and this particular guilt is unaffected by any sequel. By adultery Christ
means the attempt to dissolve the indissoluble ; what we mean is the act
which really does dissolve it.

180 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
An important corollary from this interpretation
remains to be drawn. In all civilised societies the
question of the re-marriage of divorced persons is a
burning one. As is well known, there is a difference
in the law of the Eastern and Western Church on
the point. In the former the re-marriage of the
" innocent " is not allowed, and though not permitted
by the canons of the Western Church, it has been
recognised by the resolutions of the Lambeth Con
ference of 1888. But whatever there is to be said
for this concession, it ought not to be based on the
teaching of Christ as recorded for us. According to
C and D, nothing can dissolve the marriage bond ;
according to A and B, the one sin, called fornication
after marriage, can do so. But there is not a word
to imply that after divorce consequent on this sin,
the re-marriage of the guilty party is forbidden any
more than that of the innocent.1 It is not said any
where that to marry the guilty divorced woman is to
1 In Dr. Gore's " Sermon on the Mount" (Appendix III. p. 216), the
following passages occur : " What has happened since then (the time of
the post-Reformation canons) is that the opinion of a great number of the
best English divines and commentators on St. Matthew has been expressed
in favour of allowing the re-marriage of the 'innocent party' after divorce
for adultery." And on p. 218 : " Our Lord appears on this matter to be
legislating rather than laying down a principle. . . . He appears to be
sanctioning, in the case of an innocent and deeply aggrieved person, a dis
pensation which violates the logic of the marriage tie on grounds of equity ;
but this carries with it no necessary consequence of a similar dispensation
in favour of the chief offender."
I think, on the other hand, it must be admitted that the Matthew texts
give exactly equal right to both the innocent and guilty parties to marry
again, in so far as the re-marriage of either the one or the other is not what
our Lord in these words is defining to be adultery. Of course, there may
be principles which Pie has enunciated elsewhere which justify a distinc
tion ; but no such principle is to be found here.
It would be equally true to say that the right to re-marry is withheld
equally from the innocent and the guilty party. All I contend for is that
inequality, in this respect, between the two cannot be justified from these
verses.

THE TEACHING ABOUT DIVORCE 181
commit adultery ; but it is said, in A and B, that
to marry an innocent divorced woman is adultery.
Accordingly, though there may be much to be said
for the relaxation above referred to ; though the
social conscience may be perfectly right in drawing
a distinction between the guilty and the innocent
party, there is no warrant whatever for it in these
passages which give all our Lord's teaching on the
subject. That teaching declares the re-marriage of
either party, following on unjustifiable divorce, to be
adultery ; perhaps we may infer that re-marriage of
either party, following on justifiable divorce, is not
adultery. If a third party chooses to marry one
who has made havoc of one marriage-contract, and
has snapped it by the commission of the great sin,
he takes upon himself the responsibility of union
with a criminal. The guiltiness of doing this must
depend on whether the divorced person is repentant
or not. But whatever the guiltiness may be, nothing
whatever is said about it in the two passages in St.
Matthew.1 Let us now take notice what exactly the Church
has done in drawing a distinction between the inno
cent and guilty party in respect of the legitimising of
re-marriage. She has relied on the C and D passages
as far as the guilty party is concerned, and on A and
B in regard to the innocent party. A and B imply that
divorce consequent on conjugal infidelity is the human
pronouncement of a dissolution already effected,
1 The particular sin of adultery which Christ is defining is committed in
three ways : ( i ) by the man or woman who divorces the marriage partner
on the assumption of freedom, when nothing serious enough has occurred
to warrant it ; (2) by the third party who marries the divorced person ;
(3) Dy the partner who is wrongly divorced. Nothing is said about
iropvela being adultery in the sense indicated, nor about the guilt of it
generally ; nor is it stated that the man guilty of iropvela. should be treated
in the same way as the woman.

1 82 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
which leaves both parties free to marry again. C and
D, if taken separately from A and B, forbid any re
marriage to both parties. The Roman Church has
taken up the intelligible position that all re-marriage
in the lifetime of the divorced partner is forbidden.
This,, however, ignores A and B. The Eastern and
the English Churches have not ignored A and B, but
have gone only half-way in recognising the words.
And yet, though not based on the Gospel teaching,
this position is defensible. The principle on which
we act is to recognise that the Gospel teaching only
deals with a restricted portion of the subject, viz. the
defining of the scope of the word adultery ; but that
there is the great crime of snapping the marriage-tie,
the punishment of which is not here specified, though
its heinousness is strongly stated ; and which has to be
dealth with by the Church. Though Christ excludes
it from His definition of adultery, He implies that it
is a crime of the first magnitude ; and the punish
ment inflicted by the Church is to deprive the sinner
of that liberty of re-marriage to which, on a narrow
reading of Christ's teaching, he would be legally
entitled. The critical questions which have arisen in con
nexion with these verses have been mainly concerned
with the excepting clause in A and B. But there
is another question to which less attention has been
given, that is, whether vv. 31, 32 are not wrongly
placed here. An argument in favour of an affirma
tive answer is to be found in the sharp difference of
meaning of noi-^ela in vv. 28 and 32. A paraphrase
of v. 28 would be, "Ye have heard . . . thou shalt
not commit the sin which breaks the marriage bond :
But I say that this sin which you call adultery is
committed when anything is purposely done to stimu
late desire, even if the desire be not translated into

THE TEACHING ABOUT DIVORCE 183
action." Here we notice fioi-gela is expanded in one
direction ; it is made to include antecedent actions
likely to cause the commission of the sin itself, and
certain to produce a corrupt state of feeling ; the
inference being that man must curb his thoughts,
not only his actions. Christ might have chosen
another word than "adultery." But it was His
method to> employ familiar old commandments
rather than to invent new categories of sins.
But when, we come to v. 32 we are dealing with
a subject only faintly connected with that of v. 28.
The word /toi^eia is expanded in an opposite direc
tion. Instead of bringing out further the idea of
individual guilt and the relation of sinful thought
and action, Christ exposes the disloyal behaviour of
mankind in trying to separate those whom God had
joined ; and in so doing He revives the early Scrip
tural idea of the permanence of wedlock. The share
taken by different parties to the contract in the abortive
attempt to annul it is indicated ; and the only point
of contact with v. 28 is in the implication of that
verse that fornication (i.e. the modern " adultery ")
alone can sever the bond which has been knit by
divine operation and hallowed by divine decree.
The sin which in v. 28 was analysed in respect of
the comparative guilt of evil thought and action, is
only glanced at in v. 32 in its relation to the ordi
nance of matrimony. This change in the meaning
of imoij(eia seems to point to a dislocation of vv. 3 1
and 32.
It would be tempting to some to go further and
say that if vv. 31, 32 do not belong to this context
they are merely a version of C, and hence the
irapeKTOi clause is an interpolation. But for this
there is no evidence. It is very probable that in
regard to different versions of apparently the same

1 84 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
words, the disciples asked their Lord for an explana
tion of some saying, as we know they did on more
than one occasion (Mark iv. 10 ; Matt. xiii. 26). In
deed in Mark x. 24 an unspoken question draws from
Him just such a modification of His original saying
as we find in two parallel versions. I would suggest
that we have in this passage the genesis of many a
diverse report. It is not unlikely that the hard saying
and the modification were subsequently both pre
served in writing, and some of the phenomena of the
Synoptic Gospels would thus be explained.

XI
"SWEAR NOT AT ALL"
?¦ 33-37
There is no great difficulty about these verses. The
Jewish law, as stated here, is quite simple, but our
Lord's expansion of it clearly alludes to the practice,
then prevalent, of avoiding the sacred Name of
Jehovah, and swearing by such things as earth,
heaven, Jerusalem, &c, out of an unenlightened
sense of reverence. The prohibition, however,
uttered to Christians is of a different order :
"Swear not at all." And if it be objected that
strong affirmations require oaths if they are to be
believed, Christ answers that we are to press to
wards a state of things where the simple word of
a Christian will always be believed implicitly.
Such is the plain meaning. Certain questions,
however, arise on an attentive consideration of the
words. On what principle are we to reconcile
Christ's own conduct before Caiaphas,1 or His
asseverations, "Verily, verily I say unto you," which
occur at the beginning of many striking sayings.
Next, what is the exact sin of such swearing as
our Lord forbids ?
Coupled with the first there is, of course, the broad
modern question : Why do we ignore this command
in our law court procedure ? And I would answer
1 Matt. xxvi. 63.
18s

1 86 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
that, like several of the injunctions in the Sermon,
it has to give way before the imperious law of
Christian love. It is perfectly true, and is felt to
be true, that to make a witness in a police court
take an oath is a concession to human frailty. It
recognises that the sacred associations of the Holy
Name and the solemnity of the act of invocation
are helps to the man's sense of truth, which ought
to be quite strong enough without them, but is
not; and, as such, it falls under the condemnation
of v. 37. But that is only another way of saying
the world is still imperfect, and conduct which
would be wrong if men were all upright may be
the best possible when a great many are actually
depraved. And as we have Christ's own example
to guide us, we feel that our practice of formal
adjuration is justified.
Still, the exact reasons for His action, when con
sidered in the light of this prohibition, are not
yet plain, nor will they become so till we con
sider the meaning of the prohibition. At first
sight they seem to be two : (1) Because all
objects that are generally chosen to swear by are
in reality sacred. (2) Our conversation ought not
to need these solemn aids to truthfulness. It be
comes clear, however, that the prominent and primary
reason against oaths is, that as interlarded in con
versation they are a form of irreverence ; that is to
say, it is a form of speech, or rather a way of speak
ing, which indicates a forgetfulness of the true relation
of matter and spirit ; in other words, the fundamental
facts of life. Now this irreverence is most marked
when the oath is uttered needlessly and lightly. If,
on the other hand, it be spoken with a due regard
to its sacredness, with deliberation, and with all the

SWEAR NOT AT ALL 187
sanction of an impressive ceremonial,, and only when
it is plainly needed, the risk of irreverence disappears.
There is no forgetfulness of the great facts of the
spiritual world, but a due recognition of them, coupled
with a sound appreciation of the claims of our " love
of the brethren" upon us. This explains, as far as
we feel it requires explanation, our instinct in favour
of legal oath-taking or solemn invocations at other
times. And yet it is true that, the mention of the earth and
the sky, &c, at other times is quite harmless, even with
out unusual safeguards. There seems to be a marked
difference between this mention of things sacred and
the invoking of them for purposes of attestation and
adjuration ; and we feel, moreover, that this difference
rests on something deeper than the fact that among
Christians adjuration in a general way ought to be
needless. And though our duty is for the most "part
fairly clear in this matter,, the principle of prohibition
requires further elucidation.
Let us notice, first, that our Lord chooses instances
sufficiently numerous, and distinct from each other to
warrant us in saying, that there is no object or thing
in heaven or earth which in ordinary conversation
could be chosen safely as the subject of an adjuration,
unless, of course, the adjuration were to be wholly
meaningless. All things in the least likely to be
chosen are too sacred to be sworn by. Now, mention
of this class of things might be sinful, it might be
ribald, false, or misleading, and would always be
subject to the principle that we shall have to give
account of our words hereafter. But it is to be
noted that the employment of these things for pur
poses of adjuration is to emphasise explicitly that
which is most sacred about them. It is to employ

188 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
them because they are sacred, since if there were no
such associations connected with them, the sense and
intention of the adjuration would evaporate. But
what do we mean by sacred ? Our Lord tells us
distinctly. The sacredness of this particular class of
things is in virtue of the close relation in which they
stand to God the Creator, who dwells in this won
derful world which is His handiwork. Heaven is His
throne ; earth His footstool. Poets may utter in words
of exceeding beauty and power other aspects of these
glorious objects of thought and vision, but Christ
reminds us that the truest and most vital fact about
them is that they stand in a close relation to the Most
High God. We men, His creatures, have a dim per
ception of that relation ; otherwise, we should feel no
inclination to invoke them for any purpose of attesta
tion ; and, therefore, such an employment of them in
speech differs from any ordinary mention of them, in
that it drags out into " the light of common day " that
aspect of them which ought to stir feelings of awe and
meek humility, and we have no difficulty now in under
standing that if this be done without the excuse of a
paramount need, we are guilty of " profaning," making
common and secular that which we feel, and show
that we feel, to be a mystery most solemn and sublime.
Moreover, to do this without need is to do it for the
sake of a merely personal convenience ; namely, to
secure for our words that belief which, by our own
untruthfulness of character and by the untruthfulness
of others, we have forfeited. Thus the sacredness of
sacred things is used by sinful men with incredible
recklessness to make good their own deficiencies,
as if it were a weapon to be lightly brandished in
self-defence, or a rag of clothing to be snatched up
to cover our nakedness ; only the illustrations fail to

SWEAR NOT AT ALL 189
convey that if man is defenceless and naked it is by
his own fault, and that even his readiness to put these
wonders of God's creative power to such ignoble uses
is an involuntary witness to his sense of their great
and awful mystery.
But there is one of our Lord's illustrations which
stands in a class by itself : " Neither shalt thou swear
by thy head, for thou canst not make one hair white
or black." The reason for the prohibition here ad
duced is not that the object selected to swear by is
full of sacredness, owing to its close relationship to
God, but rather that it is in close relation to the in
dividual man, who yet has almost no control over it.
The other three objects are forbidden because of their
greatness ; this, the fourth, because of man's littleness.
The topic of man's power over his own body is not
pursued, else it might have been indicated that for
woe, if not for weal, man has a dread power allowed
him in this department. He cannot add to his
strength by " taking thought," but by thoughtless
ness and wanton self-indulgence he can diminish it ;
he can mar, but not increase ; and even as to the hairs
of his head, while it is true that he cannot add to their
lustre, he can spoil it by evil living and reckless aban
donment to the anxieties of earth. So that, if our Lord
had pursued the subject into its narrower distinctions,
it would still have conveyed the same lesson. The
mastery which man may claim over his own self ex
tends only to the power of injury; and thus, just
where we seem to be dominant, our greatness is a
sign of our shame.
Thus swearing by certain objects is forbidden
because they ought to tell us of God's greatness, His
omnipresence, and His universal sway. Another
class of objects is equally forbidden, because the

190 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
employment of them for this purpose would
denote an idea of mastery which cannot stand the
test of facts. In both cases, therefore, we learn that
the practice of light and needless adjuration is incom
patible with a sense of our true relation to God.
There is in it an element of self-assertion "which wars
against the spirit of Sonship.
A few words may be spent on the •closely allied
topic of swearing or profanity as we know it in ordinary
life. In moments of excitement or anger men use
sacred words, under the impression that they relieve
their feelings thereby. We notice again that if there
is anything wrong in the practice the temper that
prompts to it is purely self-assertive, and as such
is, like that we have already examined, an offence
against God, not only because of its irreverence but
from its presumption. But that there is something
wrong in the practice is obvious from the simple
consideration, that unless the words used were known
to be sacred, no one would feel the slightest incli
nation to use them. Nor is the case altered if
the practice be excused on the ground that the
words are meaningless, and only add a spice to
conversation, or are meant to raise a laugh, as on
the modern stage ; since plainly if these words were
stripped of every sacred association there would be
nothing whatever amusing in their employment, no
matter how artfully contrived. If this obvious fact
about the use of profane words were more generally
recognised, there would be no such thing as raising
a laugh by a public and perfectly needless profane
utterance on the stage or elsewhere. It is a matter
of some interest and much humiliation to note that
though this licence is conceded to the stage, it is still
a marked proof of bad manners for people to swear

SWEAR NOT AT ALL 191
in society, before ladies or servants. Herein is a
proof. How easy it is, when we cease to think of
the principles of conduct, to fall into woeful incon
sistency, waywardness, and untruth.1
Besides this there is in the practice of casual swearing
in moments of exasperation an element of self-indul
gence. The use of a word, known to be too sacred to
be legitimately used, causes a momentary forgetfulness
of the cause of irritation. It is, in short, a counter-
irritant ; and here again its efficacy depends wholly
on the underlying sense of the sacredness of the
expression, or at least of the fact that others look on
it as sacred, and that there is no valid objection to
their opinion. If this be not so, and the words
are genuinely felt to be indifferent, all temptation to
use them dies away, as there is nothing in so doing
which causes any diversion of feeling. Nothing then
remains for a man addicted to profane language but
to find other expressions which even he begins by
thinking sacred, and so to go from bad to worse.
" Whatsoever is beyond these is of the evil." Some
commentators (e.g. Trench, " St. Augustine," p. 220)
explain these words principally with reference to the
fact that whenever we take or demand an oath we are
admitting a declension of human nature from entire
truthfulness. This is true, but it is not necessary
to introduce the topic at this point. The words
are full of force if we take them in close connexion
with the preceding, and restrict them to the idea of
1 In regard to bad manners there seem to be these principles at work.
Broadly speaking, conduct of three kinds would come under this designa
tion : (1) That which shows want of consideration of others' rights ; (2)
coarseness ; (3) irreverence. The first is an offence against Christian
love ; the second is a needless obtrusion of the fact that we are closely
related to the animals ; the third, a similarly needless obtrusion of the
fact that we are related to God.

192 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
irreverence. Whatever goes beyond Yea, yea, Nay,
nay, must be of the nature of an adjuration, which
has been condemned distinctly in this passage, though
with qualifications gathered from elsewhere ; and the
condemnation is summed up in the expression " of
the evil."

XII
TURNING THE CHEEK
v. 38-42
In regard to these most suggestive and striking verses
it will be advisable to lay down as clearly as possible
their exact scope, since, otherwise, an attempted
interpretation of them easily wanders off into a dis
cussion of topics, highly interesting indeed and
important, but not in any way touched by this
particular teaching of Christ.
After summarising very shortly a certain set of
injunctions contained in Exodus, Leviticus, and
Deuteronomy, Christ lays down a principle of non-
resistance to evil (or the evil one, or an evil man) ;
and to illustrate His meaning He selects a certain
limited set of conduct problems, and enjoins
apparently a line of conduct to be pursued in each
case. The problems may be classified as those which
arise for an individual follower of Christ, when his
neighbour invades his life with a claim on his time,
energy, or property, based either on private need
or public duty, and enforces the claim either with
violence, or menace, or urgent petition. Now as to
the line of conduct laid down, we have to ask, first,
if there is a single principle in common to the four
cases selected. What, for instance, is there in com
mon between turning the cheek to the smiter, and
going two miles when called upon to go only one, on
193 N

194 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
the public transport service ? Clearly the answer is
that the principle illustrated is the very opposite of
what our Lord calls resisting evil ; that is, of paying
back evil in its own coin, of returning violence for
violence, extortion by extortion, and so on. But
when He gives a command like that of turning the
cheek, it is necessary to go further and inquire if this
is a positive or a negative command. In other words,
is it meant to show us what to do or what to avoid ?
Are we, as professing followers of the Saviour, to do
these things, to act in this way under these or similar
provocations, or have we here merely a vivid instance
of our Lord's method of laying down a paradoxical
command to show that the temper which prompts to
the opposite line of conduct is to be checked ?
The answer is perfectly distinct. Christ's own
conduct is more than once in flat contradiction
to His own commands, if those commands are taken
literally. When smitten (John xviii. 23) He did not
offer the other cheek ; and other such instances are
mentioned by commentators. But it has not been
so generally observed that the only possible corollary
from this fact is that these four injunctions at once
become merely negative prohibitions of an exceed
ingly limited scope. They may be correctly summed
up in some such words as these : When provoked
by the violent aggressions or tiresome claims of your
neighbour, which threaten an infringement of your
right to consideration, avoid retaliation ; whatever
you do let the retaliatory principle be wholly without
effect on your conduct. As soon as ever we try to
turn the prohibition into something like a positive
command, one of two things happen — either we
choose the literal sense, or we substitute for it some
positive command which lies outside the range of
the sayings altogether. In the first case, we are con-

TURNING THE CHEEK 195
fronted by our Lord's own example ; in the second,
we embark on topics which are not only irrelevant,
but are discouraged by the very peculiar form in
which the actual sayings are cast.
For instance, it is extremely tempting, when baffled
in the endeavour to extract a rule of conduct from the
words, to conclude that they lay on us the duty of
acting always according to the rule of love to our
neighbour ; and many commentators have written on
the kind of conduct which the rule of love dictates in
cases similar to those adduced by our Lord. But in
these verses there is nothing whatever about the rule
of love. On the contrary, the conduct enjoined by
the words, " turn the other cheek," " let him have thy
cloak also," &c, is so clearly opposed to the law of
love that it would be difficult to select any passage
in the Bible much less suitable as a text on which
to hang a discourse on loving our neighbour, or de
termining in certain difficult cases how love is to
influence our actions. As has been remarked by
commentators for centuries past, the actions here
enjoined would frequently be provocative of evil,
especially the last instance, the giving to every one
who asks ; indeed, as to all the four cases, it is easy
to see that not only in modern complex society, but
in the simpler social conditions of Palestine, the literal
fulfilment of these commands would result in definite
harm, and therefore he who acts so is acting not
according to the law of love but the law of hate. To
base, then, a homily about love on these particular
verses is to introduce an irrelevance more than usually
gratuitous. So we find ourselves restricted to the bare pro
hibition, Do not retaliate. Before considering its
meaning we may answer the oft-repeated question,
" If Christ did not mean His commands to be taken

196 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
literally, why did He couch them in such definite
language ? " Some of His injunctions are to be
taken literally, but one would think that to mix these
with others that are only to be "taken metaphori
cally," or, as some word it, " spiritually," is only to
weaken the force of tbem all. Indeed, this has often
happened. There must be many cases where the
plain impossibility of a literal fulfilment has deterred
men from attempting any fulfilment at all. The com
mands are simply ignored.
Different answers have been given to the question.
Some have said that beyond anything else Christ's
object was oratorical vividness ; others, that He was
preaching to a people traditionally inclined to external
and spiritless obedience, and that the only chance of
saving them from a continuance in this was to give
them precepts which could not possibly be construed
literally. There is much truth in both of these, but
I would prefer to emphasise what is brought out with
the greatest plainness in this passage, Christ's recog
nition of the fact that if man is to advance ethically
and spiritually he must think. These verses are
primarily destructive in their tone ; they prohibit a
course of action which is to nearly all men supremely
natural ; and being thus destructive of a conventional
code of ethics, they share the characteristics of all
destructive criticism — they are in themselves unsatis
fying, but profoundly stimulative of thought. No
sayings were ever uttered which make it so difficult
for a listener to acquiesce in mental inertia — as if the
main problems of life and conduct were easily solved
by what he heard. The most indolent, the most con
ventional minds have been for a time startled out
of their groove by the sound of these arresting para
doxes, which, when looked at closely, are certainly
barren of definite guidance, but all the more effective

TURNING THE CHEEK 197
as a challenge to rational beings to use their reason.
In this sense their markedly incomplete character
constitutes their perfection.
Yet it would be unsatisfactory if all that we could
say about these injunctions were that they are not
possible to carry out. But in reality, they lay
down a principle which, though negative or prohibitive
only, is yet of supreme value and requires constant
reiteration. The main feature of such conduct as
is here enjoined is not that it is loving, but that it is
difficult. It is far from clear that it would have a good
effect on the object of it, but it is in each case pro
foundly contrary to our inclinations. And it is not
going too far, or straining the sense of the passage, to
infer from it that in the countless puzzles of conduct
which life presents to us, and about which our Lord
has left us without definite instructions, there is this
broad principle to be taken to heart, that our in
clinations are bad guides. This certainly leaves a
great deal unsaid which we would willingly hear,
but, as far as it goes, it is deep and true ; and men
would do well, before allowing themselves to be dis
appointed at its incompleteness, to see if they have
exhausted its teaching by practising it.
Thus if we take the numerous questions about which
there is much discussion at the present day, we see
that much perplexity would be spared if we could
frankly begin by recognising the principle under
lying these sayings. We are at our wits' end to
know what to do about such matters as the treat
ment of bodily appetites of all sorts — recreation,
its character and amount, friendships, comfort and
luxury, matrimony and celibacy, war, sport and
the treatment of animals, gambling and all kinds
of getting, and competition. People clamour loudly
at " the churches " for not laying down precise direc-

198 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
tions about these things, but " the churches " in re
fraining from doing so are only following the ex
ample of Christ, who apparently thought that in giving
us a rule, parabolically stated, of distrusting appetites
and inclinations, He was giving all that was good for
us. For in spite of the copiousness and power with
which He enforces the commands of the Decalogue,
the obligation of love to God and to man, none the
less it is true that throughout His teaching generally
there is a silence, to us surprising, on such questions
as those enumerated, leaving His followers to trust to
personal spiritual guidance, and sharply discouraging
them from looking for mechanical rules. The result
is that any sincere follower of the Saviour is often and
often in dire perplexity for a time. He has to wrestle
with conflicting claims and divergent duties, but he
feels that in so wrestling he is gaining something very
precious which would have been lost to him if he had
relied on definite precepts, because the difficulties
of decision throw him into closer contact with the
divine Spirit, and in that contact he feels that his
true life consists. As a help then towards facing life's
problems in the right frame of mind, Christ makes it
perfectly plain in these verses that we are to clear our
motives by sternly eliminating from them the most
imperious, the most obvious, and the most universal
of them all, viz. obedience to inclination. And by
degrees man learns that in proportion as he obeys
this order life is simplified. Enough and to spare,
perhaps, of difficulty remains to give us chance of
growth to our full moral stature ; none the less, it
remains true that the voices which bewilder us in our
pilgrimage, the false lights which flicker and dance
around us to draw us from the narrow way into the
quagmires, are those of egoism, or, more simply, the
appeals of passion, ambition, and greed of every

TURNING THE CHEEK 199
sort. As we learn to banish them the footprints of
the Saviour become distinct in the path before us.
These sayings are therefore in the highest sense
educative. They reveal our Lord's determination
that, come what may, His followers are not to be
deprived of the necessity of deciding for themselves
as to problems of conduct (even as to those so
delicate and complicated as arise from the aggressive
spirit of a neighbour or a brother), for therein lies
our hope of growth in nearness to Him. But at the
same time He makes it clear that He is not simply
leaving us to flounder in bewilderment. He reveals
His compassion for us by helping as far as the situa
tion allows. Even in these verses which stop short
of the promises richly given elsewhere, He takes away
the spell of the grand false motive under which man
kind habitually tends to fall. It is much to be thus
far helped, for true mental education (i.e. training in
growth) consists in presenting difficulties to the child,
apparently but not really too great for him, and at
the same time letting him feel that his teacher
perfectly understands his need.

XIII
"LOVE THINE ENEMY"
v. 43-48
The paragraph beginning with ver. 33 concerned
man's duty to his neighbour in the matter of speech ;
vv. 38 to 42 gives injunctions as to neighbourly
actions. This last paragraph deals with the duty of
feeling, and so may be regarded as a climax.1
We notice first an injunction brought into sharp
contrast with the old law, or rather with the popular
idea of it. Then a promise peculiarly spiritual and
unearthly of an increasing likeness to God in one
great respect. Then a deterrent, very gently- worded,
appealing to shame and assuming a sense of high
vocation. Further, the contrasted conduct is shown
to be inferior, because there is in it nothing that rises
above the conventional standard. The paragraph
and the chapter closes with an exhortation which,
while suitable to the particular command in v. 44,
may also be taken as applicable to the whole section,
which closes at this point (viz. vv. 27-48).
The command " love thine enemy " reminds us that
" love," in the sense of the Greek word, is an emotion
to some extent under the control of the will. This is
often denied in ordinary talk. People get into the
way of assuming that their likes and dislikes are
wholly beyond their own control. The same idea
1 Stier and others.

LOVE THINE ENEMY 201
prevails with regard to "believing." But our Lord
frequently urged men to " believe." The truth is that
in both cases the Greek verb denotes some action or
effort which, though not independent of the emotions,
is certainly the result of will. In " believe " there is
a large element of trust ; and in " love " such ideas as
that of " suppressing all vengeful feelings," or even of
" acting kindly towards," may be regarded as a com
ponent part, anyhow in the initial stages.
We may also notice that the very difficult question
as to the Christian's right feeling towards one who is
obviously defying God, ignoring the plainest dictates
of duty, is not here touched upon.
But whatever reservations it may be necessary to
make as to the meaning of " love," it is indisputable
that Christ here commands something which is above
man's natural instincts, and which most people would
say is above his natural powers. Even if the word
were restricted to its least exacting signification, as
equivalent to "wish for the welfare of" thine enemy,
how many of us could honestly say that we are able
to rise to this, in the case of one who has malignantly
thwarted us, or gone out of his way to slander our
name and make life harder and bitterer than it would
be if he had never been born ? Or even suppose one
with whom we are constantly thrown, who irritates
or wearies us every hour, our wish for such person's
welfare is very often only of a languid and abstract
character ; certainly it falls short of the point where
we feel impelled to take trouble. Hence arises the
important question : Is this command one of the
paradoxes in the Sermon which are obviously not to
be taken literally, such as that of turning the cheek to
the smiter, &c. ? And the answer is quite complete.
In the case of the real paradoxes our Lord's own con
duct contradicts the literal precept, but in the case of

202 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
this command He fulfils it. The records of His life,
and especially of His Passion, are full of indications
of His deep and tender concern for the highest moral
interests of His bitterest, most brutal enemies. Other
wise we should never have known what the fulfilment
of the precept meant, so utterly alien to ordinary
human nature it had always been, and always, we may
conjecture, would have remained. In short, the
command is given us with the most emphatic and
unqualified stringency, and it is supported by the
unvarying practice of the Saviour Himself.
None the less, there is a pronounced disposition to
whittle it away, and a very common form of protest
against the literal observance of the words is based
upon the dislike which many people feel for a man
whose benevolence makes him equally cordial to all.
It is true that this conduct is sometimes not only
undiscriminating, but actually due to a remarkable
want of discernment as to the differences between
A and B ; so that it would seem that, after all, the
common feeling on this subject is a protest not against
unvarying cordiality to all, but against the inability
to show real sympathy with any. If the feeling goes
further than this it is the outcome of selfishness, of
a desire to monopolise the affections, or anyhow
the kindness, of one who is much sought after by
others. But all doubts on the subject are resolved by
reference to the Saviour Himself. The amplitude of
the welcome He gave to all sorts and conditions of
men, His sympathy, which drew to Him the intensest
devotion of the most diverse characters, have never
been made the subject of accusation against Him.
The more perfect a character is in this respect the
more the various claims are satisfied. A general
love is shown equally to all, not in order that igno-

LOVE THINE ENEMY 203
ranee as to the human heart may be covered, but
as the fruit of the deepest insight and the richest
understanding ; so that loving kindness shown in
action is combined with the true sympathy which
recognises affinity of mind and temperament, but
never fails, even in quarters where it is not returned
nor even understood. Such are the characteristics of
Christian love. The love which is merely a human
passion cannot exist without manifesting a desire for
a return. It is fed by reciprocity which must be felt,
but Christians make a profound mistake and suffer
unspeakable loss in requiring, as a return for their
" agape" a consciously-enjoyed satisfaction of any
kind. This is to introduce the element of bargaining
into life, against which, as has frequently been noticed,
Christ's emphatic warnings are directed.
The promise attached to the command is at first
difficult : " That ye may become sons of God." But the
idea of sonship in Hebrew is closely connected with
that of moral likeness x (cf . " Sons of the Theocracy,"
xiii. 38). So the idea is that during the time of our
probation we have the chance given us of becoming
assimilated to God in one respect — in the practice of
distributing kindness in every direction impartially.
It is almost as if the bliss of the Godhead were in
pouring benefits on the unworthy ! and it is to be
noticed that the reward is the very contrary of that
usually demanded by man as if it were a right, viz.
success in winning or regaining affection. We are
constantly shocked and amazed at evidence of love
shown in the completest self-renunciation being yet
quite unsuccessful in winning the stubborn or melting
the hard heart; and when in spite of this the love
1 So Dalman, p. 115, English translation. It therefore is not important
for purposes of interpretation whether we read with the moderns viol, or
with Chrysostom fyioioi.

204 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
is persevered in, we stand baffled before a mystery.
Such likeness to Christ seems to belong to another
world. But it is promised to us in this world, and
just where it loses the expected reward it wins the pro
mised crown — that of increasing approximation to the
Divine likeness.
By way of deterring us from the opposite line of
conduct, our Lord then asks the pertinent question
by way of contrast, " What reward have ye?"1 The
question is abrupt and colloquial in tone, something
like our words, " What do you get by it ? " and the
reference to the publicans suggests that by adopting
the conventional standard of conduct, the very class
of men whose whole lives were bent and even sacri
ficed to secure profit, become thus the type of failure
to get it. There is an important parallel also to be
noticed. Christ indicates the conventional standard
by two descriptive phrases, " loving those who love
you," and " greeting only the brethren." The
question after the first suggestion is : " What reward
have ye ? " but after the second the striking words are
used : " What do ye do more " (than others) ? The
Greek word is untranslatable by any one English
equivalent, but the meaning seems to be what the
Revised Version gives, and is tantamount to "How
does your conduct differ from that of the ordinary
conventional men and women of the world ? " and
then the rebuke is pointed by the expansion of the
meaning — not only worldly people, but the outcasts
of society and the despised Gentiles do as much.
Obviously, therefore, we are to infer that*the only
hope of getting a reward is to rise above the ordinarily
accepted standard. As long as we restrict our feelings
1 It is remarkable that this expression in the present tense seems to refer
plainly to the idea current in Palestine at that date of a reward laid up for
individuals in heaven.

LOVE THINE ENEMY 205
of charity and kindliness to those who have the same
feelings for us, we miss the real reward — the gradual
approximation to the Divine character ; or, to put
it paradoxically, when we love only on conventional
lines, we may get a return, but no profit. But con
ventionality in this matter is exactly what people
ordinarily mean when they speak of conduct as
natural ; and what our Lord speaks of as " over and
above " is exactly what is considered unnatural. Thus
the subject has many ramifications. To take an in
stance where real kindliness is of the "over and
above " type : if A rudely tells B of some fault, not with
any considerateness but merely in wrath, we should
reckon it a proof of great self-command if B returned
no angry answer, but went on quietly with his usual
life much as if nothing had happened. Now this
would be worthy of some admiration, but it would
not be " over and above " in the sense of this saying ;
it would be if B went out of his way to do A an
unostentatious kindness at much cost to himself.
But the question will be asked, "On what possible
grounds can he feel kindly towards him ? " Some
few people might bring themselves to do a kind deed
and say nothing about it, but the injunction refers to
feeling ; and is it reasonable to suppose that after
severe provocation he can genuinely feel well dis
posed towards his enemy ? He may command his
actions, but friendly feelings must have something to
stir them other than wholly hostile experiences.
Let usr Recognise first that if we profess to be
followers" of Christ, whether it be His conduct or
His precepts, nothing can convict us more terribly of
the utter sham and wilful defiance of our ordinary
habits of thought and dealing with each other than
the cogency and force of this trite objection. The
meaning of the grand claim upon us is as clear as

206 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
daylight; no evasion is possible. Unless we strive
all our lives long to bring our thoughts and tempers
and affections into thorough conformity with the
command, flat disobedience is the only alternative.
It may, therefore, be of some use to notice that
what our Lord must have felt towards Pilate, Judas,
and such as the soldiers who despitefully entreated
Him, was compassion — a feeling which it is quite
possible to blend with righteous anger. Supposing,
for instance, a saint-like Christian were vilely used by
a fellow-Christian, the personal element, as we call it,
would be so completely eliminated that he could
calmly consider the man's position, in the light of
such facts as the redemption of the world, the coming
of the Holy Ghost, and the judgment at the last day.
Would not the spitefulness be felt to call for pity? An
ordinary man could pity a lunatic if he were reviled
by him without the slightest reason. But if the
reviler were sane and responsible, is he not far more
to be pitied ? Anger, doubtless, has its place, but on
cool reflection the feeling which ought to be upper
most is compassion for a weak and wayward fellow-
creature, who is so completely blind to the first grand
obligation of his Christianity, that while he professes
devotion to Christ he can allow himself to drift along
towards the grave in utter alienation from the Spirit of
his Master, where He touches most definitely and dis
tinctly on our daily hfe. How can it be contended
that a person so situated has no claim upon our pity ?
Some such feeling is possible for those who can
eliminate the sense of wounded vanity, and all that
might rankle in the recollection of hate and scorn.
Freedom would then be given to the power of the
fact — so often ignored — that in God's sight each
individual soul has an absolute value. " Every
one who comes within the range of Christ's sacri-

LOVE THINE ENEMY 207
fice is individually worth the sacrifice that saves
him." 1
Meantime, it is worth remarking that in this passage
of the first Gospel, as well as in the parallel, Luke
vi. 28, the broad command, " Love," is illustrated by
the narrower " Pray for " those who ill-treat you ; the
second injunction being enforced by the example
of Christ. We are apt to assume that this order is
somewhat less exacting than the command to treat
kindly (" do good to," Luke vi. 27) would be. This is
a mistake. To pray quite sincerely for an enemy, or
for one whom we fancy we have a right to despise, is
exceedingly difficult, as it lacks, or ought to lack
(vi. 5), all stimulus of human applause.
"Ye therefore shall be perfect." It is not clear
whether we ought to take this as a promise or a
command. In English the future tense may easily
give a certain imperative force, while the pure impera
tive would give hardly anything of a promise. But
in Hebrew2 it is very probable that the imperative
force predominated ; and the tone of the English,
"you are to be," may be compared. We may, there
fore, assume the sense to be, " You, as members of the
new kingdom, newly convinced of your sonship to
your heavenly Father, are to look forward to 'per
fection ' as your goal, your aim, your destination. In
all matters such as those touched upon, in respect of
fulfilling the moral law in your dealings with your
neighbours, you have to be satisfied with nothing
short of perfection. That is what your sonship in
volves. The perfection set before you is that of your
Father in heaven."
1 Strong, "Christian Ethics," p. 129.
a Winer, p. 395, omits the passage, and his instances are all prohibi
tions, e.g. "thou shalt not." Moulton's note stales that in Hebrew all
prohibitions are in the future,

208 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
But, as St. Chrysostom reminds us, children can
only be perfect as children.1 For the sense of the
passage this remark is important. Many a careless
reader, profoundly conscious of his own weak will
and languid aspirations, comes upon this exhorta
tion and passes it by with a vague feeling that it
has nothing to do with such as he is himself. But
if so, to whom does it apply ? Why were these
strange words spoken to the mixed multitude in
Gahlee ? Because the perfection of children is not
the inconceivable thing for the children of God that
the divine perfection itself is. For instance, part of a
child's perfection is to obey without understanding
why. This is within our range. So also to have a
certain serene conviction, in reference to moral duty,
that no commands are arbitrarily laid upon us, however
difficult they appear to be; nor is the fulfilment of
them (such as the Father demands) out of our reach
(though very likely such fulfilment as man recognises
is quite out of our reach). Nor, again, is the saying
a depressing insistence on an ideal, failure to reach
which means utter failure. There is profound en
couragement in the idea of "perfect," meaning perfect
in a stage of growth ; so that the opposite idea is not,
as many seem to suppose, "good for nothing," but
"incompletely developed in regard to the stage of
growth reached." There is all the difference between
the condemnation belonging to this kind of short
coming and that which attaches to active defiance or
open hostility to God's command. What is hinted
at is not at all the unimpeachable rectitude of a life
of good works, without flaw or omission, but a state of
mind of which the prevailing note is trust, and failure
to enter into it means not the doing of wrong things
so much as a loss of peace. '**£&
1 Cremer, s.v., rAeios, p. 568: (1) complete in its own stage; (2) high,
pre-eminent ; (3) morally blameless,

XIV
RIGHTEOUS FOR MEN'S APPLAUSE
vi. i
There is an obviously possible connexion with the
end of the last chapter. It would be conceivable that
men could aim zealously at a standard of righteous
ness, or, as we should now call it, virtue, which would
be the highest possible — the divine standard of per
fection, in short, in order that they might attract
men's attention. This is a motive strictly forbidden
to us ; and we observe that the reason given is that
if we disobey the prohibition, we "have no reward
with our Father which is in heaven." That is to say,
God's approval of the "righteousness" is withheld
if it is done from this motive. This reminds us of
the text, "Ye cannot serve God and mammon." It
is evident that in our Lord's view there is no room
for this kind of ambition. It is clean contrary to
the true service of God, and must not be introduced
into " the kingdom of heaven."
The words are very simple, and it is only necessary
to add that the expression "to be seen of them"
means, in the Greek, " to be looked at by men as if
they were looking on a pubhc show or spectacle."
So it may be paraphrased as above "in order to
attract the attention of mankind."
But simple though the words are, they raise most
complex questions. It is impossible to be satisfied
2°9 O

210 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
with an interpretation of the prohibition as if it
referred merely to the coarse parade of service to
God, which is presently described as practised by the
Pharisees. Nothing is easier or more common than
the referring of these most difficult precepts to some
infirmity of the Jews (or a small sect of them) which
we flatter ourselves we can safely and unthinkingly
condemn ; and having to our satisfaction thus shifted
the responsibility from ourselves, we pass on to the
next verse. By such a use of history as this the
difficulties of some of the words can be diluted.
But all the depth and value of the great Sermon is
thereby lost. If it were really true that its teaching
referred only to the Pharisees or Scribes or lawyers
of an obscure little country in Asia Minor, why do
we give ourselves the trouble of reading it at all ?
Perhaps the best way of confronting the questions
which underlie the words is to admit that the prohi
bition is consonant to a deep and general instinct
among right-thinking people, and that where virtue is
understood to be independent of all anxiety as to the
notice it may attract, it is at once felt to be worthy of
admiration. But that is not a rational explanation,
and it would be most unsatisfactory to have to
abandon all quest for the principle on which the
prohibition rests, since the instinct (which is all that
then would be left) is found to be far too weak to
influence men's conduct very considerably. It has
often been observed that ambition, " the last infirmity
of noble minds," is the deadliest and most stubborn
and deep-seated disease of good people; and we
should take notice that in His moral teaching our
Lord pays far more attention to the self-deceit,
duplicity, and hypocrisy of good people than He does
to the lawlessness or open defiance of the bad.
We can imagine some one pleading in defence of

RIGHTEOUS FOR MEN'S APPLAUSE 211
ambition and against the precept of Christ in some
such way as this : —
" Ambition for honour is generally taken to be the
feeling which impels a man to choose a public career
in order that his efforts in such causes as philanthropy,
statesmanship, or public service of any kind may re
ceive due recognition. It is not at all necessary that
he should be eager about the material remuneration
of his work ; the passion is concerned primarily with
honour alone, and it is found potent to stir men to
wonderful achievements, even if the recognition has
no chance of being secured till after their death. Now
the precept in Matt. vi. 1 is, like many others in the
Sermon, quite inapplicable to the world as we know
it ; that is to say, if obeyed, it would spoil a great
deal of what we all feel to be good in the world. That
is the first general caution with regard to the text.
Secondly, it is universally recognised that in training
of character in the young, praise is the best of all
stimuli to effort, and where it is withheld the young
mind and spirit seems to lose nourishment. If, then,
praise is an undeniable good in education, how is
it possible to deny it a place in mature life ? If it is
an invariable concomitant to vigorous and beneficial
effort, why not make it also an object ? and as soon
as it becomes an object of effort the precept of Christ
is directly disobeyed. Thirdly, modern life is ex
ceedingly complex, and there are many questions of
conduct concerning which the only guide for an
ordinary man is the deliberate opinion of the best
men with whom he can come into contact. If he
follows that opinion he secures their approval : why
not then say simply that he ought to aim at that
approval at once; and if he is to aim at it, then he
must act so that they know what he is doing ; in
other words, he is to ' do righteousness before men.'

212 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
Lastly, if the precept were generally obeyed, all reason
for the conferring of public honours, titles, recogni
tions, &c, would disappear, a large element in our
social life would be pronounced a senseless and mis
chievous blunder, and the consent of all ages on this
subject would have to be contemptuously set aside."
And more might be said. But while much of this
subject must remain difficult, certain objections may
be readily answered. The praise of a parent is the
legitimate aim of the child, because the parent is
the embodiment to the child of the Fatherhood of
God ; and the chief hope of the abstract idea ever
being grasped lies in the existence of the earthly
relationship. The parents' approval is, therefore,
ideally, God's approval. Similarly, prizes given by
educational establishments are justified by the formula
that the schoolmaster is in loco parentis ; and it may
be said that honours conferred by the community
on individuals have something educational in their
meaning. Practically they would be justified as an
incentive to others to good effort, but this is in con
travention of the Christian precept. Ideally, they
are the expression of the best opinion which the
body politic can form ex post facto, that such and
such conduct is worthy of approval ; and in formally
expressing that approval society is performing a duty
to itself apart from that of rewarding the individual.
It is quickening its own moral sense by the deliberate
expression of a moral judgment on actions too large
in scope, and wrought on too spacious an area to
escape notice. Their bigness claims a verdict, and
the body politic must give it. Thus the real justifica
tion of such pronouncements lies in the fact that
man in his corporate capacity has to utter what he
believes to be the mind of God. Just as the judge
delivers the sentence of death under the conviction

RIGHTEOUS FOR MEN'S APPLAUSE 213
that he has a commission to pronounce to men the
divine displeasure at certain actions, so the Sovereign
is the agent of God when he utters the divine ap
proval. If this were better understood, much of the
vulgarity of modern life would disappear.1
Next, as to the wisdom of relying on verdicts of
wise men as the best guide for conduct in a complex
life, it only needs to be pointed out there is a wide
difference between taking the opinion of the best men
as a guide to actions, and the aiming at the applause
or attention of the mass of men as an end of life.
The applause is sought for by trying to give a certain
appearance to the character (whether by action or
otherwise), but there need be no pretence in being
guided by wise advice. This latter is obviously in
many cases the only thing to do (so long as it is
recognised that the seeking of human advice should
be treated as merely a rough way of ascertaining
God's will). Some modern teaching as to the sum-
mum bonum of life being " truth to self " runs into an
error worse than that from which Christ here warns
us. If applied at all consistently it would result in
a spurious originality, a nonconformity for the sake
of not conforming, and so gaining credit by dissi-
dence, which is less securely promised by agreement.2
Thirdly, as to the effect of ambition as a stimulus to
useful achievement. It is indisputable that much
useful and civilising work has been done by men who
were obviously sensitive on the subject of men's
applause. But the text does not deny this. It is
equally true that much good, perhaps better, work
has been done by men indifferent to renown. And
if in the case of the first group their activities would
have been weakened had the stimulus of ambition
1 In this connexion the modern fashion of memorials and testimonials
requires consideration.
2 e.g. Emerson's Essay on Self-Reliance.

214 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
been withdrawn — which we shall never know — it is
impossible to calculate how far society would have
lost. The hypothesis presents us with a picture too
complicated to interpret. Christ's teaching does not
touch the question how far society is in debt to the
passion of ambition for the civilisation which it en
joys. It asserts with the utmost emphasis that Chris
tians are to disregard public approbation as an end
of actions. They are not forbidden to use it as a
means, to take account of it, or to sway it. But they
are to be independent of man's estimate of themselves
as a governing motive of conduct. That estimate
need not be cynically flouted, though it be not slavishly
followed : a Christian's relation towards it should be
a relation of detachment. Without further discussion
of this interesting question we may go so far as to
say that if this detachment had characterised the
work of all social reformers, statesmen, and pioneers
of every sort, the resulting achievements would have
been quite as beneficial to mankind as, in fact, they
have been. There is no antagonism between the
ethical precepts of Christianity and the good ten
dencies of civilisation, though it is very difficult to
distinguish those good tendencies from the bad.
But if man is to be independent of the motive of
ambition, what is to take its place ?
It might still be thought possible to protest that the
warning is only against coarse angling for applause,
such as is hinted at in the Greek word meaning " to
be gazed at," and illustrated by conduct of a downright
vulgar sort in vv. 2, 5, and 16 ; and that there is
no denunciation here of the ordinary commonplace
man's motives, which are to ascertain what people
want him to do, and to do it with all his might,
hoping without any vainglorious display to secure
a just measure of approval.

RIGHTEOUS FOR MEN'S APPLAUSE 215
Such an answer would show a misunderstanding
of the warning given by Christ. The reason why
vulgar parade of virtuous action is to us, apart from
any deep principle, contemptible, is not only that it is
worldly in its motive, but that it is doomed to failure,
and this failure is largely due to Christ's denunciation.
But if no other motive than this worldly one can be
taken and acted on, and supposing that any particular
ostentation were successful, it would be plainly un
reasonable to despise it. If there is no spiritual or
heavenly motive to be apprehended, then the earthly
one is not only justifiable but laudable, and the only
question is how to avoid overdoing it. The Pharisees
clearly were not unsuccessful in their attempt (vv. 2,
5, 16), and it would be foolish to despise their ostenta
tion, which was successful then, merely because it
would fail to-day.
Angling after men's favour, or applause, or popu
larity, or reason, will take different forms in different
surroundings. In one age and country it has been
found advisable to stand and pray in the market
place ; in another to stay away from church and
entertain friends. In some circles it seems profitable
to brag ; in others to hint delicately at some virtuous
action ; in others, again, to keep silence. It matters
absolutely nothing whether the display be coarse or
refined — all depends on the aim in view. If it be not
men's approval and recognition, what is it to be ?
The answer which it is safest to give is that which
is supplied by our Lord's example. The end of all a
Christian's actions should be conformity to the will
of God, which is ascertained by prayer. There are
many, no doubt, to whom such words seem unprac
tical, especially at the present day, when prayer seems
to have lost power. But the principle must be the
same. If they cannot feel the personal guidance of

216 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
the Holy Spirit they must fall back on the highest and
purest conceptions which they can form of duty, and
in genuine sincerity follow them ; but with genuine
longing also after something less uncertain, less fluc
tuating, less cold, viz., the sense of God's own
Presence with them. Without looking for it in any
bargaining spirit, without venturing to anticipate
either the time or the method of its bestowal, a
Christian who so orders his life may be perfectly
confident that the promised reward will not fail.1
1 Readers of Butler may feel that his treatment of part of this subject
is apparently out of keeping with the plain meaning of this text and of
v. 12. It is certainly to be deplored that the great moral philosopher
did not give us the benefit of his ideas on ambition in a sermon devoted to
the subject ; and further, it may be said that in his remarks on the desire
for esteem he has forgotten the passage in the Sermon on the Mount with
which we are dealing. For instance, on p. 394, Sermon I., on Human
Nature (Bohn's edition, 1876), he observes : "To have no restraint from,
no regard to others in our behaviour, is the speculative absurdity of con
sidering ourselves as single and independent, as having nothing in our
nature which has respect to our fellow-creatures, reduced to action and
practice. And this is the same absurdity as to suppose a hand, or any
part, to have no natural respect to any other, or to the whole body."
Does not the drift of this, as well as the illustration employed, go contrary
to the teaching of Christ ?
Butler's greatness as a thinker demands some consideration of this
point. On p. 390, note, he remarks : " Desire of esteem is a public pas
sion ; because the end for which it was given us is to regulate our be
haviour towards society. " So a disposition to regard our Lord's words as
paradoxical (i.e. such as can safely be disregarded) might shelter itself
under the aegis of the bishop in this way : If it be true that this desire is
natural and implanted by God for the good of society, then it is right to
act upon it ; that is to say, to pursue the esteem of mankind as an end ;
since in so doing we may be sure we are benefiting society. This line of
argument is nearly the same as that already dealt with. But we should
observe in addition that the Bishop is here arguing not about the innocence
or wholesomeness of the desire for men's esteem, but about its being a
separate thing from benevolence, and there is no writer from whom it is
more unsafe to quote isolated dicta. But apart from this, and fully ad
mitting the force of the observation quoted, do we find a discrepancy?
In the first place, it is not to be inferred that the usefulness of a certain
passion in man's nature for the benefit of society is any proof that it can
be heedlessly gratified without danger to the individual's character ; it is

RIGHTEOUS FOR MEN'S APPLAUSE 217
merely a reason for thinking that, if it be so gratified, whether the indi
vidual be benefited or not, society on the whole will gain rather than lose.
Now the importance of this fact about any natural desire does not con
sist in its giving us an excuse for its gratification, but in the evidence it
affords of the benevolence of the Author of nature. And supposing that
the beneficial effects continue even if the gratification of the passion be
excessive, foolish, and baneful to the individual, then the evidence here
spoken of is rather strengthened than weakened ; for the heedless and
wanton gratification of passions is so common among men, that society
would be in a far worse plight than it is if the result did not, in some cases
anyhow, tend to the general welfare rather than the reverse ; and the fact
that this is so should lead us to recognise a token of God's kindness rather
than of man's wisdom. Parallel cases could easily be found. Self-preser
vation is a natural instinct, and if it had not been implanted it is not con
ceivable to us how the world would go on. But if it be allowed place in a
man's mind as a dominant motive it easily degenerates into valetudinarian
ism, and leads to a wreckage of his life. Yet even this most grievous condi
tion of the individual is not always and for certain an injury to society. It
is conceivable that such a person discovers and promulgates laws of health
by which others can profit. At any rate, he may become a warning, and it
may be that some people learn more from a life so spoilt than from many
wise sayings. This, of course, is not certain, but neither is the denial of
it. Only, if it be true, it does not justify any man in deliberately so ordering
his life as to benefit others only as a deterrent.
Again, the desire for esteem is manifestly inferior as a motive of conduct to
two others — a sincere love of duty for its own sake, and a desire to do God's
will. Failing, therefore, the other two, there is no reason given by Butler
why man should not fall back on this as far as society is concerned ; but the
tone of Christ's teaching is denunciatory of this line of action as far as the
individual is concerned. Indeed, John v. 44 seems to indicate that as re
gards the highest motive of all, we become incapacitated for it by yielding
to the desire for esteem. Lastly, it should be noted that while Butler fre
quently urges the necessity of controlling all natural affections by reason,
the particular instances denounced by Christ are indicative of a pursuit not
so much of esteem as of unthinking applause, and that in a particularly
shameless and excessive way, totally divorced from any principle except sell-
gratification. Higher than this is the pleasure which accompanies the
esteem shown by men of worth and judgment ; but far higher than either
is the simple love of duty— which is remarkably ignored in the New Testa
ment — and the childlike desire to do God's will. Christ tells His followers
that to forego this higher motive for the lowest, or even the lowest but
one, is fatal.

XV
WHEN YE DO ALMS
vi. 2-4
Certain questions of interpretation arise at once out
of these verses, and certain others when we come
to apply the teaching to ordinary life. 1. The word
"do" in v. 2 seems superfluous. Has it any par
ticular force ? 2. The revisers in v. 2 change " they
have their reward " into " they have received their
reward." What time is referred to ? 3. Is the saying
in v. 3 a proverb or a parable ? 4. There is an im
portant difference again in the Revised Version, but
a question still remains : With what verb is " in secret "
to be joined — "seeth in secret" or "shall recompense
thee in secret " ? And again, it would be possible to
understand the clause "in secret" after the second
verb, " which seeth in secret, shall, in secret, recom
pense thee."
Before considering these, however, we must notice
that this is the first of three instances chosen by our
Lord of virtuous actions which can be performed in
the wrong way — almsgiving, prayer, and fasting-
performed by the Pharisees exactly as He had said
they should not be, viz., to attract attention. And a
clear decision should, if possible, be arrived at whether
(a) the same principle of non-publicity applies to all
kinds of virtuous action ; and (b) how far there is any
teaching in the words for men and women of to-day, as

WHEN YE DO ALMS 219
it is obvious in all three cases that the particular form
of publicity and display which is here denounced is
completely out of fashion at the present time. There
would probably be little dispute about either of these
points. We may assume that the three instances are
for us typical ; that is to say, it is possible that they
were chosen because the ostentation of the Pharisees
was more manifested in them than in other kinds of
action; but that is a question of no importance for us
now. It is clear that we must consider the principle
in relation to all those of our actions which have any
chance of attracting favourable notice, no matter how
utterly different may be the methods of display we
are tempted to adopt, from those in vogue in Jeru
salem in a.d. 30.
(1) "As do the hypocrites in the synagogues and in
the streets." It is interesting to observe that the
insertion of the word "do" helps to make it plain that
the descriptive words "in the synagogue and in the
streets " apply only to the " hypocrites " spoken of ;
whereas if it were omitted, these words would be
ambiguously inserted, and might perfectly well be
taken as part of a distinct particular prohibition : " Do
not sound a trumpet before thee (metaphorical, of
course) in the synagogues and in the streets, as the
hypocrites (do there and elsewhere) to get glory from
men." But by the insertion of the verb " do " the
illustration becomes obviously particular, the pro
hibition general. The paraphrase would then be :
" You have before your eyes a well-known instance
of a duty performed designedly to attract attention,
in a particular way and in particular places. Thou
art not to perform this duty with any such intention."
Clearly the broad application of the prohibition is
much assisted by the insertion of the verb. As far
as almsgiving is concerned, it is not a particular

220 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
manner but a motive which is forbidden. (2) " They
have received." The Greek word seems to mean
almost " they go away with their reward," calling up
the picture of hirelings walking away after receiving
their wages. Or it may mean " they have the proceeds
of their conduct, their reward." The point is not
important. (3) If the saying about the hands is
parabolic, then there would be an opening for some
of the strange interpretations which have been forced
upon this verse to bring out the difference between
the two hands,1 e.g. that the left hand means a man's
nearest friend, or even his wife. If it is proverbial,
then the sense may well be simply, " let your action
be not only secret from others, but, as far as possible,
unconsciously performed, not thought about afterwards."
The difference here is important. (4) " In secret,"
according to the Greek, seems to mean " in that part
of your life which is secret " ; and if so, there is no
reason why the words should not be joined according
to the sound, with the first verb " seeth " leaving the
second verb with a certain vague and unlimited force,
" shall recompense thee," the time, and manner, and
nature of the recompense not being defined.2 Indeed,
1 Vide Zahn, p. 260.
2 The Revised Version is open to criticism here. Any ordinary reader
of the T. R. would of course connect pXiirwv and iv rip Kpmrip, as
the at/ros and iv rip ipavepip make the balance of the sentence perfectly
clear. But when these two interpolations are erased, the Revised Version
is ambiguous in the English and still more in the Greek ; and the ambi
guity is due to want of punctuation. That is to say, the reader of the
Greek wants to know with which verb iv rip up is connected by the
Revisers ; and owing to there being no comma before or after " in secret "
it is not certain what the answer is. And yet in their Preface the Revisers
state that they have adopted the "heavier" system of punctuation. Pro
fessor Zahn in his Commentary (p. 262) says that if p\tnuv is connected
with iv rip KpvTTip "es ergibt sich der befremdliche Gedanke, dass das
Wissen Gottes um alles menschliche Handeln oder irdische Geschehen
den Menschen verborgen sei." But this is an unnecessary inference.
The same commentator explains iv rip xp as indicating "den Zustand der

WHEN YE DO ALMS 221
the alternative leaves the verb " seeth " in a very un
satisfactory isolation. " Shall reward thee in secret,"
sounds as if it were right, but the more closely it is
considered the less satisfactory the meaning is, espe
cially as it does not give the antithesis required. If
on the other hand the two words are joined with
"seeth," the paraphrase of the passage would be
something of this kind : " Do your alms so as
not to attract attention. Thereby you will make
almsgiving a part of your life which is hidden
from men ; but in that hidden department of life
God sees, and though you miss the reward of men's
approbation, you will receive a recompense from
God." We find, then, that our Lord after the general ad
monition concerning the wrong motive of "doing
righteousness " selects three examples of virtuous
action in which a fashion of vulgar ostentation had
grown up among those whom He stigmatises as
"hypocrites," and emphatically enjoins upon His
followers a contrary course of action in which the
performance of the duty would be as far as possible
withdrawn from men's sight. Do the words go
further than this ? Do they forbid us even more
subtle seeking for a reward, not from others but from
self ? It would be possible, if not, to obey the order
by giving alms anonymously, and then indulging in
self-congratulation, which if unrestrained would cer-
Verborgenheit als den Ort oder Bereich in welchem eine Sache oder
Person sich befindet oder ein Handlung sich vollzieht." Now, if God's
seeing in one department of life is spoken of, that is not tantamount to
saying that there is no "seeing" in any other. Therefore the words "um
alles menschliche Handlung" are an over-statement. Secondly, the
"seeing" may well be "in secret" as far as mankind generally are con
cerned, while it is not secret from the individual in question, but part of
that commerce between the individual soul and God which not only ought
not to be, but cannot be, revealed to others. So the expression "den
Menschen verborgen" requires this important qualification.

222 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
tainly exercise a baneful effect on the character.
This we may take to be forbidden by the proverbial
expression " let not thy left hand know what thy right
hand doeth." Our virtuous deeds are to be as far as
possible unconsciously done ; and where this is not
possible they should be forgotten and put out of the
mind ; anyhow not dwelt upon or brooded over.
Certain modern writers would speak of this as the
work of the unconscious or subjective mind. The
injunction commends itself at once to our instincts,
though the principle on which it rests is obscure, and
the violations of it in practice are manifold. As to
the principle, there are significant passages in the
New Testament which warn us against the habit of
brooding on the past. St. Paul's well-known words
about " forgetting those things that are behind," 1
may be taken to include past triumphs quite as
certainly as past failures. And the idea that looking
backward or thinking of what is gone is to fail in
progressing towards the higher life seems to be in
some sense akin to the idea of evolution. The
thought, however, in this verse is narrower, and
would be more correctly expressed by the term
simplicity in giving. By this is meant giving with
one motive only, viz. the benefit of the recipient,
which motive is in no way confused if the idea of
service to God be added. It is worth noticing that
this meaning depends on the proverbial saying being
1 The expression to. 6iri<rw is strikingly used in Luke ix. 62, John
vi. 66, to denote the things of this world. It is difficult to exaggerate
the emphasis with which Christ's teaching dwells on the present. In
this verse He discourages dwelling in thought on the past. In verse 31
on the future. Compare, however, the saying of Sir J. Paget that a surgeon
ought to remember his failures. This is only in appearance contradictory
to the line taken in the New Testament. Painful experiences in the past
should be remembered not only as a corrective to self-congratulation but
strictly for help in subsequent conduct of life.

WHEN YE DO ALMS 223
a proverb and not a parable, unless the left hand is
interpreted as the mind, which is very improbable.
The saying has the appearance of a colloquialism,
meaning not only a manner of giving which would be
unobserved by others but free from the least admix
ture of self-interest or arriere pense'e of any kind. But
if the single motive be the benefit of the recipient, it
is clear that careful deliberation, which is urgently
required in all charitable action in modern life, is not
excluded. Such is the principle which so rests on deep laws
of our being as to forbid any clear exposition of its
meaning. But it is not difficult to see how terribly it
is violated every day. Those of us who in conversa
tion let out any little fact as to some kindness shown
to a neighbour are guilty of disobedince to Christ's
command. The action may have been quite sincere,
but the savour of it is spoilt by self-congratulation.
To many this temptation is well-nigh irresistible. And
it is probable, that for a certain number who cannot
help revealing the morbid infection of their thoughts,
there are very many more who forbear to speak
arrogantly of their creditable actions, because they
aim at gaining credit from their neighbours. In
other words, the sin of self-congratulation must be
far commoner than open self-laudation, or vulgar
display, because it is shielded from rebuke and
ridicule so long as it is controlled by a certain
amount of prudential self-restraint; so that it may
be supposed that there is less difference in the egoism
of individuals than in their manners. It should be
noted, however, that this subject is properly only
collateral to the thought of our text. A difficult
question more germane to it is that of the degree to
which publicity in philanthropic action is required,
and how far concealment is to be regarded as the

224 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
rule, and what exceptions there are to it. In other
words, we have to balance this text by the words,
" Let your light so shine before men, that they may
see your good works, and glorify your Father which
is in heaven."
There is no sort of collision between the two utter
ances, inasmuch as the best way in the long run of
letting the light of his character shine before men is
for a Christian to fulfil the later injunction, and let
his philanthropy be governed by the spirit of charity
to all. The distinction is made clear by the motives,
one being indicated as selfish, the other as aiming at
God's glory. Yet the earlier text may be a corrective
of the later to a certain extent ; for while one would
prompt entire concealment in well-doing, there is
a certain obligation resting on us to set a good
example. It is probable that a right-minded man would have
little difficulty in this and similar questions, and that
there is sound wisdom in the text (quoted by Butler),
Eccles. xxxii. 23 : " In every good work trust thy own
soul ; for this is the keeping of the commandment."
It is quite certain, moreover, that in all questions of
conduct where duties seem to clash and every course
to be beset with some objection, people would gain
enormously in serenity of spirit if they would de
liberately set themselves to realise that, having done
their best to see what is the right thing to do, for
them all subsequent anxiety, repining, or hesitation,
is of the nature of sin.
"And thy Father, which seeth in secret, shall
recompense thee." It is not difficult to see the idea
which led to the insertion of the word " openly." It
refers to the judgment day ; and the word " Himself,"
also inserted, is probably due to a pious feeling of
God filling up the gap caused by man failing to

WHEN YE DO ALMS 225
recognise the righteousness enjoined. Yet the rejec
tion of these words is a gain. It fixes our attention
on the recompense, without intruding the notion of a
particular time, and so leads us to think of the main
suggestion of the word, the difference between the
reward taken away by the hypocrites and that re
ceived by the obedient disciple of Christ. A new
characteristic of the " hypocrite " emerges here. He
is a person to whom unthinking, silly applause is
pleasant, while to a high-minded, right-thinking man
it is abhorrent and profoundly humiliating, especially
if it is given to him for work which is manifestly
directed to God. Thus to be belauded for praying
earnestly would excite more disgust in such a man
than if he were publicly thanked for a munificent
charitable gift; but the "hypocrite" looks on both
as a "reward." They constitute the thing he has
worked for. So strongly does he feel that recog
nition, publicity, fame, or even notoriety, are ends in
themselves, purely and simply desirable, no matter
how shockingly incongruous is the foolish, noisy
admiration of ignorant men, with humble service
rendered to the Infinite God ; service which is not
only demanded of us in simple gratitude, but is
beyond anything essential to our own soul's health.
It is in the light of the principle on which our Lord's
words are based, that a man like Keble could speak of
the praise of men as a humiliation and a trial. For
ordinary persons who find it difficult to rise to such a
height of feeling it would be most salutary if they
would give their minds attentively to our Lord's
scathing words about hypocrites, and then remember
that this is a prominent and perhaps essential symptom
of hypocrisy, so to lose all sense of the true meaning
of service as to feel that the hollow and fleeting
verdicts of men are " their reward." P

226 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
It is exceedingly important to observe also that the
teaching already given about unconsciousness in deeds
of charity and kindness re-appears in the triple use of
the expression "Your Father in heaven," instead of
simply " God." That is to say, the words remind us
that we are being taught here as children, and how
to behave according to what is due from children.
Unconsciousness is one of the most beautiful char
acteristics of healthy childhood, but in again and
again insisting upon it, how severe and exacting is the
teaching of Christ ! If any ordinary teacher were to
tell people to do good unconsciously, or even with
simplicity, the exhortation would be thought to be
useless. Man cannot change his nature, and the aim
ing at unconsciousness in action is fraught with failure
from the outset. Why, then, is it that the same
teaching from Christ is received with all reverence ?
The difference is that His own example was flawless,
and the whole occasion of the teaching was con
ditioned by the fact that the Divine Spirit was soon
going to be given to men. Without these two facts,
not even from our Lord, not even when couched in
words of matchless power, would the teaching on
this and many other subjects have been anything
better than a claim hopelessly remote from man's
power to fulfil.
" Shall recompense thee " : literally, " make a re
turn to thee for what thou hast lost," viz. men's
attention and applause. The promise is immensely
the richer for being undefined. As it stands, it
suggests by its very reticence the infinite bounty of
God. The Christian has actively to shun publicity
and display in his deeds of kindness, and at first may
well feel the want of recognition and the silence of
the onlookers, especially when they have been full of
expectation of something out of the common. But

WHEN YE DO ALMS 227
he may repeat to himself the words chosen with a
kind of ironical understatement, as if a bare com
pensation for a loss were all that the Son of God
could hold out to His followers ; the truth, neverthe
less, being that what is promised, so far from being
adequately described in this reserved but pregnant
word, is spoken of elsewhere by one of those who
were the first to test the truth of the divine encourage
ment in the well-known outburst of gratitude, " Eye
hath not seen nor hath ear heard."

XVI
THE HYPOCRITES AT PRAYER
vi. s
The picture here drawn by Christ of the behaviour of
" the hypocrites " demands close attention, as giving
a startling exposure of the depths of self-deceit into
which human nature is capable of falling. It is a
picture drawn in the soberest colours, without com
ment or adjective, but with a compelling power due
to the selection of facts. Prayer offered by the in
dividual to God is wholly without meaning unless
distractions are kept from the mind. Our experience
testifies to this. Nothing is so difficult as to secure
the mind from distracting thoughts during prayer,
but no one tries to pray without trying to do this
difficult and discouraging thing all the time, evidently
under the conviction that thoughts which interrupt
the communion with God utterly destroy prayer ; and
if men fail in keeping free from distractions, sooner or
later they cease to try to pray. But these men in
Jerusalem and elsewhere put themselves to much in
convenience to be distracted as much as possible
while they prayed. They chose certain places, not
because they were quiet, but because they were
crowded ; and they made it impossible for their minds
to be fixed on God, because they purposely turned
their thoughts throughout on man. Their object was
to hear expressions of admiration from the onlookers ;
=28

THE HYPOCRITES AT PRAYER 229
if they heard them they attended to them ; if they did
not hear them still they listened for them. Again, the
section of the public who could have bestowed admi
ration on such conduct must have been the most
foolish and ignorant. Thus human beings, fully con
scious of their relation to the unseen Author of their
being and the Creator of all things, somehow per
suaded themselves that it was worth much trouble to
gain credit from the dregs of the populace for praying
under conditions which made prayer impossible.
Never has man been the victim of a more pitiable
hallucination !
Again, we note that there is nothing about man more
real than his almost unquenchable instinct of prayer
to God. Experience shows that our spiritual vitality
depends on it. No one can quite explain why, but
countless voices have testified to the unmistakably
strengthening effects of earnest prayer. But these men
bartered this priceless heritage to secure that which,
by the unanimous verdict of all, is the most unreal, the
most fleeting and unmeaning thing, as well as the most
mischievous if it be welcomed and listened to, namely,
the applause of ignorant, vulgar, and foolish people.
Volumes of books have been written to prove how
fame of this sort is a hollow and deceptive phantom,
utterly useless and unreal ; and to grasp this, as they
thought, these men used, and in using destroyed, the
most godlike faculty with which man is endowed —
his power of communion with the Most High. It is
that which gives man his decisive primacy among
created things, and the awfulness of the picture con
sists in its record that man has been able to degrade
the very noblest part of his complex being in the
attempt to lay hold of a contemptible shadow. This,
again, is behaviour stigmatised as hypocrisy ; and we
have to add to the notions of a hypocrite, already

230 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
given us in the great Sermon, this particular trait
— he makes use of what is most sacred and lofty, in
men's conceptions and feelings, for purposes utterly
mundane, and, moreover, inconsistent with what he
acknowledges to be his own deepest convictions.
This feature in the hypocrite's character is to be cor
related with others. Meantime, it is probable that
this kind of self-satisfied unconscious waste of life is
the outcome of Satan's most deadly work. It is a
triumph for him as the deceiver of mankind, and,
moreover, a profound mystery. Other failures tell of
something good in itself perverted or running riot
from want of control. But this denotes a corruption
in the very centre of man's being, by which the noblest
part of him is distorted and ruined, while he strives
for the possession of a thing of naught.
There is a singular reserve in the Saviour's simple
words, which may be thus modernised : " When ye
pray ye shall not be as the actors who like to pray
standing in crowded places, that they may be seen of
men." The absence of all condemnatory terms is
striking, but the picture is given in just enough detail
to show the full depravity of the hypocritical spirit.
It is as if some actions are so bad that they only re
quire to be stated in order to ensure condemnation.
And yet this particular action was admired by the
common run of people in Jerusalem.1
1 It is hardly necessary to explain that, even taken quite literally, this
passage does not discountenance public worship, though, of course, it is
quite possible to go to church in order to gain credit from others. But if
some commonly received opinions about public worship were sincerely and
deeply held, there might easily be a great confusion. It is sometimes
thought that people gather together in church in order to add weight and
force to their petitions. This, is the selfish view of prayer, difficult to
uproot. And many who shrink from putting it thus clearly to themselves
openly avow that the sermon is the principal attraction, or not unfrequently
the principal deterrent. It is, in short, lamentably easy to mistake altogether
the meaning and purpose of going to church. Worship is not the wringing

THE HYPOCRITES AT PRAYER 231
of favours from God by stress of petition, but the common expression of
our best common feelings — hopes, needs, and aspirations ; and we gather
together largely to assist each other, since many of these emotions can
hardly be expressed in solitude. Other emotions require exercise, but also
restraint, both of which are given by co-operation. So much concerns the
Godward aspect of worship. Towards each other we need constant re
minders of our solidarity in respect of all our highest interests or faculties.
Many of these are directly fostered by well-ordered public worship. All
that is artistic ; the taste for painting, sculpture, architecture, and music
should be stimulated and consecrated ; our instinct for history should be
gratified by the ancient prayers in which we join, as well as by the
lessons read ; and no linguistic taste is so fastidious as to fail of satis
faction in the words of our Liturgy. Our services, in short, are artistic
and archaeological ; what they apparently, but only apparently, lack is
modernism. But to show the true modern application of the venerable
words which we either listen to or repeat is the function of the sermon.
Prayer is only a small part of public worship, and, of course, is only social
in tone.

XVII
THE BELIEVERS AT PRAYER
vi. 6
After thus cautioning His hearers against the wrong
motive, our Lord warns them against the wrong
manner of praying ; the first was ascribed to " the
hypocrites," the next to " the Gentiles," and it is de
scribed in the difficult phrase translated, " Use not
vain repetitions." Scholars have given many different
renderings.1 The verb may mean to repeat solemn
grand words without thinking, or meaningless trivial
words ; or merely to make sounds without minding
what they mean, or whether they mean anything.
But whatever be the derivation of the word, the bear
ing of it is indicated by the next phrase, " They think
that they shall be heard for their much speaking."
Men had got into a way of believing that there was
some merit in mere words, and so the more of them
the better. This, as so stated, seems at first to denote
an insane travesty of prayer. But it is enormously
1 " Enter into thine inner chamber." St. Augustine has some lofty
thoughts on these words, as if they applied to men communing with their
own hearts, and he asks why this is distasteful to many, suggesting the
answer that the corruption of the heart makes it unpleasant to retire to.
This, doubtless, would be so in some cases, but the difficulty which many
good people find in solitary meditation arises from inability to concentrate
the thoughts and from lack of imagination. But the subject does not
properly belong at all to this text, and it is a good instance of a needless
figurative interpretation.

THE BELIEVERS AT PRAYER 233
common. Not to go beyond the confines of our own
religious communion, wherever any one attends public
worship without honestly exercising his mental facul
ties, or carelessly repeats a form of words in private,
he is acting as if there were some merit in sound of
words, or in repetition apart from the mind. And
what are we to say of the very common practice of
inaudible reading in church, or of reading which is so
mannered as wholly to disguise the meaning of the
words ? Bad reading aloud is a peculiarly English
fault, and to it may be attributed some of the distaste
for public worship which prevails among educated
people. The time comes when an utter waste of
the effort of listening becomes, to many minds, un
bearable. It would be well if we thought oftener of the
immeasurable wonder of language in connexion
with this subject. Every word is in itself a record
of man's mental history. When it first took shape
it witnessed to the birth of a new idea or a new fact,
and as it continued to live it gathered numberless
subtle associations from other words with which it
was blended, from the experience of men which
evoked its use, or from the way their lips fashioned
the sound of it. So all words register, from their
own special cluster of associations, and in varying
degree, the changes in human thought and know
ledge, and if they are now in use they continually
change according to the way we treat them, which
again depends on what we think about them and
how we pronounce them. Therefore, whether we
will or no, by speaking everybody influences to
some slight extent the nature of this most wonder
ful fact in man's life — language ; each person passes
on to posterity a group of words for their use which
he has slightly modified, not by studied effort or of

234 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
set purpose at all, but by simply living and talking to
his fellow-men. If we have done anything to de
prave language, we have made life a little harder for
our descendants, a little less likely to give them day
by day the uplifting influence of hearing clean words
clearly and wholesomely chosen and uttered. And so
there is a responsibility resting on us all in respect of
the use of ordinary words.
But how much more in the matter of prayer ? A
great prayer which has been transmitted to us by our
forefathers is vastly more than a chance collection of
sounds or symbols ; it is the expression of the highest
moments of a holy life lived on earth, concentrated
into a few lines of printed matter, but the outcome of
his best experience in the noblest activity of which a
human being is capable, viz. communing with God ;
and so it is the ultimate translation, intelligible to us, of
things which cannot be uttered. This definition would
include both poetry and music, but that is no indict
ment against it, since the finest forms of prayer em
brace both. There is that in the collects of our Prayer
Book which can only be called a blending of poetry
and music in perfect English prose, so that even the
sound of the words and their matchless rhythm sug
gest to us thoughts which are not of earth. But we
are not to rest content with the sound. That is exactly
the state of mind about prayer which is positively and
clearly forbidden by this text, " Use not vain repeti
tions." If the sound of the words has something
glorious about it, yet we are not to suppose that the
repetition of the sounds has anything in it acceptable to
God. That is the plainest meaning of the prohibition
against using words without giving the mind to their
signification, the practice which might be designated
by the Anglicised form of the Greek word, battalogy.
We are also cautioned against supposing that prayer

THE BELIEVERS AT PRAYER 235
to be acceptable must necessarily be long continued.
But, on the other hand, shortness by itself is not a
merit, though in modern times it is difficult not to
think so. Our stately Liturgy is the outcome of a
vigorous process of curtailment and excision ; and
there is an inclination constantly operative towards a
still further shortening as life becomes more and more
restless. But first we had better see clearly what this
prohibition means. When we offer petitions to a
human being there are good reasons for relying on
urgent reiteration of the request. Men's power of
saying " No " can often be beaten down by persistency,
independently of the reasonableness of the petition ;
a characteristic of humanity recognised in the parable
of the Unjust Judge. Why, then, are we not to transfer
to our prayers the practice of persevering enumeration
of our wants ? The answer is given in the following
saying, which at once alters our whole conception of
prayer in the sense of petition for favours : " For
your Father knoweth what things ye have need of
before ye ask Him." J
Many readers must have felt a certain disappoint
ment that our Lord does not apparently recognise
the exceedingly common difficulty of praying, namely,
wandering thoughts. In short, among men and women
of the present day there is a vast proportion who are
beset either with this difficulty, or with another which
at first sight is far different, viz. the quasi-scientific idea
that the course of nature is uniform, that everything,
even a spiritual, phenomenon, has its cause, and there
fore what is to be will be. But different though these
two difficulties seem to be, they lead practically to the
same result ; people in large numbers leave off pray
ing at all, unless a perfunctory attendance at the
1 The logical question which arises from this will be considered in the
next section, p. 238.

236 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
worship of the congregation could be called by that
name. But it will be found that the two prohibitions with
which the Lord's Prayer is introduced do in reality
recognise these very difficulties. The first, which in
its English shape might be called " Battalogy," is
not the feeling of a tendency to wandering thoughts,
still less perseverance in wrestling with them, but
acquiescence in mental heedlessness during prayer ; in
short, the succumbing to one of the deadliest temp
tations of humanity — spiritual sloth. The innermost
vice of " vain repetitions " is not the repetitions, but
their vanity, which is due to their lifelessness, the
absence of all living action of the mind. Repetition
in prayer may be harmless or even necessary ; and we
should hesitate to say that our Lord never repeated a
petition during the long nights which He spent pray
ing. Thus we are forbidden to give in to mental and
spiritual sloth while at prayer. " We must not be
stupider than we can help," 1 neither must we dream
of praying without effort. There Christ leaves the
subject, probably because, however common and dis
tressing may be the infirmity of wandering thoughts
or cold-heartedness, it is exceedingly simple both to
understand and to deal with. It requires only the
application of common-sense for us to see that we
know enough to be able to overcome the weakness by
degrees, and there is nothing to wonder at in Christ's
not following out a subject which is well within the
scope of our own minds. The difficulty, in short,
solvitur ambulando : as Archbishop Temple used to
say, " Is it impossible ? then make it possible by doing
it." No revelation from God is needed for this pur
pose. We require simply (1) to pray for help before
beginning ; (2) to grasp the principles of prayer as
1 Canon Moberley, quoted in Church Quarterly, May 1904.

THE BELIEVERS AT PRAYER 237
taught in the Lord's Prayer ; (3) the discipline of
practice ; (4) patience with the slowness of our pro
gress ; (5) perseverance ; (6) to recognise that wrestling
effort is an inherent characteristic of prayer in the
Bible, from Gen. xxxii. 36 (Jacob and the Angel) to
the word " strive," Eph. vi. 18 ; and Rev. vi. 10 ;
(7) to remember that genuine dissatisfaction in such
a matter is a sign of life, and common to all prayerful
people ; (8) certainty of conviction that the promises
attached to earnest effort in prayer will not fail
(xvi. 24, and reff.).

XVIII
THE LORD'S PRAYER
vi. 9
There has been much discussion and much diver
gence of opinion on the question whether the Pater
Noster is in its right place in our Gospel or in Luke xi.
2. Some scholars maintain that our Lord must have
delivered it twice, a theory which others denounce as
if it were a kind of subterfuge, though plainly there is
much to be said in its support, and it is impossible to
disprove. For the benefit of those who decide such
questions on authority, it may be stated that the major
ity of modern scholars regard the Matthean form of
words as the more authentic, not the Lukan setting, the
idea being that St. Luke altered certain phrases, which
were Jewish in their character, to suit his Gentile readers.
No one could well dispute the possibility of this ;
but the question sinks into unimportance compared
with the statement handed down by both Evangelists
that the Saviour gave His followers a model prayer.
It is advisable, therefore, to consider the purport and
significance of this independently, first, of the critical
question, the reason being that we crave guidance as
to the thorny problem noticed by our Lord in Matt.
vi. 8, viz. that God knows what things we have need
of before we ask Him. Why, then, pray at all ?
Secondly, there is the interesting theory that in the
passage before us the instruction runs ; " After this
238

THE LORD'S PRAYER 239
manner therefore pray ye," i.e. betokening that Christ
gave to the Apostles not a form of words to be strictly
adhered to, but a model prayer, on the broad prin
ciples of which all other prayers were to be based.
It is possible to hold that this theory is necessary as a
defence against the charge of our uttering " vain re
petitions " if we repeat the prayer as a form of words,
and the question may easily be viewed according to
the preference felt for liturgical or extemporary prayer
in church services.
The former of these two questions is familiar to all
who have thought on our relation to God. Logically
it is impossible to explain why a creature should peti
tion his Creator if he sincerely believes that the Creator
not only knows all his wants, but will certainly satisfy
them as far as his spiritual interests allow. But we
soon penetrate into a region where logic fails to guide
us. Who can justify logically the spontaneous peti
tion of a child to his earthly father ? We believe that
the father knows and is ready to meet every need of
his child. None the less, if the child were induced by
any means, either by knowing his father's general feel
ing or from a cowering fear, to hold his tongue and
never utter any of his wants, we should agree that the
relation between the two was unnatural. Moreover,
in such a matter a wise agnosticism is needed. It is
impossible to define the effect of mind upon mind.
An earthly father might well be justified in withhold
ing gifts from a child who, after being told to bring
his wants to his father, refused to do so ; and it is idle
to argue that the son's needs are the same, whether he
utters them or not, and that God does not require to
be informed of our needs as an earthly father does.
Such pleas ignore the fact that what is at stake is not
the satisfaction of certain wants, but the deep personal
relation between finite beings and the infinite God,

240 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
which relation is helped or hindered according as we
approach Him freely and naturally, and there is no
such thing conceivable as a free and natural approach
to the heavenly Father by His children, which does
not partly consist of a spontaneous utterance of what
ever need presses most at the moment. Again, the
fitness of the creature to receive is affected by his
uttering or keeping silence about his wants. No one
who has done his best to pray will dispute St. Augus
tine's assertion, that without our asking our capacity
for receiving is unequal to the task ; asking enlarges
it, and this must be one of the senses underlying the
words, " Ask, and ye shall receive." There is, in short,
some danger of our falling into a mechanical way of
conceiving of our relation to God, which certainly
ought to be corrected by reflection on human rela
tionships. And nothing could be more distinct than
the insisting on this analogy by our Lord. His very
use of the terms " Father " and " Children " is a lesson
to us to transfer all that is highest in our notions of
the human family to the relation in which we stand to
God. And even if this were not so, He treats the
logical difficulty as of no account whatever, not by
answering it, but by forcing it on the listeners' atten
tion by the juxtaposition of vi. 8 with the requests for
gifts contained in the Pater Noster. And the requests
contained in the prayer are exactly those which, being
for fundamental necessities, God knows our need of
without our telling Him. No teaching could more
decisively refuse to notice the logical difficulty than
this. And that is not because the difficulty has be
come more acute than it was then, owing to the ad
vance of science or from any other cause, but simply
because it has always been formidable only by taking
account of a small proportion of the facts of the case.
The second question — whether the Saviour here

THE LORD'S PRAYER 241
gave a form of words to be used, or only a model
prayer, the principles of which were to be followed
though the words might be departed from — is less
important than might be supposed, and probably will
always remain uncertain. The facts are that in the
Lukan tradition (xi. 2) Christ is reported as giving a
form of words : " When ye pray, say . . ." In the
passage before us the words are less definite : " After
this manner therefore pray ye." J Supposing — what is
not certain — that this is an instruction only to imitate
the prayer, not to use the actual words, we still have
to reckon with the Lukan tradition ; and that, again,
depends on whether we accept the theory that the
insertion of the Lord's Prayer in the Sermon on the
Mount is due to the compilers ; or whether, on the
other hand, it really was part of the Sermon, and that
the tradition followed by St. Luke was erroneous ; or,
thirdly, whether Christ dictated the words twice. We
can hardly be wrong in thinking that, no matter what
diligence is expended on ransacking of evidence ;
whatever answer is given by individual scholars to
these questions, there will be for many years to
come divergency of opinion ; also that personal pre
dilections, associations of childhood, and peculiarities
of temperament are bound to influence the deci
sion to an even greater extent than usual. For
whereas apparently little hangs on the question
whether the words of the prayer were given once or
twice, yet much controversy has been stirred by the
difference between extemporary prayer and prayer
according to a set form of words. Further, even if
it could be proved that the Matthean tradition was
authentic, there is no possibility that this would alter
the practice of millions of Christians who have used
the words of the Pater Noster, from childhood
1 So Zahn, but cf. Alford in loc. 9

242 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
onwards, in public and private prayer. Still less that
Christians would so modify the education of their
children as to abandon the set form, and train
them only to pray according to the principles in
dicated in the model prayer. In other words, even
though criticism should ultimately achieve full success
in proving that the Matthean form is nearer to what
we may suppose Christ originally said, yet there would
be no warrant for our departing from present practice
in education ; and that would constitute a strong
reason for our continuing ourselves as adults to do
as we have always done, since whatever may be the
objections to a set form, there is no reason to suppose
that they are not to be met by a little reflection, vigil
ance, and effort of will. But as we are an immense
distance from certainty as to what our Lord actually
did say in introducing the Pater Noster, it is difficult
not to infer provisionally that, with His knowledge of
man's tendency to formalism, if He had wished to
warn His followers definitely against using a set form
of/words, He would have made the matter clearer than
by simply saying, " After this manner therefore pray
ye." Any one could have foreseen, what has actually
occurred, that with such a very light, almost imper
ceptible, warning to reckon with, man would allow
himself with a feeling of relief to fall back on the set
form as delivered by divine authority.
If this conclusion seems to some minds illiberal and
antiquated, it is well to put clearly the alternative.
Supposing it granted that any form of words is a
fettering of the human spirit in its intercourse with
the divine, then surely even an indication of the prin
ciples of prayer is a fettering, though possibly in a less
degree. Why did not Christ leave us without a hint
or suggestion ? The safest answer to return to His
followers (Luke xi. i) would have been to the effect

THE LORD'S PRAYER 243
that they could trust their own spiritual aspirations to
lead them right ; that the intercourse of a finite being
with the Infinite is best left to its own inner stimulus,
so as to be a kind of emotion-exercise acting in ways
not to be translated in speech at all, just as at the
present day there are many who profess a conviction,
that for them the best way of praying is to deliver
themselves to the influences of natural scenery or art,
to commune with nature in solitude and passivity,
through the medium of fair sights or sounds, land
scapes, pictures, or music. But Christ certainly acted
on a contrary assumption in regard to prayer. Ac
cording to our authorities, He anyhow gave His
countenance to the idea that prayer has to do with
words and has principles of its own, and takes the
form of definite requests, and thus has to be distin
guished from vague inarticulate communings, how
ever beneficial these may be to the spirit harassed by
worldly cares. There is no reason why such emotion-
exercises should be called prayer because they meet
certain modern needs of educated men ; nor why, if
they meet certain needs, they should be supposed to
meet the same needs as prayer, and in a better way.
We have, in short, a scale of spiritual processes,
which may be distinguished thus : (1) Prayer in a set
form of words ; (2) Prayer with words not prescribed ;
(3) Vague communings with nature or art ; (4) Vari
ous forms of weak spiritual activity, fading away into
nothing at all. At what point in this scale does prayer
cease to be prayer ? The answer is : Where it passes
from being regulated petition to being unregulated
expression or exercise of emotion, i.e. somewhere at
the beginnings of (3). We say " regulated," because
when prayer is most truly deserving of the name it
conforms to the grand principles taught by the
enunciation of the Pater Noster ; to this, in par-

244 ™E SERMON ON THE MOUNT
ticular — that desire for God's glory is to take pre
cedence of the desire for the satisfaction of man's
need. In other words, prayer must have its centre,
not in man's self but in God ; and if it departs alto
gether from this principle it can only be called prayer
by a sort of figure of speech. Again, as to its being
necessarily offered in words either spoken aloud or
thought, it has often been said that prayer in some
cases rises above all forms of words into an inter
course too deep for utterance. This is no doubt true.
But there should be no difficulty in distinguishing this
from (3). When prayer thus rises above words it is
due, not to its vagueness, but to its intensity ; not to
its impersonal character, but to its being directed
with ever - deeper consciousness to One who is a
Person ; and before it reaches this stage it is in
actual experience almost sure to consist and be bound
up with words. Christ deals with it, then, in the.
earlier stage in which men commonly conceive of
it, and not with such forms of spiritual activity as are
classed under the term religious meditation, or with
any passive reception of spiritual influences. And if
we are inclined to regret that He did not teach the
value of unfettered communings with God wholly apart
from words, it is well to remember that the degree in
which words hamper spiritual activity depends on their
character. If they express deep and universal truths,
instantly recognised by the human mind everywhere,
there is nothing in them to fetter our spirits, since we
only gain from them guidance, which is a very dif
ferent thing from hindrance. It is probable that ex
periences in such matters differ ; but there must be
many to whom familiar forms of words, in congrega
tional praying at all events, are free from one serious
objection to which extemporary or novel words are
exposed — that is, they do not excite the mind to think

THE LORD'S PRAYER 245
on what may be coming next, but leave all the
energies unimpeded to concentrate on the act of
personal communion with an unseen Being.

The Main Idea of the Lord's Prayer.
There can be very little question that the structure
of this prayer is designed to teach a deep and distinct
principle, viz. that the glory of God is to take prece
dence of the welfare of man. Students of the prayer
from time immemorial have agreed upon this. The
opening petitions refer to God, asking that His name
(man's idea of His attributes) may be hallowed, that
His kingdom may come, and His will be done ; all
this on earth as in heaven. Then the thought passes
on to man as the agent in bringing this about. If
God's will is to be done on earth it must be by men,
therefore man prays for his necessities ; unless these
are supplied he can do nothing. Such is the deep
and simple idea which links together the various
clauses of the prayer.
But when we come to put clearly before ourselves
the principle that God's glory is to take precedence of
man's need — in other words, of service to him — we are
at once confronted with a difficulty. To a vast num
ber of minds the distinction is not clear, or if it is
fairly clear it is unacceptable. This point requires
careful treatment.
It might be contended by a large majority of pro
fessing Christians of our day, that a life devoted to the
service of man satisfies all just requirements. It is
capable of infinite self-denial ; it recognises the one
certain spiritual fact which may be called universal,
namely, the voice of conscience; and it is with a feeling
of no little relief that the modern Western European,
tossed with conflicting rumours about the unsettlement

246 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
of old beliefs, the results of the latest research, the dis
covery of alien mythical influences on early Christian
belief, and so on, turns to making his life one of con
tinuous service to his fellow-men ; to the raising of
their ideas, the improvement of their surroundings,
the bettering of their education, and so forth. Such a
summum bonum is well adapted to the practical rest
less spirit of the world of our day. It is often spoken
of as practical Christianity, and its votaries recognise
that in a sense it may be called " morality tinged with
emotion," or, better perhaps, " faith working by love " ;
for it soon becomes plain that mere practical efforts
to help others are of no use unless the spirit in which
they are made is quickened with true charity. And
in the opinion of such people the attempt to realise
the primary importance of the claims of God's glory
is unprofitable for many who may truly be called
followers of Christ ; and if unprofitable, then also
weakening to the moral fibre and a hindrance to
progress. It is so easy to talk about these deep
principles and end by ignoring others which lie far
nearer to our daily life, and so by doing nothing of any
value to any one. Surely goodness must show itself
in action, in its fruits ; and if so, then the more per
sistent is the striving after results and the more devoted
the life of practical service, the better.
Such a creed as this is compatible, of course, with
recognition that the sense of God's presence and of
hourly dependence on Him is a beautiful gift, and
that thanksgiving is due from those who can say they
have received it in any perceptible measure, but that
meantime the life of " practical religion " must not be
rated as of less value or dignity. Indeed, there is a
great deal to be said in its favour by comparison with
the other ; it lacks the highest kind of inspiration
perhaps, but it aims high and not unfrequently

THE LORD'S PRAYER 247
achieves its ideal. It is uncontentious and unassum
ing ; and though there is in them less of the motive-
power of enthusiasm, the practical Christians claim
that they accomplish a work so valuable that much
of the truest progress of civilisation depends on it,
and that if all good men were of the religiously
enthusiastic sort, the world would be a far inferior
place to live in ; man would have a far feebler grip
on the resources of nature, and far more of our time
would be spent in strife.
This view of religion is too widely held to be put
on one side simply as unscriptural, or unorthodox, or
untrue. To judge as iar as we can from spoken or
written words, it is the guiding principle of many
beautiful lives. This, however, is not the place for an
adequate discussion of it. But it is important to
remark that such a view of life and duty is in flat
opposition to the teaching of the Lord's Prayer. It
is, of course, the view of religion which is called
naturalistic, and assumes that the fact of conscience
is all that man need accept as a guide to conduct, and
that as to conduct, the relation of men to each other
is all that really matters. But obviously the Lord's
Prayer places first that which naturalism places no
where, such subjects as our idea of God, our con
ception of His power and love, the spread of His
acknowledged sovereignty on earth ; while of man's
relation to his fellow-men nothing is said except in
the very striking pendent to the petition for forgive
ness towards the end of the prayer. As many of
those who profess to be " naturalists " in religion
profess also to be warm admirers of the Lord's
Prayer, it is plain that there is here some confusion
of thought.
The truth is that while nothing is gained by trying
to show that naturalism is defective, a great deal is to be

248 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
gained by realising that even in its simplest statement
it assumes facts about our relation to God which, so
to speak, more than justify the doctrine of the Lord's
Prayer. For in affirming that the principle of service
to others is sufficient in itself, it assumes that the server
is somehow inspired with an idea of good which need
not be questioned. And the more he declines to discuss
what this idea is and whence it came, the more
honour he pays to it as a beacon light of his life,
however much there may be of defect and risk
involved in his stopping short at this point ; that
is to say, he is ordering his life according to a creed
which, though he may never put it into words, starts
with a magnificent affirmation : " I believe that I and
others are endowed with a craving for what is good,
and with a power of attaining to it more and more
in my own life, and of introducing it more and more
into the lives of others."
If this is so, then praise is due to some one, unless
it be supposed that the source of this " unspeakable
gift " is a lifeless thing, which few " naturalists " would
have the hardihood to aver. And if praise is
thus due to a Being, the " naturalist " concedes
the essential doctrine of the Lord's Prayer, since he
who is led by his convictions to praise a beneficent
Being must also wish others to praise Him too ; and
this is the desire expressed in the leading petitions
of the Prayer. Can life lead to anything better
than the raising among men of the idea of such a
Being (this is God's glory), or than so working as
to manifest daily and hourly His heavenly sway over
our thoughts, words, and deeds ?
Reflection therefore seems to show that in spite of
the too lowly professions of its votaries the " religion
of duty " is no such bald and barren thing as is often
supposed ; and this, not because its acknowledged

THE LORD'S PRAYER 249
scope is ample, or that its denials have any value
in them, but because its root assumptions are,
often unconsciously, in agreement with the principles
of the Lord's Prayer ; that is to say, they postulate as
a governing fact in human life a certain illumination
of man's spirit from some source of life and light,
marvellous in its power and permanence, which
moves those who recognise it to love and praise and
deeds of thanksgiving.

The Two Divisions of the Prayer.
It is easy to see that the first three petitions concern
God's glory ; the last four man's fundamental needs.
But there is a deep significance in the fact of the first
group being enjoined upon man at all.
What is the meaning of God's glory ? Perhaps the
simplest answer is to be found in the petitions
themselves. The first asks that God, as revealed
among men, may be honoured and revered ; that
man's idea of His attributes may be high and holy.
The second is a prayer that among mankind God's
sovereignty may be perceived and known so that
righteousness, peace, and love, and other character
istics of His sway, may spread among the human
community who would own His dominion. The
third asks that what God wills may be fulfilled in
man's conduct. Thus those whom God created are to
ask Him to further among themselves (1) reverence for
His revealed attributes ; (2) spread of His sway ;
(3) accomplishment of His will. All these together
teach us what is meant by the glory of God.
Now when our Lord told His disciples to pray for
these things it was tantamount to His telling them
that what man conceives of as objects, so to speak,
set before God in the fact of His having created the

250 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
world, and especially man, are objects which are to be
attained by man's co-operating with his Creator ; but
that the success of this co-operation depends on God,
though, as far as we can tell, man's endeavour is
essential to it. This underlying idea, which contains
one of the great contradictions involved in the rela
tion of the finite to the infinite, suggests also that
the grand object of Creation, viz. the progressive
realisation of the Creator among the created, is to
be achieved through resistance ; also that the first
essential is that God shall be appealed to to over
come it. The great paradox may be expressed in
many other ways ; but this is enough to indicate
the incomparable depth and immeasurable scope of
these opening words, which reveal to us at once the
mighty fact that God has created us men with wills
free to resist Him, and that this freedom is respected
by Him. For instance, when we ask that God's will
may be done on earth as in heaven, we remember that
it is by us men that it has to be done ; God does not
accomplish His own will without us. That is wonder
ful enough, but the petition further implies that this
agency on man's part is impossible for man unless
God gives him the necessary power ; otherwise,
the petition would be wholly superfluous. With
the utmost simplicity therefore and distinctness the
opening of the prayer enlightens man as to the
unutterable grandeur of his vocation, the dignity of
the bare fact of his existence as a created being, and
we feel as we consider the purport of the words
that in the contradictions which our limited under
standings can discern lies not a disproof but rather
a guarantee of truth.

THE LORD'S PRAYER 251
"Thy Kingdom Come."
These words clearly point out to man his true
vocation. Whatever we do in life, the forwarding
of their fulfilment is to be our grand aim, and it
may be in part attained if we realise that the best
way of manifesting the power of God, His supremacy
in our lives, and the victoriousness of His influence,
is by showing the sufficiency of His dominion when
it is unmixed with worldly support of any kind. In
other words, just when religion is most difficult is
the time when it reveals the power of the Divine
grace. Such supports to goodness as sound health
and a happy disposition, friends and a competence,
and the like, may help to keep us in the right way,
but they make it practically impossible for us to show
how the highest life needs God alone for its support,
and its enriching. As long as we are compassed
about with this world's goods — and many are so com
passed who cannot help it — there is less opportunity
for extending the acknowledgment of God's sovereignty
in matters of daily life than if we were in want. People
have little difficulty in recognising in a kind of theo
retical fashion how God rules the world through the
great movements in history, the shock of nations, the
settlements of the great families of the earth, and the
larger issues of man's activity. But what nearly every
body craves for is some little evidence of the reality of
His kingdom in daily life, among its obscure common
place experiences. If the Kingdom is not there, it is
of little use indeed to have its march traced for us in
the career of Charlemagne, or the preparation of Greek
philosophy for St. Paul's teaching, or the discovery of
the New World ; because there is so much difficulty
in seeing how "the trivial round, the common task,
will furnish all we need to ask." Indeed, they furnish

252 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
nothing unless they are lit with something of a light
that is not of this world. They seem to testify often
of nothing but men's power of enduring routine.
How different would things be if those whose lives
are maimed and poor, bereft of nearly all that kindles
enthusiasm or wins love, would remind themselves
daily that to their keeping especially is committed the
task of spreading God's kingdom, since they have
received the first great equipment for the work,
namely, by being disembarrassed of fictitious helps
and supports, so that their onward progress can be
seen to be due to nothing but the sustaining power of
the Holy Spirit. And this takes place just when life
is most bewildering and apparently hopeless ; then
they have it within their reach to bear witness to the
reality of God's kingdom in daily life.
It is easy, of course, to frame recommendations for
those who are stripped of all life's joys ; but Christ
was not heartless. In giving us this petition to offer,
He gave us the clue to the great problem. There
should be nothing to prevent our fixing our minds
intently on the prayer from early days onwards, " or
ever the silver cord be loosed," so that when the
distress comes we shall not require to turn our faces
to a new quarter of the heavens, but simply to fix our
eyes more steadily on the light that has all along been
the " master light of all our seeing." However much
the serenity of sufferers may be ascribed by others to a
special endowment, it remains true that we might all
of us prepare ourselves long before the day of trial by
taking into our souls this deep and simple principle,
that the truest ambassadors of Christ on earth are those
who, in the collapse of worldly hopes, let others see the
strength of their trust in Him ; and also that if we can
thus fulfil our embassage to our fellow-men, we are ful
filling all that which we were sent into the world to do.

THE LORD'S PRAYER 253
Having now gained some idea of the meaning
of the opening clauses, we next discover that in the
fourth petition we rather abruptly pass to the subject
of men's needs considered without immediate refer
ence to God's glory ; though, of course, the under
lying suggestion is that if the accomplishment of the
will of the Most High is in any way entrusted to
us men, it must plainly be our duty to ask that
certain necessaries of spiritual and physical life be
supplied, the withholding of which would make it
impossible that we could even attempt to play our
part in the drama of life, viz., the fulfilling of God's
purpose in creating us as free agents for the further
ance of His glory. If we bear in mind this pre
amble to the following petitions, it becomes a matter
of supreme interest to ascertain what our Lord put
first among the necessaries of life. At first it seems
as if His words refer simply to the preservation of
our physical existence. But before we can say this,
we have to determine as far as possible the meaning
of a difficult word.

"Our Daily Bread."
The word translated "daily" is not found in any
other Greek writing, and has given rise to the greatest
variety of conjecture. One thing quite certain is that
in the Lukan version of the prayer the adjective is
tautological : " Give us day by day our daily bread "
(R.V.), and this has led scholars to favour the two
following interpretations among others : (a) " Give us
to-day just so much as is needed for to-day to meet
our physical requirements " ; (b) " Give us to-day our
bread for to-morrow." In considering the bearing
of these two meanings, and remembering how the
petition marks a transition of thought in the prayer,

254 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
we are probably inclined to prefer (a) as more ap
propriate. Without discussing the technical reasons
for the one as against the other, it will be useful to
indicate clearly the difference between them, and their
similarity. (b) is the less simple, and appears at first sight to
contradict the command contained in vi. 34, " Suffi
cient unto the day is the evil thereof," and " Be not
anxious for the morrow." How can that command
be obeyed if in our model prayer we pray for the gift
of to-morrow's necessaries ? But as soon as the ques
tion is put, it is answered. So far from adding to our
anxiety for the future, by offering the petition we dis
miss it ; and we do so in the only way which is pos
sible, by referring it trustfully to our Father in Heaven.
Our Lord never ignores the simple fact that these
earthly needs are realities, and however much it may
be surmised by ardent minds that if it were not for
human stupidity the pressure of bodily needs would
cease, He recognises that practically this is not the
case ; the majority of human lives always have been,
and are, and will be liable to injury, curtailment, and
distress, not from the fact of being largely absorbed
in meeting bodily needs, but by harassing anxiety as
to the future possibility of meeting them successfully.
A considerable portion of the sixth chapter of the
Great Sermon is given to the teaching on this subject,
the main lesson being, that as we are God's children
anxiety as to these matters is not to find place in our
lives. The truth which is constantly reiterated, or
clearly assumed where not expressed, is that there is
no hope of overcoming this danger of anxiety except
by trust in God, but that that is a perfectly sufficient
safeguard. Now in offering up the petition (b) we put
this principle into practice. The fulfilment of the
petition, that on any one day we may have the assur-

THE LORD'S PRAYER 255
ance as to the next day's supply of necessaries, obvi
ously will result in the first of the two days being free
of anxiety on this particular score. So far, then, from
the prayer being in opposition to the command of
ver. 34, it is in complete harmony with it, recognising
the paramount necessity of our lives being spared the
evil effects of haunting anxiety by casting the burden
upon the Lord. The command can only be fulfilled
by trust in God, and trust in God leads naturally to its
expression in the form of prayer.
If, then, (b) is a prayer against anxiety about food, (a)
is at first sight a prayer against excess : " Give us each
day enough to live on and no more." But this form
of words recognises the danger to our lives of two
things, not only of excess but also of deficiency.
" Enough to live on " implies " no more than enough,"
but also " no less." And we can clearly see in what
sense such a petition would be used. Superabundance
is, of course, a constant temptation to over-indulgence,
while deficiency is a double evil — it threatens the con
tinuance of the physical life, and it engenders anxiety,
which is a grave peril to our spiritual life. Hence (a)
in reality includes (b), unless we choose to conceive
of the evils of deficiency solely as a menace to our
physical life.
The objection to this interpretation is patent to any
one who has caught the spirit of the Beatitudes, and,
indeed, that of our Lord's teaching as a whole. One
great characteristic of that teaching is, no doubt, the
sane recognition of earthly needs (vi. 32), but on the
subject of those needs men are warned and encouraged
to view them according as they affect their spiritual
relation to God, and we see in the Beatitudes how the
spiritual issues dominate the physical. It could hardly
be that Christ would begin the Sermon with " Blessed
are the poor," and then go on to enjoin that the

256 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
very central petition in His model prayer should be
merely against the most direct result of poverty, viz.,
insufficiency of food. Or, to put the matter in a
slightly different light, granted that there is no ob
jection whatever to our praying simply for an adequate
supply of the necessaries of life, it would be against
the principles on which Christ's teaching proceeds if
He merely reaffirmed the naturalness of such a prayer.
That is to say, His rule evidently was to economise
time by keeping silence in regard to such human
aspirations as He saw to be right and legitimate, but
to give all possible attention to the task of raising
men's minds on some points to a new level, or of
diverting them from error to truth. What He did not
do was to reaffirm what everybody knew and practised,
and if this petition in the Lord's Prayer is nothing but
a request for physical necessaries, it is a re-affirmation
of the purely naturalistic instinct of self-preservation.
But what would have been the use of this ? Since the
earliest days of mankind's existence, or, anyhow, since
the beginning of the history of religion, man must have
prayed for the supply of his bodily needs, and it is not
likely that our Lord would have framed a petition for
our use which was to be nothing more than the echo
of the countless prayers which even savage man lifts
to the Unknown God as soon as he can pray at all.
But if we refuse to conceive of want of food merely
as a menace to our physical life ; if, that is, we take it
as imperilling our relation to God because it often en
genders anxiety, then the purport of this particular
clause is immensely enriched. And, further, (a) in
cludes (b), that is to say, each of the two interpretations
represent the petition as directed primarily against
anxiety of mind in respect of the necessaries of life.
(a) says, " Save us from the dangers of a too abundant
supply of food, and from those which belong to a

THE LORD'S PRAYER 257
defective supply," i.e. luxury and anxiety, (b) says,
" Save us from anxiety of mind by allowing us to feel
each day that there is food for the morrow." The first
seems the more comprehensive prayer, but it should
be remarked that the second includes the idea of
working for our daily bread with regularity. Christ
could not have taught that we were to ask for pro
vision for the morrow though we were to be idle
to-day, since the most elementary knowledge of
human nature convinces us that under these cir
cumstances man certainly degenerates. And if this
cannot be the meaning of the prayer, it must embrace
the request for regularity of employment, in the sense
that we require to feel at the close of each period that
the work done has earned us immunity from starva
tion ; in other words, that the conditions under which
we live have allowed us to purchase tranquillity of
mind by steady regular work. If this be part of the
meaning of this weighty petition, how grievous is the
sin of every society which forces whole swarms of its
members to live and die idle though willing to work !
We may well believe that our Lord was concerned
about this deep and essential need of mankind — regu
larity of employment — chiefly as a safeguard against
anxiety of mind.
Thus both (a) and (b) represent complex ideas, and
it has been plausibly suggested that the very peculiar
Greek word was coined as an approximate equivalent
of an Aramaic expression which covered more ideas
than one. At this point, however, we pass into the
region of conjecture, and there is no likelihood of
further research bringing us certainty as to the exact
meaning of the original clause. But we may rest
assured and thankful that the two interpretations of
the Greek which have received the largest measure of
support deal alike with a deep but not obvious neces-
rr R

258 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
sity of human nature, the need of a safeguard of our
tranquillity of mind ; and further, that they equally
suggest thoughts so rich and universal as to stir our
gratitude afresh to Him who first framed the Christian's
model prayer. " Lead us not into Temptation."
It is significantly remarked by Zahn that when we
petition God not to lead us into temptation, we
imply that without such a petition He may be ex
pected to do this very thing. Further, that of two
possible reasons for His so doing one is impossible.
Temptation may be allowed, or even actually sent,
for the purpose of strengthening a human being with
a free will, or for the purpose of ruining him. The
latter we conceive of as the diabolical motive of the
spiritual enemy of mankind, and it must never be
ascribed to God. But if temptation, then, is only
permitted by God for our good, why do we pray
against it ? Surely this is an extreme instance of the
illogicality of prayer. Generally we pray for good
things, which yet we may believe that a loving and
Almighty Father would grant unasked, but here we
actually deprecate a certain dealing with us on God's
part which, ex hypothesi, must be for our good. And,
moreover, all experience goes to show that it is really
for our good. All strong men know perfectly well
that in their lives the formative ingredient, the
strengthening experience, has been the successful
withstanding of temptation ; and in retrospect they
can hardly conceive of the loss to themselves that
it would have been if they had been without tempta
tion ; if, that is, the daily-offered prayer had been
literally granted and they had never been led into
temptation. What, then, can be the reason of the
insertion into the Lord's Prayer of this petition ?

THE LORD'S PRAYER 259
Nothing is gained by denying the fact of this diffi
culty, or by insisting, as many writers have insisted,
that we benefit ourselves morally by offering this
petition ; in other words, that we guard ourselves
against the spirit of vain self-confidence by owning
to God our sense of weakness, and that deliberately
to omit this request would be to court temptation in
the very temper which makes it certain that we shall
fall. This may be, and indeed is, perfectly true ; but
we cannot conceive that Christ inserted the clause
into His model prayer merely for our moral good
and without reference to some deep underlying verity,
since as soon as we begin, even faintly, to suspect this,
the whole of the moral benefit disappears. We may
continue to repeat the words, but unless we mean
that we wish them to be granted and that our utter
ing them will really make a difference in God's deal
ings with us, there is nothing in the words any longer
which can check our self-confidence or counteract
our foolish pride. It would seem to be a sheer ab
surdity to fall on our knees and say, " We know that
temptations are good for us if we are not too self-
confident ; so merely as an antidote to self-confidence,
we pray that they may not come at all."
The main consideration urged on p. 239 applies here
also. We should fix our minds on the essential
conditions of the wholesomest relationship between
father and child that we know of, and we shall see
that all that is most vital in that relationship tran
scends logic, but is thoroughly justified by our highest
experience, and the most unanswerable logical ob
jections to the relationship are found to be futile.
For instance, the better a father is, the more he will
know of his child's mind, of his deepest needs and
best aspirations, and the more he will anticipate them
and try to fulfil them ; in short, the less need there

260 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
is for the child to make him any request. But, in
fact, the best fathers are those who are oftenest
petitioned by their children, and the better a child
is, the more honest and frank and guileless he is,
the more he will utter his every want to his parents.
There is no reason in all this, or rather the reason
in it can only be seen when it has been transcended ;
but if the whole matter had proceeded on reason
alone, the life of the human relation would soon have
withered away. Life after all is not the same as
logic ; it constantly hastens on in advance and anti
cipates, careless whether logic will in time justify
laboriously and patiently that which it has itself done
with triumphant confidence and success, but which,
if it had waited for logic, it would never have achieved
at all.
In considering the exact bearing of the words, we
can choose between two interpretations, the first
being quite general and not a reasoned petition, but
a cry, as it were, from the heart. The believer has
just prayed for the needs of the present, then that
his own past may not hang about him and separate
him from God ; now he looks forward to the future,
and his first thought is the danger that temptations
may come too strong for him to resist. So he is
told to pray that this may not be so, but that God
would keep him away from sinning. This is, doubt
less, the kind of sense that has been given to the
words by unreflective petitioners at all times, and
many a soul has felt that no more is required for
the expressing of its deepest self-distrust and acknow
ledgment of God's power and love. But there must
be more in the words than this. The striking phrase,
" bring us not into temptation," the use of the singular
noun when we should expect the plural, the double
meaning, temptation and trial, the difficult transition

THE LORD'S PRAYER 261
to the next clause with its ambiguous "but," the
expression "deliver us from" (i.e. "away from," not
"out of," as often elsewhere), and the question
whether the second clause is a pendent to the first or
a separate request — all these points are put on one
side as unimportant by those who are contented with
the above. So scholars have gone further into the
elucidation of the terms and into the theological
problems raised by the petition being taught us at
all. And when this course — the second of the two
above alluded to — is adopted, a crop of formidable
difficulties springs up. They probably cannot be
adequately answered ; but it seems safe to go so far
as to say that the idea of God bringing us into temp
tation belongs to the experience of sharp trials of
our faith and moral principle, which we feel should
have been spared if we had always relied on God ;
the allusion being to extra and avoidable trials
into which God leads or brings us, to rouse us from
the torpor of false security, because there is no better
way of waking men from the sleep of death. If this
is so, the prayer is in reality that we may be saved
from heedless security, and we are reminded of the
parable of the ten virgins and of many grave and
emphatic sayings of Christ (e.g. Mark ii. 16), other
wise we should be praying against the one effectual
medicine of our own disease. A rough paraphrase
would therefore be, " May it not become necessary
that we be roused from spiritual sloth by being
brought into special temptation and so falling into
sin, but rather so guide our lives that we be kept
from evil." The prayer thus touches the great
mystery of evil being evil and yet capable of being
made the beginning of good, and, as far as we can
see, its essential condition ; and it reminds us that
our deepest instincts prompt us to pray against being

262 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
exposed to evil, while yet we can hardly imagine our
selves making progress without it, and nowhere is
the paradox more distinctly stated. We end the
prayer which breathes the very spirit of sonship and
trust, by recognising God's supreme power over the
kingdom of evil as far as it concerns human life. He
can so dispose it as to spare us its contact or to
bring it about ; and even while professing our trust
in Him we are instructed by the Saviour to deprecate
a certain use, so to speak, which He might make of
evil, viz. the employment of it as a means of avert
ing the destruction of the soul. It is most important,
therefore, to see that so far from failing to recognise
the mystery of human life, Jesus Christ has here set
it before us in its plainest outlines and sharpest con
tradictions so boldly and thoroughly as to suggest
that, while withholding from us the explanation, He
kept it before His own mind.
If this interpretation of the clause be on the right
lines, we distinguish the stagnation of our spiritual
being from actual falling into sin. The first is only
to be cured by our being exposed to the second ; but
the mere possibility of the lapse is so terrible that,
in spite of the curative effect ascribed to it, we pray
against its being employed. We can hardly help
inferring from this that Christ took very decidedly a
view of sin which often meets with much disapproval
at the present day. His teaching is that nothing is so
terrible as the falling into sin, unless it be the spiritual
stagnation which originally made the liability to
collapse a necessity. By spiritual stagnation is meant
the sort of hard-heartedness and self-satisfaction for
which a sudden collapse is a possible cure. But
whether we fix our attention on the awfulness of the
original disease, or of the cure, it seems clear that
our Lord utterly discountenances the idea that we

THE LORD'S PRAYER 263
can afford to be optimistic about the evil of sin, or
that we can regard it as a merely negative thing, or
as merely a stage in upward growth. We have
heard a preacher quoted as saying that he owed his
progress in spiritual growth to nothing so much as
to his sins. This is one attitude. But a member of
his audience came away saying, " He makes me so
contented with myself, and strips away the need for
self-abasement, in short, for penitence, so skilfully that
I feel sure he is wrong." This is another frame of
mind in respect of sin, and nothing is gained by
confusing the two. Apart from other indications
given throughout His ministry, we may infer from
this passage that of the two views our Lord gives
prominence to the more severe, from which we of
this present age are inclined to shrink.

XIX
FASTING
vi. 1 6-1 8
An interesting question to a modern reader of the
Sermon on the Mount is whether in these verses
Christ enjoins fasting as a duty. It is not uncommon
to find in commentaries, especially in those written
by German Protestants, statements to the effect that
He discountenanced fasting in His own circle of
followers, and abstained from the practice Himself ;
and His whole attitude towards externalism is pointed
to as affording strong evidence in favour of these
statements. This is not the place for an exhaustive
discussion of Christ's teaching on fasting, but we have
to determine, if possible, the precise bearing of this
particular passage on the matter, and it may at once
be said that the answer is not so simple as might be
supposed. It may be urged on one side that our
Lord is engaged simply in taking instances from
Jewish life of virtuous practices and warning His
followers against the hypocritical fashion of display ;
and that the question as to these practices being
indispensable to the religious life was not in His
mind. There is a wrong way of performing the
common duties of almsgiving, prayer, and fasting
against which they had to be emphatically warned,
and the whole stress of the passage is on this subject
of the fatal disease of ostentation, just as it was in the
264

FASTING 265
matter of almsgiving and prayer. Again, that there
was at that time a party of strict religionists who
added enormously to the Mosaic requirements of
fasting, and it is a proof that Christ was not con
cerned here with the nature of the obligation but
merely with the manner of its performance, that He
utters no word of disapproval against an ordinance
which He allowed His disciples to violate in practice
(Mark ii. 18 f.). It is probable that in His own
Person He carried out the Mosaic law, but hardly
conceivable that He fasted twice in the week. If
therefore we had here a record of His teaching on
the extent to which fasting is a duty binding on the
members of God's Kingdom, we should find that our
Lord, by precept as well as example, loosed the
burden from the necks of His disciples, as He must
have done at other times in private. If, then, we are
to take these verses as dealing with another aspect
of the subject altogether, why not dismiss from our
minds all reference to the duty of fasting, and consider
only the dangers of hypocrisy ?
Now we may grant that the duty of observing the
ordinance is not the primary subject of these verses.
Undoubtedly our Lord chooses this religious ordin
ance merely as one out of three, the binding char
acter of which no one of His contemporaries would
have questioned, and which were universally recog
nised. But as soon as we admit the fact, we have to
consider if it does not suggest an inference. To point
His moral Christ chooses three practices, two of
which no one denies to be quite indispensable to the
religious life. If, then, the third is, so to speak,
unconsciously added while the Speaker's mind was
occupied with another matter, is it not a proof that
He rated it as no less obligatory ? His view of the
duty is better indicated in this way than if He had

266 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
formally undertaken its defence. It is as if He had
said, " I want to warn you against ostentation, and I
will therefore take three duties which you cannot
help performing, and show you how easy it is to
perform them in an ostentatious way." Is it to be
supposed that if Christ had disapproved or thought
little of the practice, He would simply have mentioned
it in this way as one of a very peculiarly important
series, implying that its claims were as incontestable
as those of prayer and the giving of alms ?
To this it may be replied that His estimate of the
comparative importance of the three duties must be
indicated by the fact of His having elsewhere enjoined,
though indirectly, the performance of the first two,
while He says nothing and apparently does nothing
to commend the third to men's notice, but rather the
contrary. And just as it was His practice to leave
institutions and social customs which were against
the spirit of His Kingdom to the dissolving influence
of time and the training of the Holy Spirit, so He left
this practice to be dealt with in the same way, merely
showing on another occasion how it was naturally
connected with a time of sorrow, and therefore to be
safely ignored in a time of rejoicing. In short, His
handling of the theme here is so light that it allows
us to infer His intention of leaving the question of the
binding nature of the duty to the Church when it was
founded ; perhaps gently loosening its bonds by
silence and laxity in His own practice.
This view implies that though fasting is here ranged
along with the other two primary religious duties,
Christ in so doing was only accommodating Himself
to the practices of the time ; and that though they may
have been transitory, they served perfectly to illustrate
the point He was then making against hypocrisy ;
and the illustration remains valid for us, though the

FASTING 267
particular fashion of exhibiting sorrow for sin and
bereavement by fasting is no more observed. And it
does not seem possible to disprove this contention,
though there will always be many minds to which the
connexion with prayer and almsgiving will seem to
outweigh all considerations tending to minimise the
importance of fasting. Others would say that if this
passage stood alone it would not be certain what
Christ meant to enjoin as to this duty. The force of
the contention as to the juxtaposition is balanced by
the fact that whereas our Lord enforced the other
two duties by precept and example, He was certainly
lenient in respect of the third.
Again, some would urge that the words " and thy
Father which seeth in secret, shall recompense thee,"
necessarily imply that Christ enjoined upon His
followers this duty, and to it attaches a promise. There
is force in this, no doubt, but less than if the passage
were single. Its place in a series makes it possible to
take the words as a kind of refrain, emphasising not
the fact that this is a practice certain to bring a
reward with it, but that, as in the other two cases,
there need be no fear of God overlooking this or any
act of service merely because men do not take notice
of it. It is conceivable that our Lord may have had
in His mind the transitory character of the practice
even while commending it to this extent ; but no
cautious student of His teaching would assert this
positively. But, as already said, any discussion of the general
subject of fasting which concerned this passage alone
would ignore the very important passage in Mark ii.
The divergence of view which exists among English
churchmen depends on different conceptions as to
Church authority, which again rest on the general
view entertained of the work of the Holy Spirit and

268 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
the development of the primary doctrines of Revela
tion. It should be remarked, moreover, that the
reason for fasting which nowadays plays an important
part, viz., the curbing of the appetites, was before the
time of Christ either absent or quite secondary to the
idea of conjoining fasting with sorrow for sin. These
and various other considerations would have to be
taken into account in any adequate treatment of the
general subject.
We pass on now to the question of publicity in
such a matter as fasting. How is it that not only is
the picture drawn of the hypocrites most repulsive,
but the idea of forcing such a practice on the atten
tion of our neighbours is perhaps more odious than
publicity in prayer and almsgiving ? Some light on
the meaning of fasting will be gained if this question
can be fairly answered. Supposing, for instance, that
the modern conception is allowed to prevail, as it
certainly does in many quarters, viz., that for our
general welfare we require to take special precautions
against the power of bodily appetites, to fight against
the "wildness of the flesh," as Hooker calls it, other
wise the equilibrium of our complex being is upset,
then it is not easy to say why we instinctively dislike
publicity. If it is simply a question of our own moral
and spiritual welfare, there is no reason why we
should shrink from observation in the performance
of this duty any more than when we take a walk for
the sake of our bodily health, or engage in some
professional work simply because it is good for us.
Nor, again, is the question easy to answer if we
remain contented with another popular explanation
of the duty, viz., that we fast simply in obedience to
the Church's rule. The same might be said of going
to church or keeping Sunday free of secular employ
ments — those who. observe these duties have no sort

FASTING 269
of objection to being seen in carrying them out. But
with regard to the three duties mentioned in chap, vi.,
we find a general disposition to shrink from the gaze
of men in the performance of them — a disposition too
instinctive to be explained by simple unreasoning
obedience to Christ's command — and even if this
were otherwise, it would be well for us to inquire on
what principle that command rests. We observe,
meantime, that it is very strongly worded : " But
thou, when thou fastest, anoint thy head and wash
thy face, that thou be not seen of men to fast ; "
that is to say, our Lord orders not simple privacy,
as in verse 6, or unconscious spontaneity, as in
verse 3, but something apparently verging on decep
tion of others or dissimulation. The question there
fore arises : What is there peculiar about the duty
of fasting, as compared with almsgiving and prayer,
which makes it incumbent upon us to take quite
special precautions that it should not be made an
occasion for display ? For in accordance with a
principle of interpretation generally recognised as
valid (see on vii. 4) we take the vivid pictorial expres
sions not literally, but as indicating that the claims of
this particular injunction are specially urgent.
The answer seems to be that while prayer and
almsgiving are in reality acts of service to God, and
there is an instinct within us which forbids us from
exposing our relation to God more than is necessary
to the gaze of our fellow-men, there is this peculiarity
about fasting, that it is in its fundamental meaning
a natural expression of sorrow for sin. Such at least
was the Scriptural view of it.1 When it is coupled
with prayer it is that outward expression of our
spiritual communion with God which sorrow for sin
1 Zahn collects the following passages : Matt. ix. 14 f. ; Mark ii. 18-20 ;
Joel ii. 12 ; Zach. vii. 5 ; 1 Sam. ii. 5, xx. 34; 2 Sam. i. 12 ; Dan. x. 2 f.

270 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
naturally demands. If our lives were conducted
according to the spirit of the Biblical writers, it would
be just as easy for us to fast at times set apart by the
Church for penitence as it would be to abstain from
conviviality and merry-making in times of bereave
ment. And if this statement is for some readers
unpalatably strong, let it suffice that this idea of
fasting was undoubtedly assumed by our Lord, and
that in treating the subject He leaves it uncorrected.
Under this aspect, then, it is not difficult to see why
publicity in the performance of this particular duty is
specially odious. It is bad enough if according to the
behaviour condemned in v. 5 we come before our
fellow-men and say, " See how careful I am about
my spiritual intercourse with our Heavenly Father,"
or, as in v. 2, "Take notice of my kindly actions
towards the poor." But the contradiction between
what we do and what we pretend to be doing becomes
more glaring, more contemptibly selfish and stupid
when we virtually say, " Come and notice how deep and
genuine is my sorrow for my own sin and for the sins
of others," with the intention of securing credit for
ourselves. To try to make capital out of our offences
against our God is the very climax of religious mad
ness. It is the employment of our relation to the
Most High for the miserably delusive end of gaining
some senseless applause from others, and turning
what is ex hypothesi self-abasement into a means of
self-exaltation. The wickedness of such behaviour,
quite immeasurable though it be, is almost concealed
by its stupidity ; and certainly one of the most
humiliating facts about mankind is that it does not
fail of securing its reward. This is partly explained
by the complexity of the motives which induce people
to be ascetic, and the difficulty of distinguishing be
tween them ; and by the simple fact that whatever be

FASTING 271
the motive, asceticism does indicate a certain mastery
of mind over appetite which it is beyond the power
of ordinary men to acquire.
We may now sum up some observations suggested
by a study of the three illustrations of hypocrisy.
They are given by our Lord without any invective or
waste of emphasis, but the description is all the more
scathing owing to the moderation with which it is
drawn, and its repulsiveness is perhaps greatest in the
last of the three pictures, that of the man who makes
a show of his sorrow for sin, that he may win for
himself applause from the most foolish of his con
temporaries. A melancholy spectacle, indeed ! But
while it is true that this terrible exposure has
made it practically impossible that men should ever
again degrade themselves in exactly this fashion, it is
well to reflect how deep-seated must be the desire
for applause which has been strong enough in the
past to induce man to debase himself, most miserably,
even in the very act of self-exaltation, and under
different but not dissimilar forms shows itself in no
less grotesque follies to-day. And, because it is deep-
seated, Christ dealt with it in a spirit of the utmost
severity ; the severity which is born of a "vast pity"
and a love far too great to allow Him to pass by this
secret source of human failure. It is a disease, not of
open defiance of God, or of yielding to the infirmities
of bodily appetite, but of corrupt allegiance ; and the
plain inference is that far worse than indifference, or
sloth, or lust, there is this startling tendency in men
and women, reckoned as zealous servants of the Most
High, to poison their highest instincts with selfish
ness, and to deprave their best activities with the crav
ings of pride. Worse than self-indulgence, worse even
than cold-heartedness and cruelty, is the wrong sort
of religious or philanthropic zeal,

272 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
It is certain that mankind have not yet learned this
lesson ; that is to say, in our ordinary estimate of
virtuous conduct we unquestioningly rate philan
thropic activity very high. It is all that we usually
demand of each other ; or, again, in education, not
only is little or nothing said about the paramount
necessity of a pure motive, but if a boy or girl shows
industry and a willingness to take trouble about
worthy objects, we seem to assume that the problem
of character-training is solved. And yet it is just in
this sort of conduct that the hypocritical spirit would
exert itself if it be there. True though it be that we
have no right to judge inner motives, and still less to
speak of them, there should at least be something of
reserve and caution in our panegyrics of fashionable
virtues. The more fashionable they are the more the
modern Pharisee is led to practise them, even at the
cost of much trouble and self-denial, and the know
ledge that the fairest show of them may be nothing
more than the outward exhibition of the actor's
instinct for applause should temper our praise of
each other, our verdicts given in public, our obituary
encomiums, with something of the caution born of a
godly fear. Rash and superficial judgments, marked by
the leniency which modern opinion demands, act as a
stimulus to the characters that crave applause, and
all the time there is being enacted the mighty drama
of countless human souls. And, again, in our ordinary
estimate of sin how astonishingly superficial and un-
Christlike is the tone ! In some circles of society the
only deadly offence a man can commit is one which
concerns his neighbour's pocket, namely, cheating at
cards. But among people of a very different stamp
it is strange to find that moral zeal means little more
than a vigorous insistence on the horrible wrong
fulness and deadly danger of certain definite vices,

FASTING 273
such as impurity or untruthfulness, as if mankind
with their complex infirmities and strange power of
caricaturing goodness had nothing else to fear. If
our crude and thoughtless condemnation of such
things were habitually tempered with knowledge of
Christ's view of sinners the world would be a very
different place. We ought not to be content to forget
that, according to His teaching, the one deadly sin is
that from which the criminal and the vicious are
generally free, the being good for the sake of men's
approval. But this very expression, "men's approval," sug
gests that we ought to paraphrase the precept still
further. " Men's approval," as here alluded to, means
exactly that favourable shallow commendation which
a society gives to its members merely because they
follow its fashion ; and to live by fashion is the one
course open to the man who refuses to follow prin
ciple ; and of the two courses the former makes much
less demand than the latter upon the mind and
thought. Therefore we cannot be wrong in para
phrasing the precept : " When ye fast do not fast as
those who do it needlessly, stupidly." By "heed
lessly" is meant following the opinion of the majority,
without giving heed to the principles of conduct
which are deeply rooted and can stand investigation.
When this is the case a man either drifts along with
out a motive at all, with no object in view — which
must be very rare — or he seeks the commendation of
the majority. In either case he is acting blindly,
stupidly. Hence it is to be inferred, as in the other
two instances in this chapter, that the precept is not
a precept which enjoins fasting, but one which warns
us against acting in an important and typical question
of conduct without knowing what we are doing. It
follows that we can disobey the precept by heedlessly S

274 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
refusing to fast just as well as by heedlessly fasting ;
indeed, such disobedience as that must be easier than
the other, as it means, ex hypothesi, acting according
to inclination and appetite, and it is easier to curry
favour with public opinion by indulgence than by
asceticism ; and there is nothing to show that the
former involves any more thought than the latter.
Our Lord has now shown that the practice of
certain public recognised virtues may be the symptom
of a character rotten to the core. It may be
ostensibly the outcome of piety, but in reality the
expression of selfishness. Down at the root of the
mischief there is the simple fact that men forget the
existence of their Heavenly Father. This forgetful
ness manifests itself in another way against which
Christ proceeds to warn us.

XX
"LAY NOT UP FOR YOURSELVES"
vi. 19
Before investigating the teaching contained in the
remainder of this chapter the reader would do well
to remind himself how easy it is for people who
profess a special reverence for the Sermon on the
Mount to overlook certain wrong tempers and prac
tices which are there denounced ; and, again, certain
virtuous dispositions, which are enjoined upon us as
being all-important for membership in the kingdom.
In the previous case, the deadly sin was found to be
a distortion of motive which utterly ruins service to
God and man. And meantime we see that the public
opinion of earnest and religious people is exercised
about various breaches of the moral law, against
which Christ says little or nothing. So here we shall
probably find that the warnings are directed against a
tone of mind which is frequently thought to be not
only innocent, but the indication of seriousness of
purpose, and, indeed, almost essential to a good life,
viz., anxiety about the future. The Speaker, in short,
is dealing with the idea of life and duty formed and
passed on to others by good people; not by the triflers,
or the godless, or the rebellious of the world, but by
sober, earnest-minded, patriotic folk ; and herein we
remember that our Lord gave enormously more
attention to the opinions and feelings of such people

276 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
than to those of the heedless and openly self-indul
gent, of whom, indeed, He took comparatively little
notice. We observe, then, that at first sight this well-known
paragraph — perhaps the best known of any — appears
to inculcate something like carelessness in practical
business matters ; and especially is this impression
conveyed by the Authorised Version ; and then we
remember that at the present day a large number of
earnest-minded, patriotic persons look upon careless
ness of this sort as a besetting infirmity of the English
character, which mars our efficiency in commercial
competition. Our ears are dinned with exhortations
to look ahead and make provision for future dangers
which menace our earthly prosperity. This striking
feature of modern life is sufficient to give a special
interest to the consideration of the following para
graph. The problem before us is first to make clear wherein
lies the mischief of laying up treasure on earth ; then,
the meaning of the opposite, " laying up treasure in
heaven " ; lastly, to note the connexion of the para
graph with the context.
It seems that two reasons for the prohibition are
given : (1) It is of no use storing up treasure, because
the forces of dissolution and waste are too strong for
us. This is obviously a maxim of worldly prudence,
and, as such, profoundly unsatisfactory. To begin
with, it would mean that Christ here abandoned the
principle which He elsewhere carefully observes in
His teaching — the principle of revealing to man the
comparative importance of efforts with a spiritual, and
those with a temporal aim, not on the assumption that
the latter fail of their object, but that they succeed.
This is the point, for instance, in the parable of the
Rich Fool. But on how much lower a tone would

LAY NOT UP FOR YOURSELVES 277
this teaching here be pitched if its meaning were " Do
not store up treasure on earth, because you will find
that your storing fails of its object ; what you garner,
time will scatter, and I recommend some expenditure
of effort in a region where there is no such dissolution
and loss." This would be an appeal to the business
instincts of men on a business matter somewhat in
the tone of the pagan poets, Horace and Juvenal.
But it is not for maxims of this sort that we turn to
the great Sermon. Moreover, the assertion would be
traversed by business men and prudent worldlings
of all sorts, and it is nowhere hinted in the New
Testament that business men are bad judges of busi
ness. They would say with perfect truth that " laying
up in store," if the expression be modernised so as
to include all kinds of prudence in money matters —
investments, insurance, and so forth — succeeds in its
object very well. Occasionally, no doubt, forethought
is deceived, but not often. And it is to be deplored
that many careless readers of these words suppose
that they do really enjoin thriftlessness and impru
dence in matters of property, though it is found that
such qualities produce a great deal of unhappiness.
The expression, " for yourselves," guides us to the
right interpretation.1 A correct paraphrase would be,
" Strive not to become owners of property." And
then our Lord goes on to say, not simply that pro
perty is perishable, but that, though perishable, it is
found, to absorb ^the^ affections. In short, it is a
question not at all of the success or failure of the
efforts, but of their effect on character ; and when we
recognise this we feel ourselves once more in the
native atmosphere, so to speak, of Christ's teaching.
We are forbidden to give time and trouble to the
acquisition of property for its own sake, that is, merely
1 Zahn, in loc.

278 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
because ownership is pleasant ; and the reason given
is that there is a deceptiveness about ownership to
which men are constantly falling victims, viz., that it
seems to promise permanence and stability, whereas
it is the very type of the fleeting and the perishable ;
and this quality must be taken into account when we
consider the serious fact that our affections follow
our efforts. Our hearts become absorbed in what we
are doing. In other words, we grow to love that
which we fancy to be stable, but which in reality
speaks most eloquently of change and decay.
At this point, however, the worldling interposes,
" Why should I not give my mind to that which is
perishable perhaps in one aspect, but in reality per
manent enough for all practical purposes ? What
injury to character is involved here ? Some grand
characters have been manifested in the management
of property, and we feel that there is something unreal
about the precept as thus explained."
It may be remarked that among all Christ's sayings
this is the most Platonic. The great Greek teacher
insisted again and again on the absolute necessity for
a soul that was to be really healthy of contemplating
things permanent and truly existing, not the change
able and fleeting. And though it is not easy to formu
late the reasons for this idea, we do generally recognise
its truth, however much our practice contradicts it.
The feeling against the growth of luxury is partly due
to the fact that more and more labour tends to be
absorbed in the making of perishable articles : and
we should be uneasy about a near relation of our own
becoming engrossed in an undertaking for the pro
duction of such articles. In other words, we have
a dim idea that at best the contemplation of the
transient does no good ; that it probably gives some
thing of a shallow character to the man, a slightness,

LAY NOT UP FOR YOURSELVES 279
a conventionality, and a disposition to the kind of
versatility which accomplishes nothing of permanent
value for mankind. At any rate, it is well to note that
if the Sermon on the Mount is to be charged with
unreality, in different words similar indictments
have been preferred against the greatest teachers of
the human race from Socrates onwards, and yet
the best opinion has recognised the greatness of
these men.
It is clear anyhow that stress must be laid on the
words "for yourselves"; that is to say, the pro
hibition is against ownership divorced from any idea
of stewardship. To lay up in store for ourselves is to
accumulate possessions with no object in view but our
personal enjoyment : if successfully done this absorbs
time and energy, and finally affection : first, man's
strength is given to the quest, then his heart, and
throughout he has not set before himself any aim
of service whatever. Thus the prohibition does not
touch the making provision for children, though it
would forbid the straining after leaving them enough
to make them rich, unless there is some spiritual or
social object in so doing. Otherwise the motive can
only be self-gratification in a kind of deferred owner
ship. It may be that underlying the pagan dissatis
faction at the hollowness of the pleasures of wealth
were some of these facts as to the effect on character,
but it is interesting to observe that there was so little
conception of social service among the Greek and
Roman writers of classical times that they were un
able to trace their dissatisfaction to its source ; but
Christian moralists know quite well that the only
way of avoiding the curse of riches is to use them
as stewards, i.e. for distribution.
But we must now consider the alternative, the lay
ing up in heaven. First it is to be noticed that the

280 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
words " for yourselves " occur again, and apparently
present this difficulty, that if the banefulness of earthly
ownership lies in its selfishness, it is possible so to
enjoin the duty of storing in heaven as to appeal to
a motive quite as evil because purely selfish. The
answer, however, is plain. The storing up on earth
is (ex hypothesi) selfish in its aim, and ends in naked
ness and self-spoliation ; the storing up in heaven is
unselfish and Godward, and ends in self-enrichment,
because it has at no time aimed at enjoyment. Thus,
as always, the true development of self is in being
unselfish, and there is no antithesis between aiming at
the betterment of the individual who gives and of the
society which receives. The expression " treasure in
heaven" is easier to understand than to formulate.
It is well illustrated by the solemn but gracious words
spoken by our Lord after the parable of the Unjust
Steward (Luke xvi. 9). " Make to yourselves friends
by means of the mammon of unrighteousness, that
when it shall fail they may receive you into the eternal
tabernacles." The use of wealth, in other words,
should have an eternal aim ; there should ever be in
it something that cannot be estimated or even dis
cerned so long as this life in time shall last. And
the principle holds good of all talents. There is a
curse attached to the selfish use of them which sooner
or later makes itself felt, and of none is this more true
than of bodily health. "The healthy know not of
their health, but only the sick." The setting of our
affections on this possession gradually deprives us of
it. The same is true of fame and a good reputation.
The complete unworldliness of Christ's appeal may
be tested by comparison with our ordinary injunctions
to each other on the subject of storing up. To any
young man going into commercial life the ordinary
exhortation runs as follows : " Be interested in your

LAY NOT UP FOR YOURSELVES 281
work and you will get on ; " in other words, " Let
your affections become absorbed in what you are
doing and you will not fail to become rich." Our Lord
says, " If you strive to become rich, your affections
will be absorbed, which is fatal." There is, however,
a way of dealing with possessions which, even if they
increase, will avoid the peril ; it is, broadly speak
ing, to treat them as opportunities of service to God
through distribution on earth ; and the wonder will
be the self-enrichment which some day will be found
to have resulted.

XXI
THE LAMP OF THE BODY IS
THE EYE
vi. 22-24
The connexion clearly is that the effect on character
which we found resulted from the wrong treatment
of ownership is compared to the mischief resulting
to the physical being from the darkening of the organ
of light, the eye.1 To what the figure points is clear
from the peculiar phraseology, "Thy whole body
shall be full of light," this being one of those pas
sages where the unnaturalness of the figurative
language is due to the vividness with which the
underlying truth is brought out. Another strange
expression as applied to the bodily eye is "single,"
1 The parallel passage in St. Luke xi. 34 gives a totally different con
nexion, and offers a tempting opportunity for theorising on the Synoptic
problem. Certainly the Mount passage is the more coherent ; but there
are no data for determining the question whether our Lord introduced the
image into His teaching more than once. Critics often assume that this
could not have been done, but without evidence. They are then forced
to account for the Lukan passage in one way or another. Those however
who wish to learn the most they can from the teaching of Christ are under
no necessity of waiting an indefinite time till this question of priority is
settled. The more sensible plan is to try to understand the context
of both passages as they stand, pending further investigation ; for even if
we are in doubt as to the precise connexion in which our Lord used the
image, it is clear that the compilers of the Gospels saw a connexion in each
case with the context now before us. And till we know far more than we
yet know as to these parallel passages, why not discern as clearly as we
can the compiler's idea of the relation of the different thoughts ?
282

THE LAMP OF THE BODY 283
where we should expect some word like "healthy,"
the opposite of irovijpos, translated evil, but meaning
rather in its concrete sense " corrupt." Another
question that presents itself arises out of the end
of v. 23. " If therefore the light that is in thee be
darkness, how great is the darkness ! " What is " the
light that is in thee " ? for the image of the bodily
eye gives very little help here ; and " how great is
the darkness ! " seems to point to a condition of
spiritual darkness worse than some other. Than
what ? And finally, is there a natural connexion
with the next passage, "No man can serve two
masters ? "
The answers to these questions may be given briefly.
Christ is depicting the result of the darkening of
something within us which in the spiritual or moral
world answers to the eye in the physical. This must be
the organ with which we apprehend God, or perhaps
the faculty whereby we determine moral claims and
distinguish duty from inclination : this is called con
science. Now if these supreme faculties in man get
to be vitiated, or somehow turned from their proper
use, there results a darkening of man's spiritual being
analogous to physical blindness, but far more grievous
and complete. It is represented by the straining of
the figure as the spoiling of an organ which not only
receives light as the eye does from the sun, but which
gives light, illuminating as from a centre the highest
portion of man's being. And if we ask how is this
part of us vitiated, the answer is indicated by the word
"single." Evidently this spiritual faculty within us
is spoilt by losing its singleness, and the result then
is that the whole inner life of the man is sunk in
spiritual darkness. He no longer has a principle
to guide him. And by losing its singleness we mean
that the faculty is no longer exercised in apprehend-

284 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
ing God, but in a degree varying in individual cases,
is absorbed in the contemplation of things mundane.
This must be the connexion of these sentences with
the warning against laying up treasure on earth. The
darkness supervening in man's spiritual life is the
result of the "heart" or affections being given to
things of no permanent worth in themselves. But,
further, this spiritual darkness is so complete that it
allows a man to attempt the impossible, viz., to serve
two masters, in other words, to live according to two
different ideals. This is the connexion with the
famous warning which follows.
It is fairly obvious that the picture drawn is meant
as a warning of what may easily happen to those who
are trying to regulate their lives according to some
leading principle. For those who simply drift, the
wholly insouciant, Christ utters no message. This
most impressive passage, therefore, must be added
to the long list of those which deal with the per
versions of good people, ordinarily so called. Not
aimlessness but wrongheadedness is the object of the
most powerful denunciations in the Gospel. And,
further, the warning may be regarded in two different
lights, according as it is, or is not, supplemented by
the idea of divine help or illumination being pro
mised to man's struggling efforts. Supposing we
think of the words, as most modern hearers un
doubtedly do, in isolation from any special promise
of spiritual grace, then, can anything more discourag
ing be imagined ? The words imply that it is easy for
men to be totally in error as to the main principle on
which their lives are being ordered, and to mistake
something evil or valueless for the summum bonum
itself. But could anything be more useless than to
tell a blind man that he is blind, if that is all there is
to be said ? The emphasis on the totality of the dark-

THE LAMP OF THE BODY 285
ness makes the utterance perfectly hopeless as regards
renovation of the organ of sight, unless the hearer has
some notion of a promised illumination which he him
self is of course quite unable to furnish. That is to
say, we are once more reminded that Christ's teaching
is conditioned by the day of Pentecost looming brightly
before the Apostles. If man is assured that he has
spiritual illumination to which he can turn, then it
may be profitable for him to be told that as things
are he may very likely be following a Will o' the Wisp,
and that according as he succeeds in what he thinks to
be his best endeavours, he is plunging more and more
deeply into an abysmal quagmire. Otherwise, the
words are merely a picture of irremediable error, or
misdirected zeal, and inevitable ruin. If any such
meaning as this is to be found in the Sermon on the
Mount, we have to explain in what sense we conceive
of it as part of the Gospel or news of salvation to
mankind. The Greek words are chosen with great skill, if, as
we believe, they are a translation of Aramaic. The
" single eye " means the spiritual organ turned towards
God so steadily that it receives light from Him, but
also diffuses it so that the human being not only
knows whither he is walking and how to walk in his
earthly pilgrimage, but becomes full of light : an ex
pression describing what the more favoured of God's
children have seen in some few of the men they have
known. The " evil eye " is, again, a phrase covering
much ground ; we might expect that the opposite to
the eye which is healthy would be simply one which
could not see ; but the adjective, while applicable to a
diseased condition of the organ, also hints at its wrong
use ; the faculty may be in full vigour, but what if it
be employed on the wrong things ?
It is to be observed that our Lord does not explain

286 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
which is cause and which is effect in this terrible
picture of a spiritually endowed being. Does the
bondage to perishable things produce the blindness,
or the blindness cause the bondage ? Scientifically
we feel a great curiosity to know ; but the teaching
by which we are to be guided is not directed towards
increasing our knowledge of causes, but towards en
lightening us as to the motives and tendencies of
ordinary conduct.1 It is here that the divergence
between the scientific and the Christian spirit ordi
narily lies. An absurd idea has been that science is
hostile to religion because of the truths which it
reveals. Possibly we have outgrown this notion, but
it remains true that scientific people and (say) clergy
men have great difficulty in understanding each other,
and the reason is that there is an apparent incompati
bility between two views of life, the one which rates
an increase in knowledge as a worthy object of effort
to be singly pursued ; the other which estimates this
as little compared with the establishment of a right
relation to God in moral and spiritual matters, the
intellectual development being held to be subsidiary.
It is probable that in time this antagonism of view
will be found to be quite as illusory as the other.
There is no doubt as to the paramount importance in
Christian teaching of a right relation to God, as tested
by motives of conduct and by the doing of duty to
others. But it may well be that the advancing of
knowledge is a part of the duty confided to man,
sacred and infinitely important because it affects our
relation to God, and is therefore not to be decried
by Christians. Nor, on the other hand, is it at all
necessary that those who give their lives to the ad
vancement of knowledge should blind themselves to
the fact that they are engaged in a work of service to
1 Except perhaps the Johannine reports.

THE LAMP OF THE BODY 287
God as well as to their fellow-men. There are enough
instances on record to prove that this kind of hallow
ing of service does not diminish in any way its potency
for good.
When our Lord says that we cannot serve two
masters, we are to infer that the attempt to do so is
in reality a slavery to the wrong one, fatally dangerous
because it is mixed with pretence.
Quite briefly the connexion of the warnings from
the beginning of the chapter to this point may be thus
summarised. The laying up of treasure in store is
forbidden, because it leads to a loving of what is
perishable ; that in its turn to a darkening of the inner
eye of man's highest faculty ; and this, again, induces
blindness in regard to the vital question of divided
service (John v. 44).

XXII
"BE NOT ANXIOUS"
vi. 25-34
In ver. 25 the expression " on this account," or as in
R.V. " therefore," points to a connexion between
anxiety, which is going to be dealt with, and the stor
ing up of treasure, which has just been forbidden. In
other words, the double-mindedness exhibited by ac
cumulation of riches is betrayed no less certainly by
a haunting anxiety as to the bare necessaries of life.
But most people would judge the latter to be more
excusable, in that it may easily be more unselfish : it
may be caused principally by concern for those who
are dependent on us. None the less it has its roots
in the same fundamental defect, viz. want of trust
in God.
Extreme familiarity with these words must not
blind us to their surpassing importance. We have to
consider our Lord's attitude towards the claims of
prudence in worldly matters. Is it forbidden ? In
other words, if there be no anxiety whatever about
the morrow and about life's necessities, will there
be any forethought ? Another important question is
the connexion of the argument, " Is not the life more
than the food ? " with the prohibition. And if anxiety
on these subjects is forbidden, what about anxiety in
spiritual matters, for instance, as to our qualifications
for " the kingdom " ? These and other points will be

BE NOT ANXIOUS 289
best dealt with in some remarks on the general teach
ing of the paragraph.
In regard to the necessaries of life man is exposed
to a twofold danger. If he is amply supplied with
them, and has the means of procuring for himself a
superfluity, then he is tempted to self-indulgence ;
life for him brings no idea of a burden to be borne,
and it is difficult for him to enter into the spirit of
Christianity of which suffering and self-sacrifice seem
to be essential conditions. If, on the other hand, he
is insufficiently equipped with these necessaries he
is tempted to harbour a gnawing anxiety as to means
of livelihood, and the problem of to-morrow weighs
down the spirit. These facts have made many mora
lists aspire to a golden mean, and the praises of it
are constantly repeated by poets of all ages. Now of
these two dangers it is a striking fact that the former
assumes a far greater prominence in human writings
than the latter. But in Christ's teaching the reverse
holds good. Whereas moralists, preachers, and poets
inveigh at large on the sinfulness of luxury and its
evil effects — giving mostly the best of their energies
to verbal denunciation rather than to an example of
simple living — our Lord dismisses the subject in a
few pithy sentences, which leave it doubtful wherein
the exact danger of wealth lies ; and then devotes the
grandest powers of His eloquence, the most searching
of His aphorisms, and the most attractive of His
illustrations to cautioning us against the opposite
temper of mind ; not against careless self-indulgence,
but rather against the carking care which is due to
an apparently imminent failure of supply. And we
have to determine, if we can, why there is the
paradoxical preference ; why the danger which seems
to us the less serious is depicted by Christ with
far more insistence and urgency than the contrary. T

290 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
Among other puzzling facts about the subject is this,
that not only do riches constitute a great danger
to the possessor, but a heedless open-handedness,
a liberality in giving without careful and scrupulous
consideration, results in a vast spread of unhappi-
ness such as it is quite out of the power of the
poor man to cause. The latter may be as narrow-
minded, as querulous, as depressed and worried as
possible, but can the mischief he causes be compared
for a moment with that of foolish and indiscriminate
charity, or with the deep and far-reaching mischief
caused by the spending of thousands of pounds on
vanities and luxury, so that the lives of multitudes are
devoted to the production of tinsel and ephemeral
toys, and instruments of worthless pleasures ? Ob
viously if our Lord chooses the dangers of poverty as
more serious than those of riches, it must be for some
grave reason, the discernment of which is important
for us in proportion to its difficulty. Of course, man's
conduct frequently contradicts his principles in regard
to riches ; but the serious truth is that it is in our
times of reflection and self-control that we form con
victions concerning the deadly dangers of riches, and
almost crave after poverty as a condition of the
higher life. Yet it is from anxiety which Christ
evidently desires to deliver us more than from self-
indulgence, and anxiety grows in the surroundings
of impecuniosity, not of affluence. So that we need
to review in the light of Christ's teaching not our
careless and most superficial opinions, but our solid
and serious convictions, the staple food of the
preachers and moralists of all ages.
The first hint as to Christ's point of view is given
by the word " therefore " in ver. 25. As already
explained, the retrospective and prospective force of
this word points to a connexion between vers. 19

BE NOT ANXIOUS 291
and 25. In other words, the evils resulting from
storing up treasure tells on the character in a peculiar
way ; and something similar must be the effect on the
character of anxiety as to the future in the matter of
life's necessaries. There can be little doubt that the
fundamental connexion lies in the tendency of each
to encourage mistrust of God, or quite as probably in
the outcome of that mistrust. It would be a gross
misinterpretation of the passage to infer that there is
any discouragement of ordinary prudence in money
matters. Forethought is not the cause or the result,
but is a preventive of anxiety. For instance, insur
ance, which is sometimes represented as a form of
gambling, is in reality designed to allay that very
excitement which the gambler seeks ; and the con
fusion arises from our not perceiving that what
Christ is warning us against is not a sort of conduct
but a temper of mind, and the form in which the
warning is often cast, as if a certain outward action
were being forbidden, is due to the necessity of vivid
popular speech. Neither prudence nor imprudence
in the management of earthly goods is in question.
To urge the one and discourage the other would be
to lower the Discourse to the level of man's common
sense, and our Lord never did this. There was no
time during His public ministry for the uttering of
platitudes. It is possible, however, that the practical man may
indict this teaching, on the ground that it is unsuited
to the needs of ordinary life. It is, however, nothing
of the kind. Supposing impecuniosity to be threaten
ing the peace of life, which is the more practical
course to adopt, to make provision in a state of
anxiety of mind, or in a state of tranquillity ? From
the purely business point of view we may suppose
that the forethought would be more likely to be

292 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
wisely exercised in the latter case than in the former.
But there is no doubt that both the objection and
the answer lie apart from the meaning and purpose
of the great Sermon, except in so far as the fair in
ference from the words is that we may reasonably
test many of our business occupations by thinking if
their tendency is to promote or to allay worry. It is
impossible to justify the indifferent tone adopted by
Christians in speaking of business worries, as if they
were simply a misfortune. Judging from these verses
we must pronounce them to be a deadly form of sin
fulness ; all the more so, indeed, if they are the
inevitable outcome of an occupation deliberately
chosen. Whatever conduct, therefore, would tend to pacify
our minds in the midst of life's uncertainties, would,
so far, meet with our Lord's approval. But His dis
approval of the unpacified mind is expressed in rather
difficult words (v. 25) : " Is not the life more than the
food, and the body than raiment ? " First, it is to be
noticed that the forbidden anxiety is on behalf of the
physical life and of the body, and then our Lord, so
far from speaking of either with contempt as a Stoic
would have spoken, reminds His hearers of the ex
ceeding value of both as compared with the secondary
objects which are only valuable as they minister to
one or the other. But, of course, the answer might
be returned that our anxiety about food is due entirely
to our conviction of the value of the physical life, our
fear of being left without raiment is a fear not on
account of the raiment, but of the body which de
pends on the raiment. How, then, do these words
help us, since the value of the physical life, which they
emphasise, is already fully appreciated by man ; and
any menacing of that life perturbs him ?
This last form of words, however, requires mending.

BE NOT ANXIOUS 293
In a sense man clings to his physical life as being
precious to him, but this is from an unreasoning
animal instinct which is quite compatible with a for
getfulness of the real dignity of that life. Such forget
fulness is very widespread. If the marvel of our
physical life and of our bodily structure were vividly
present to our minds, there could be no such thing as
injuring the health with excess of food or other forms
of sensuality.1 Sensuality, indeed, which shows man
" thus blindly with his blessedness at strife," even if
there were nothing else to be considered, would justify
the emphasis of the words, " Is not the life more than
the food ? " but more is intended. A little considera
tion of what our physical life means, the mystery with
which it is encompassed on every side, its dependence
on spirit, its adaptability, the hints we get as to its
immortality, these are sufficient to convince man not
only that his body is a very beautifully made machine
but that it is a gift to him from God wonderful beyond
all words to describe, inconceivably beyond his own
power to fashion or to sustain, though as to both he
has his own necessary part to play. In short, our
Lord is once more reminding us that we are recipients
of a wondrous gift from God's hand, and the argument
is, " If, as you must acknowledge, your physical life is
a divine gift, can you not spare yourselves the worry
about its maintenance and protection ? He who
furnished the life will furnish also the necessaries ;
the greater wonder guarantees the less, and you are
not to suppose that God fashioned this wonderful
organism in order to see it perish needlessly'' And
however much we may be deceived by the appearance
of needlessness, it still remains true that of all ways
1 The wonders of man's physical life in its delicate relation to the laws
of the natural world are admirably set forth in Dr. Wallace's book,
" Man's Place in the Universe."

294 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
of dealing with the problem, worrying is the most
abortive. No undertaking is better carried on because
of solicitude or harassing anxiety, and though it be
true that the temper which is free from anxiety is
sometimes too prone to acquiescence, this does not
affect the general truth that the kind of worry which
absorbs the mind and robs it of tranquillity has an
influence which is wholly injurious and enfeebling.
Thus in the question, " Is not the life more than the
food ? " our Lord implies that the perspective in
which man views life requires correction ; that is to
say, the indulgence in anxiety is either the cause or
the outcome of a certain blindness, and so far is
again similar to the laying up treasure on earth. This
latter we found to be akin to the blindness which results
in an attempt to serve two masters ; the anxiety we now
see to be akin to a blindness which destroys the true
proportion in which life is viewed, so that we easily
fall into the delusion that the food is more important
than the life which it supports. Yet this is a manifest
untruth. Thus the whole subject yields a good
instance of law that man has a clear sight of truth
but lacks power to apply it. In other words, the
large abstract principles on which Christ's teaching
is based are readily perceived ; but man in his
conduct of life tends to substitute for them others
which he knows to be false, till at last the power of
seeing the inconsistency disappears. Our Lord
makes His appeal through all His teaching to the
minority whose honesty of heart was not yet spoilt
by the influence of the hierarchy in Jerusalem.
But the two illustrations, chosen to enforce the
opposite truth of God's care for man, require notice.
" Behold the birds of the heaven ; " " Consider the
lilies of the field." It is a mistake to suppose that
these enforce the same idea of utter heedlessness as

BE NOT ANXIOUS 295
to the wants of the physical life. As the teaching is
concerned with the temper of mind required in the
kingdom, the figure of the lilies must have a very
indirect application ; and, again, birds cannot be men
tioned as instances of living creatures which ignore
the claims of the physical life. There is no better
instance of unremitting attention to those claims than
that afforded by almost any mother bird during the
nesting-season ; the day is spent in a ceaseless quest
for food, and the bird is a type of strenuous activity
directed to a certain end. But it is all to satisfy
immediate needs ; the distinguishing characteristic
in birds is their complete absorption in the present and
disregard of the future. The part they have to play
to meet the demands of the one is very exacting, and
wonderfully they respond to it. But considering this
we find it remarkable that their instinct allows them
to leave the future wholly to take care of itself, in the
sense that it requires absolutely no provision. There
fore their continued existence affords a singular
picture of cheerful unremitting labour for the present
day, undisturbed by anxiety for to-morrow, the whole
being a revelation to us that we are under the care of
a God who is bountiful. Immeasurably great would
be the increase of real happiness on earth if all
followers of Christ deliberately set themselves to
ponder frequently on this parable from nature. As
things are we spend a vast amount of time in picturing
to each other how pregnant with disaster the future is.
The forecasts are mostly falsified, but the important
question is, ought they ever to have been made?
Human history affords very scanty evidence of their
usefulness ; but even if this were otherwise, for a
Christian the ethics of such forecasts do not depend
on their usefulness in the affairs of life, but simply on
the question how far they disturb our feeling for God

296 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
as a Father who provides for His children. This is
our Lord's test, and in interpreting His words we
must apply no other.
" Are not ye of much more value than they ? "
These words give a warrant to us for recognising a
scale in creation. It might appear as if this estimate
were based solely on the status due to men's physical
life without reference to his higher endowments of
mind and spirit, since only the physical life is here
under discussion. But man's complex being cannot
be thus partitioned. The welfare of the body is
inextricably linked with that of mind and spirit.
Our Lord next reminds us pointedly of the useless-
ness of worry, the translation of the words which is
most coherent being "Which of by being anxious
can add one span to his age ? " The Greek is
certainly ambiguous, and perhaps the difference
between the two renderings is not very important,,
excepting that this one has a special interest. It
refers to the paradoxical fact that anxiety to prolong
life not only generally fails of its object but embitters
the time that the life does last with useless cravings
and discontent. It might have been expected that
the more we paid attention to our health the better
we should be ; but, in fact, the exact opposite would
be nearer the truth. For while it is easy to be care
less of the laws of health, it is still easier to think
too much of them and overrate their importance.
The Discourse then passes on to the second great
illustration of God's bounty — the lilies of the field.
The differences between the two objects chosen are
instructive. The fact concerning birds to which
attention is directed is that they are kept alive, while
we have to notice about lilies that they are beautiful
to the eye. We may distinguish them in this way ;
birds are to us types of exhilarating activity, con-

BE NOT ANXIOUS 297
stantly in motion, constantly uttering sweet sounds,
either busy in pursuit of food or singing in sheer
enjoyment of vitality, but not torpid ; those at least
are their general characteristics. But flowers we
think of as emblems of what is stationary and utterly
tranquil and quiet, existing, as far as we can tell,
mainly to please the eye. The birds are active,
therefore God feeds them ; flowers are lovely, there
fore God clothes them, in each case exercising lavish
bounty to secure that the living thing shall fulfil its
natural function. But what, then, about man ? His
function is not to add beauty to the natural world
simply by living a natural instinctive life, but to seek
the kingdom of God and His righteousness, knowing
that his Creator will not allow his spiritual efforts to
be spoilt by the physical life failing for want of
support. In other words, we have to do with a
Heavenly Father who is a God of bounty and loving-
kindness, and who having regard to the purpose of
each created thing's existence, gives without stint
what is necessary for that purpose to be achieved.
This, of course, ignores exceptions and abnormalities
of all kinds, but there is no mistaking the main drift
of the teaching. Therefore for human beings to
allow themselves to be seriously fretted about the
needs of the lower life is to take a wrong view
not only of God, but also of their own place and
function in creation ; thirdly, we might add, it
impedes the higher activities, undermining confi
dence, absorbing and distracting strength and
generally causing life to be ineffective. Nature, on
the other hand, reveals the law of God's dealings,
that where the object in view is connected with
appearance, the provision made for it by God is
lavish and wonderfully successful, but not in any
way dependent on the toil and effort of the creature.

298 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
A difficulty however arises with regard to a sub
sidiary illustration introduced in ver. 30. What is
meant by "grass" ? The tone is apparently con
temptuous, and the use of the word translated " but "
at the beginning is not what we should have ex
pected. The word for grass would ordinarily mean
" provender," but here is used widely with reference
to the fact that common vegetables and plants were
used in Palestine for fuel. There seems therefore
to be a connexion as follows : Birds exhibit beauty
of motion and utter sweet sounds, hence they must
be fed ; lilies exist mainly as ornament, hence they
must be clothed. But they belong to the class of
common plants which are ephemeral in their lives
and very soon are worthless except for fuel ; and yet
God clothes them with great richness. See there
fore how God provides that these humble objects of
His creative power should fulfil their existence. Why,
then, should man be anxious about the necessaries of
his lower life ? He has a far higher raison detre, and
God will secure for him the means of fulfilling it.
" O ye of little faith." Our Lord's hearers were not
among those who utterly discarded this principle of
life. For those He has no message, but He speaks to
those who could not help recognising it, yet in their
own lives acted upon it feebly.
One or two questions arise here. Are we to restrict
the warning to a limited form of anxiety, namely, that
which is concerned only with life's necessaries ?
The answer depends on the principle assumed in
the warning, and how far it is of wide application.
We have seen that it is based on the idea of a trust
in God's fatherhood being powerful enough to uphold
men in the midst of the most perturbing problems
and bewilderment. Now if this trust is all important
with regard to the special anxieties under discussion,

BE NOT ANXIOUS 299
it must be so with regard to others ; and it would be
inconsistent with the method adopted by our Lord
to restrict the application of the principle to the
particular instances which He happens to select.
The exceeding gravity of the warning becomes
apparent when we extend our thoughts to human
life at large, and think of all the numerous causes
of that anxious foreboding which is ordinarily
assumed to be right and reasonable, though when
we meet with a character which is free from
it we cannot withhold our admiration. Whatever
ardent wish we may form for a particular kind
of success, in some undeniably useful undertaking,
or for the prosperity, in the best sense, of some
institution with which we are connected, or in
some disinterested effort to spread God's Word
abroad, or to promote the good of those most
near and dear to us, in all of these and many
more there may come a time when the evidence of
what is ordinarily called failure grows upon our view
and darkens more and more of our horizon. It is
taken for granted, then, no matter what may be the
teaching of the great Sermon, that anxiety deep
enough to prey upon the spirits and enfeeble our
vigour is not only natural but almost laudable, so
far are we removed from the principles of Christ's
teaching. That is just the moment for us to remem
ber that that kind of uneasy misgiving as to what is
coming is a sign of flat disobedience to one of our
Lord's most emphatic warnings, and is to treat His
supreme divine example with a studied disregard.
The lesson conveyed is indicated by the exact
meaning of the Greek word for anxiety, which by its
derivation signifies " something which distracts or
divides," and we have to ask what does it divide, and
rom what ? According to the whole tenor of the

300 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
discourse there may be two appropriate meanings*
By indulging in anxiety about his earthly welfare
man divides himself from God, or, perhaps more
appropriately still, he destroys his own singleness of
mind and aim. It is a sign that he is not single-
minded in his wish to fulfil God's will simply ; if he
were, he would long ago have learnt that God's
scheme for him and his best efforts may very pro
bably include failure as it is ordinarily reckoned.
Whichever of these two meanings be preferred, the
word chosen is remarkably suggestive, only we can
not be sure that there was any one word in Aramaic
which corresponded at all closely. The hint of man
destroying his own single-mindedness reminds us, that
when man allows himself to be absorbed in earthly
concerns the result is not a single-minded devotion
to the wrong thing but a double-minded wavering
between the true and the false, showing that do
what he will he cannot cut himself off "from God
who is our home." This at least is the view of the
New Testament writers, and it is full of deep
suggestion. Verse 31, as rendered in English, might give the
impression that the warning is against a luxurious
fastidiousness in food and clothing. But apart from
the fact that the Greek word irolov would be required,
the sudden plunge into that subject would destroy
the unity of the paragraph altogether, and introduce
a warning against a well-understood folly, which it
was never Christ's practice to give.
" For after all these things do the Gentiles seek ; "
that is to say, there must be some difference between
the " nations " and the chosen people which explains
the fact that the former are naturally immersed in
mundane matters, but the latter, from their superior
knowledge of God and nearness to Him, are called

BE NOT ANXIOUS 301
to something higher. And >f this be the case with
the chosen people, how much more with the mem
bers of Christ's kingdom ? Or are the words to be
restricted to the latter ? In this case there would be
a distinction drawn between the followers of Christ
and the Gentiles which is not found elsewhere, and
which, considering the course of events in the future,
seems somewhat unnatural.
The tone of the closing words is full of sympathy
and consideration for mankind, and ought to make
it quite plain that the warnings are meant to guide us
to what is really practical, to save man from fretting
himself idly and injuriously before the trouble comes.
Tenderly the Saviour appears to contradict His own
warnings by foretelling that there will be anxiety
when the day comes. This is, of course, one of the in
imitable touches of sympathy in Christ's discourses.
He had just said, " Be not anxious," but well He
knew, that as long as human hearts can bleed and
human eyes can weep at the thought of sufferings,
there must be anxiety. None the less the injunction
that this feeling should be checked till the moment
of trial actually comes is exceedingly weighty and
important. Why should poor harassed men and
women add to the inevitable suffering the pains of
useless foreboding ?
There remains yet one point. We have seen that
the warnings against this particular infirmity, though
connected with the two necessaries of life — food and
clothing — yet undoubtedly extend to all worldly care
and needless forecast. But there is one kind of solici
tude which to many natures is the most harassing of
all, viz., the misgivings concerning the state of the
heart. Especially after understanding the tremendous
gravity of Christ's words as to the deep essential need
of purity of motive and single-mindedness, a struggling

302 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
follower may well find himself haunted by misgiving
on this subject. Is his inmost character improving ?
Can he mark any progress during the last few years ?
It is not difficult to discern a distinction between this
kind of anxiety and any other. View them as we like,
all other objects of worried and perturbed thought
are earthly in their character, transitory, and of
importance only because they apparently are neces
saries of existence. Such are food and clothing,
the certainty of fairly regular employment under
healthy conditions of life, and so forth. Then there
are many other subjects which provoke anxiety con
nected chiefly with the opinion others form of us, our
general reputation as people who can do adequately
what we have been set to do. This large class of sub
jects might be shown to be productive of anxiety in
proportion to the amount of error and worldliness in
our view of human existence. We can all feel that if
our minds were as " other-worldly " as they ought to
be, and might be, most of our concern for such a thing
as reputation would immediately disappear. The truth
of many of the reflections in Ps. xlix. would be felt,
and, in short, the feeling for eternity would alter com
pletely our ideas of the importance of these and other
common objects of care. But when we come to con
sider our own character-growth and that of those who
have been specially committed to our care — our chil
dren, for instance — one longs to know definitely how
far our Lord would have countenanced anxiety on such
a point. Here is no ephemeral desire for some pos
sessions which most of us know we should be better
without, and which moralists of all ages and countries
unite in warning us against as being full of danger to
those who grasp at them, and only innocuous to those
who despise them ; but rather a deep consideration
for that portion of our being which we know to be

BE NOT ANXIOUS 303
immortal, the welfare of which is known to suffer
immeasurably from want of thought and solicitude,
and about which over and over again our Lord has
taught us that the one superlatively important thing
in human life is the state of the soul which may this
night be demanded of us, the question whether the
salt has lost or is losing its savour. Now, it surely
is too much to demand that mortal men and women,
with immortality stretching before them, but to be
preceded by the great and terrible fact of Divine
judgment, should be free from anxiety on such sub
jects as this. There would seem to be something
almost startlingly unnatural about any such require
ment, and yet if one kind of anxiety divides us from
God, it is not easy to see how any other kind can be
wholly free from harm.
The full consideration of this question would per
haps belong more appropriately to St. Paul's well-
known injunction, "Work out your salvation with
fear and trembling." But there is one answer to
be gathered directly from the context of our Lord's
warning. Students of His teaching have observed
how dim and scanty are His revelations to us of
the future ; and it is of interest to observe how
little attention He pays to the history of man's past,
except by way of occasional illustration. But how
urgent and inexhaustibly rich are His references to
the importance of the present ! Thus it is no matter
for surprise to find that in this very passage, and
when cautioning His followers against anxiety, He
lays emphasis on "the morrow." Whatever may
be wrong or dangerous about anxiety generally, we
can easily see that it is its prematurity that constitutes
much of its foolishness. So in the matter of anxiety
about character development. There is obviously
a difference between the kind of solicitude which

304 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
makes a man diligently seize every opportunity of
doing right as it presents itself, and the tendency
to speculate nervously on the kind of person he
may be in ten years' time. The former is behaviour
which strengthens us ; the latter would be fatally
weakening. Therefore, anxiety about character may
at once be said to be dangerous if it peers into the
future. But if it inspires a strong resolve to leave no
stone unturned to "make our calling and election
sure," to see that nothing impedes our striving, and
that inclination has less and less place in determining
our line of conduct, it is then entirely wholesome and
in conformity with the principles which have guided
the lives of countless Christian heroes. This is tanta
mount to saying that while we injure ourselves by
examining the results of our self-discipline, it is our
bounden duty to see that it be thorough. There is
something introspective and curiously weakening in
the practice of prying into results, especially of our
moral and spiritual efforts. For this reason the scien
tific instinct of recording and tabulating sometimes
threatens to injure simplicity. But we may be sure
that such measures of self-discipline as we find our
selves bound to take will not be due to anxiety, nor
add to it, if they are the outcome of insight into the
true proportion of life's claims, and the meaning of
the present moment. When our Divine Master said
" It is finished," He did not mean that what we call
success was gained, but that nothing had been left
undone. This is the only true achievement which
lies properly within the scope of our responsibility.

XXIII
JUDGING OTHERS
vii. 1-5
The most obvious difficulty in these words is yet very
easy to overlook; what is the necessary connexion
between judging and being judged ? In what sense
is it true that immunity from being judged depends
on abstinence from the practice of judging ? Further,
we are reminded that there is a difference between
corporate and individual judging. Does the prohi
bition extend to both ? Is it also absolute and un
qualified ? And, finally, what is the judgment with
which we are threatened if we disobey this injunction,
the judgment by men, or by God, or by both ? Per
haps there is no moral precept quite so short which
contains so much food for reflection.
"That ye be not judged." This expression points
towards judgment for sin under certain circumstances
being remitted, under others remaining. Clearly,
judgment by God remains to be looked for by those
whose sin is not repented of, and if sin is not per
ceived there can be no repentance. The answer,
therefore, to the first question seems to lie here.
The habit of judging others is hardly compatible
with self-knowledge, for the simple reason that if
a man really knows his own faults he is indisposed
to be severe on others, having learnt to abhor faults,
and also the immense difficulty of a thorough re-
3°5 u

306 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
formation. Hence, sharp-sightedness for others'
shortcomings generally means blindness to one's
own ; and that is a fatal bar to repentance.
But this statement demands some discrimination.
It seems to assume that judging is much the same
as condemning, whereas there is a faculty of per
ception and insight into character which, so far
from being a fruit of a hard unrepentant heart, is
rather the symptom of a growth in goodness, and
of experience in battling with temptation. Can it
be supposed that the exercise of this faculty is for
bidden ? We seem driven back on the difference
between the spoken and the unspoken judgment.
Granted that the faculty of insight into character
is a high and noble one, yet the propensity to note
failings and pronounce upon them, or, keeping more
strictly to the meaning of judging, the habit of scruti
nising and classifying the qualities of another, is open
to many objections. It may be indicted as leading
into error, or simply as betokening an unpleasant
tone of mind. But our Lord forbids it as indicating
a want of true repentance ; for a man who indulges
in this habit is heedless as to his own relation to
God ; he cannot have made peace with Him, or else
the knowledge so acquired of the burden of sin would
prevent him from laying bare, or even giving close
attention to, the infirmities of otherSi The heathen
poet was not far from this truth in the line : —
" Non ignara mali miseris succurrere disco,"
seeing that the worst way of helping any one is to
show that you have scrutinised his faults of character.
Christ lifts the whole subject higher by showing that
the practice here forbidden denotes a wrong relation
to God. And it is worth noticing how we are restricted
to an interpretation which takes account of this rela-

JUDGING OTHERS 307
tion to God by comparing the jejune maxim of pru
dence, which is all that can be made out if the judgment
threatened here is only man's judgment. It would be
perfectly true to say that the tendency to note and
label the qualities of others brings upon a man that
very criticism to which he is himself inclined. A
cannot dissect B's character without inviting others
to dissect his, especially if there is anything merciless
in his own pronouncements. But if this is all that
Christ meant, it is a simple appeal to self-interest
instead of being a profound truth of revelation which
absorbs and justifies to some extent the human instinct
of repulsion towards this practice — a repulsion invari
ably felt by thoroughly healthy natures.
Thus the prohibition becomes intelligible. It is,
however, very striking in its context, referring, as it
seems to, to the evil of the world mentioned in the
concluding words of the last chapter. It is as if
Christ had been dwelling on the fact of the existence
of evil with the object of showing what was to be
the right attitude of His followers towards it. The
last chapter gives at length one important precept :
Do not let it make you anxious beforehand. This
chapter opens with the next great rule : Do not
judge it.
When contrasted with the text, " Judge not accord
ing to appearances, but judge righteous judgment"
(John vii. 24), the words afford a striking example
of Christ's method of saying one thing at a time
and leaving His hearers to correlate different as
pects of truth. Hitherto we have been considering
the word "judge" as if it were restricted to the
verdicts men pass on each other ; this is, no doubt,
an important application of the word, but the
text in St. John leaves us free to think of a wider
sense. There Christ was warning against a hasty

308 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
and superficial estimate of the right and wrong of
a particular line of conduct, an attitude, an interpre
tation of God's law as shown in His healing a sufferer
on the Sabbath day. Now, the central meaning of
the word is "separate," and as we use it, it conveys
the notion of separating good from evil, which is
exactly what we try to do when we make up our
minds as to such a thing as a political or social
movement, or, a tendency in human thought, specu
lation and public opinion. The startling thing in
the prohibition (Matt. vii. i) is the unrestricted char
acter of the application ; it seems to warn us against
all hasty conclusions as a moral fault, and, no doubt,
the more complex and important a question is, the
more of guilt attaches to the judging by first impres
sions according to appearances, and when we sin in
this way about the character of our neighbour, we
sin against the law of love. In a case like a political
question the offence is a moral weakness, a readiness
to be led by deceptive appearances which deceive
the multitude, and cause conventional opinion to be
always inadequate if not erroneous. In both passages
is there not a warning against any kind of hasty posi
tive conclusion ? Clearly there is, unless the applica
tion be restricted in John vii. 24 to the immediate
circumstances ; but it cannot be denied that the
connexion of the two clauses in Matt. vii. 1 is still
more difficult to seize if the application is general
than if it be only to harsh judgments on character.
The contexts, however, though they differ in Matthew
and Luke, seem to warrant the main application of
the words to the judging of our neighbour's character
and actions. The righteous judgment spoken of in
the fourth Gospel is evidently some sort of conclusion
different from such as are usually formed on appear
ances, that is deliberate, not necessarily conventional,

JUDGING OTHERS 309
but resting on deep principles. In both of the chief
objects of men's judgments, each other's character,
or some social movement, there is room for the
law of loVe to have full play. The Christian spirit
believes good to exist either in a fellow-man or a
society as long as it is possible to do so (1 Cor. xiii. 5).
And experience shows us that keen-sightedness for
faults is powerless to lift towards reformation. This
thought forms a connexion with the parable of the
mote and the beam ; but first we have to notice the
emphatic assertion of the law of requital. The
measure that we deal to our fellow-men will in some
sense determine the measure God will deal to us.
This law is stated by each of the first three Evan
gelists. In St. Luke and probably in St. Matthew it is
applied only to man's measuring out kindliness and
forgiveness to his neighbour. But St. Mark (iv. 24)
teaches, in connexion with it, that opportunities
will be considered in the final judgment; men will be
held responsible for the knowledge which was placed
within their reach. As regards moral conduct, how
ever, the great words apply only to the virtue of a
forgiving or kindly temper and the opposite. And
they point to the final judgment, for, as to this life,
Luke vi. 35 shows that God partly suspends the law,
and in so doing affords us an example of forbearance.
But the final requital is terribly pourtrayed in the
parable of the Unmerciful Servant, and elsewhere.
We learn from St. Luke that it will be due to all
species of unkindness, including that of the habit of
critical estimate of other men ; from St. Matthew, that
it belongs to that habit alone (perhaps to other rash
judgments). Thus we find ourselves endowed with a faculty
which must be kept in the sternest control, and yet
has frequently to be used. Some insight into char-

310 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
acter must be employed, and consequently some
judgment must be passed whenever men are selected
for any kind of organised service. But probably it
is in the matter of conversation where the temptation
to the abuse of the faculty is most pressing. When
ever we utter severe judgments on other men couched
in racy or sarcastic language, the fact that we are
injuring a neighbour who is not present to defend
himself is forgotten : simply because we are adding
salt to our conversation. The pungency of such
talk banishes dullness for a while, but all the time
he who so offends is causing the Divine judgment
to be laid up in store for himself in strictly pro
portionate severity, not only for the harsh and
heedless words, but because it is thereby made clear
that his own relation to God is wrong; he has not
learnt the beginnings of humility or repentance.
By healthy-minded men also a native instinct of
abhorrence is felt for this practice, if the memory
of the lately dead is thus violated ; less markedly
in the case of the living ; while as regards prominent
public characters long passed away, it is commonly
held that much liberty of judgment is allowed. In
general, it may be said the habit of noting the good
in our neighbours, and being at least reticent con
cerning the evil, is required of us by God more
urgently than perhaps any other duty which we owe
to each other.

XXIV
THE MOTE AND THE BEAM1
vii. 3. 4» 5
It seems advisable to separate these three verses
from the preceding, as they are in another context
in St. Luke, though it would not be difficult to con
ceive of them as spoken in the same discourse, and
as connected in the main idea. The scrutinising of
our neighbour's character would thus be condemned
for a new reason, viz., the beam in our own eye. The
parable, however, is a whole by itself, and we first
notice that ver. 3 condemns one thing, vers. 4 and
5 something different. And in ver. 3 /JXen-et? and
Ka-ravoeis are carefully used with different meanings.
But whether the parable is isolated or not, there is an
important question to be settled : Why is it apparently
assumed that he who regards his neighbour's tiny fault
is labouring under a huge one of his own ? So far,
we have had no hint that the critical attitude towards
others is adopted generally by those who themselves
are great sinners, and our curiosity is stirred to know
whether the prohibition in vers. 1 and 2 is based on
this assumption; or, on the other hand, are those
people who are fairly free from grave faults themselves
allowed to be critical towards others ?
A little reflection will show that if our Lord's teach-
1 For further notes on this passage, see the Appendix on the word
" H pocrite."

312 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
ing is treated in this spirit we may easily land ourselves
in crude Pharisaic distinctions. A Pharisee would try
to measure the degree of blamelessness at which a
man may be justified in being a judge of others,
and the very object of the use of paradox and parable
would be lost. The true answer to the question is
that, as simply judging without warrant is an offence
against the law of love, so this scrutinising of a neigh
bour's almost invisible blemishes is the same, an in
variable outcome of the unloving spirit; and any
fault compared to an unloving temper is like a mote
compared to a beam. He who notices (carefully looks
at) his brother's mote shows ipso facto that he has a
beam of his own.1
1 We should notice in passing the truthfulness of this picture as regards
the taking out of the mote. Men frequently attempt the task with
disastrous results, but there is no record in the Gospels of Christ doing
anything similar, though on one or two occasions an opportunity for doing
so seemed favourable. Compare Luke xxii. 61, xix. 5, xviii. 16 with Mark
ix. 36, Matt, xxiii. 13 seqq.

xxv
PEARLS BEFORE SWINE

This precept is quite without context, and is not
recorded elsewhere. Yet it is in the tone of the
Sermon. It will be remembered that in regard to
the virtues of prayer, almsgiving, and fasting, our
Lord assumes them, and gives warning against their
being wrongly practised. So here He assumes that
His disciples, having received, will be eager to give —
perhaps too eager ; and shows that the law must be
observed that some spiritual hunger in the hearers
should be a first condition of readiness to impart to
them that which is holy. We see the observance
of the rule in His own dealing with the masses,
especially in the use of parables, and indeed this
very Sermon is full of instances of deep spiritual
truth being veiled under images, paradoxes, and
similitudes. The wish to impart, which He here
ascribes to His hearers, is the first and most essen
tial characteristic of an ordained minister of the
Gospel. It has been mentioned by a great authority J
as the symptom of the " call " to pastoral work, and in
dispensable to any conscientious undertaking of such
work. But a preacher soon finds out that in modern
conditions of preaching to congregations composed of
the ignorant and spiritually apathetic,, along with the
» Dr. Hort.
313

314 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
well-taught and eager listeners, the difficulty of obey
ing the precept is most acute. We have, it is true,
our Lord's example by way of guidance, but, apart
from other differences, the Jews, whatever their faults,
were not apathetic in religious matters (cf. Rom. x. 2).
The words also imply that Christ discountenances
such impediments to the progress of Christian teach
ing as spring from blundering, want of tact, over-
hastiness, ignorance of human nature, while He gives
abundant warning, on the other hand, that the most
cautious efforts to spread the Word, if the attempt is
genuinely made, are sure to provoke opposition (cf.
John xvi. 2 reff. with Matt. x. 16 reff.).
A difficult question on a very different topic
arises out of this detached verse. It gives a vivid
picture of some one inclined to throw some valuable
object before wild hogs threatening to attack him,
and finding that it only delays their onset for a
moment, while they trample under foot the pre
cious thing intended to satisfy them, and coming
on more fiercely than before, rend him. Does this
refer to the Christian missionary's dealings with the
heathen, or to a teacher's difficulties within the
Christian society, the Church ? Opinions are some
times expressed to the effect that our Lord,
like many other teachers, intended some of His
doctrines to be esoteric, confined always to an inner
circle, while parabolic or veiled utterances were to be
the staple food of the majority. And it is not difficult
to see that natural indolence, which often discourages
progress in knowledge of doctrine, may be inclined to
justify itself by some such theory. Theological verities
are often expressed in such obscure language that a
man who has not been trained in processes of abstract
thought is not unlikely to think that, whatever
may be the value of such truths, they lie outside the

PEARLS BEFORE SWINE 315
horizon of his mind, and that he may reasonably
acquiesce in total ignorance of them for his whole
life long.1 Those, however, who favour this inter
pretation as regards themselves must be prepared to
be classified as dogs or swine by our Lord — terms of
the utmost contempt. Moreover, the emphatic and
beautiful likeness of an unbeliever to a child reminds
us that one of the prominent characteristics of child
hood is growth, and the figure is incompatible with
mental stagnation. Lastly, in the whole picture
given us of Apostolic action in the early Church,
there is no trace of any teaching being withheld
from the humblest member of the community. Our
Lord's parables were not a keeping back of the truth,
but the perfect adaptation of it to immature, ignorant,
and suspicious minds.
We are thus led to conclude that the precept does
not enjoin reservation of truth by Christian teachers
as a policy within the Church. It remains that its
primary application must be to missionary work
undertaken by the Church to those outside. And
this is indicated also by the picturesque image of the
swine turning and rending him who inopportunely
offers them precious things. Such words do not
describe the result of teaching within the Church, but
the fierce hostility roused among the heathen, and
aggravated in proportion to the holiness of the truths
imparted. Of course, there is need of wisdom and
tact in one case as in the other ; and it is clear that
even within the Christian society bad blood is stirred
by ill-judged attempts to force sacred truths into
minds not prepared to receive it. But as compared
1 A text which may be taken to support this view is Mark iv. n. But
" those that are without " need not mean those who are debarred from
entry through no fault of their own. Why not " those who might enter
but will not " ? Cf. John v. 40 ; Luke xix. 42, xiii. 34.

316 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
with the result on outsiders as testified to by mis
sionaries, the opposition is mainly that of inert re
sistance ; it gains in activity the more the membership
of the listeners is merely nominal. And it is a grim
truth that the worldly spirit, wherever it exists, may
be goaded to active hostility to Christ by any urgent
insistence on His claims. Both sets of truths, the
wisdom in avoiding the danger, and the unique
courage of outspokenness in facing it, are often ex
emplified in our Lord's ministry.
The expression "that which is holy" should not be
restricted to teaching. The society which Christ
founded was commissioned to impart to the world
that which is perfectly described in these words, viz.
the gift of the Holy Spirit Himself. And the awful-
ness of the resultant evils can best be measured in
this connexion. Premature or light-hearted distribu
tion of so holy a gift leads first to a contempt being
shown to God Himself, then to a manifestation of
rage against His ministers, terrible not because it
brings suffering upon them, but inasmuch as it reveals
and confirms the spirit of hatred and gives expres
sion to enmity against the divine. And, further, if
we picture to ourselves a man anxious to stave off
the onset of wild animals by throwing to them that
which for a moment looks like ordinary food, but is
in reality useless for this purpose, we learn the secret
of the antagonism. Carnal minds are influenced by
carnal appetites.
At first sight the teaching concerning the Kingdom
of God seemed to many to offer something likely to
satisfy earthly aspirations, but the truths delivered
were found to be useless for this purpose ; and so
man, who often takes a swinish view of such things,
in rabid disappointment, after scrutinising what is
offered him, turns and attacks the minister, as if he

PEARLS BEFORE SWINE 317
had defrauded him in a time of need with sham
victuals. His wrath is fierce because the fare is so
precious. But as soon as ever we clearly perceive this twofold
aspect of ministerial duty, the necessity for caution
and the need for unflinching courage, we are re
minded of the paralysing uncertainty which affects
much of human endeavour as to where and when and
how is such a precept as the one under discussion to
be observed ; and we ask ourselves if Christ's teach
ing is open to the same fatal objection as is felt
against such a teacher, for instance, as Carlyle, when
he tells us that toleration beyond a certain point is
a vice, but leaves it uncertain where the point is.
The answer is that if we isolate such precepts as this
one from our Lord's life and example, we .deprive
them of all power for guidance to our lives. He
showed mankind again and again how He acted
under the personal guidance of His Heavenly Father
in the application of these broad principles of con
duct. This close personal communion was to Him
of such transcendent importance that we cannot
wonder when we find it constantly assumed in His
teaching. Indeed, the more we feel the want of some
thing supplementary to the precepts of the new dis
pensation, the better they are fulfilling the purpose
of quickening men's sense of need.1
1 The whole of St. John vi. is a commentary on these words, and shows
how the precept is itself liable sometimes to be overridden. Christ had
to deal with a terribly difficult situation. The result of His bounty to
the five thousand was a clamorous and camal enthusiasm (vv. 24, 27),
and to check it He had recourse to the very expedient which in Matt.
vii. 6 is discountenanced. The holiest and most sublime teaching is given
to men who, with very few exceptions, were certain to misunderstand it,
and to be changed from willing learners into apathetic or active anta
gonists. Another instance is Luke xxii. 69, only it is to be observed that
on both occasions the divineness of the truths uttered is, so to speak,
tempered to the human mind by being presented through the Person of the

318 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
human Mediator. There is a difference between any claim made by our
Lord as to Himself while on earth, and the giving of the Holy Spirit to
the unworthy. One of the functions of the Son of Man was to translate
the divine offer into something intelligible to mankind, and yet so to veil
it in His own humanity that men unable to receive it might be spared the
guilt of railing blasphemously against " the holy thing," which might have
been offered to them simply as something free from all human admixture,
and able to be seen at once to be divine.

XXVI
ASK AND IT SHALL BE GIVEN
vii. 7-12
The first point to be observed here is that Christ
insists on one line of action in answer to the question
elsewhere worded : " Lord, what must I do to be
saved ? " He notes the universal need, and though
knowing man's readiness to try various devices for
raising himself, yet in this paragraph one principle
only is affirmed, to the exclusion of all others. Men
desirous of conquering an infirmity or acquiring some
power are not unwilling to take a great deal of
trouble, sometimes to the point of severe self-discipline
or prolonged self-culture. Christ says, "Ask, seek,
knock, and it will not be in vain." The first verb
gives us the idea of a gift promised not to effort, but
by the grace of God; The second reminds us that
nevertheless an effort on our part is demanded — the
effort of continued eagerness ; the gift is not to be
earned or claimed as a right or manufactured by
our own skill, but simply found. The third verb
speaks of the aspirant desirous of having impediments
removed. He is told again to rely on some one
removing them at his appeal. In all three there is
a Presence and a Person hinted at, though by the
use of the passive voice in each of the second verbs
Christ seems first to give expression to a law, viz.
that success is proportionate to endeavour ; but to
319

320 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
safeguard this against an impersonal secular sense
the figure is drawn out explicitly in the following
verses. The teaching is, however, strictly in the form of
a precept, then a law, then an illustration from human
life. In the threefold precept the tenses used are the
same ; present imperative, and future. But in the
statement of the law the present tense is used twice,
and the future once. Thus " he that asketh receiveth;
he that seeketh findeth ; to him that knocketh it shall
be opened." Is there any reason why the removal
of impediments should be spoken of as still in the
future ? The text might have run " to him that
knocketh, the door is opened." There may be an
indication that in the spiritual life the process of
receiving attends closely on the act of asking, and is
not separable from it in point of time. Earnest
prayer is in a sense its own answer. Similarly, all
endeavour of search after God or after goodness is
its own reward, in that an immeasurable gain results
from the mere search : the seeker finds while he seeks,
But the opening of the door is a figure which expresses
not only the removal of an impediment, but also the
entry into a house or other building : some place,
anyhow, entry into which is desired. This gives us
a hint why the future tense is used. Impediments
in the spiritual life are slow of removal. They block
and obstruct long long after we are first conscious
of them. As, for instance, in the case of a tendency
to wandering thoughts in prayer : many a petitioner
has to endure for life the feeling of kneeling, as it
were, in the vestibule of some lit-up palace, entry
into which, as well as a sight of its interior, is barred
to him, and he has to continue praying on in a kind
of spiritual darkness and silence, till of a sudden the
obstacle is taken away and a flood of glory and

ASK AND IT SHALL BE GIVEN 321
warmth streams over him : " It shall be opened."
Or it may be that the opening is delayed till the end
of what we call life ; as some impediments are only
removed by death, and the removal of them is like
the entering into the King's palace. The prospect is
suggestive of freedom, glory and welcome, but we
should notice that though couched in language of the
future it is instinct with the idea of the present. It is
not said that there will be an opening unless there
has first been a knocking.
In the following verses, which give the illustration
from human life, it is assumed that we, through our
higher feelings, can conceive of God's attributes.
Ethical man looks towards God, obeying the very
instincts which must have been implanted by Him.
Thus a man's natural conduct towards a son (uto?
emphasises the legal position of a son, tzkvov = the
offspring who receives the same life) implies the
recognition of an obligation not discerned by beasts,
higher by far than the parental instinct which in the
animal kingdom stimulates fostering care, but dies
away as soon as the young can fend for themselves.
This instinct in animals is the satisfying of an un
thinking desire ; but in man there is the recognition
of the claims of a spiritual being, of the training of
character and of guidance far on into life. Christ
points to this ethical perception as to something
divine existing in man though he is "evil" (irovnpo?,
corrupt), and from it (ye know how to give) we may
infer that God much more will give (contrast o'lSare
BlSovat, with Bcoo-et).
There is, however, a significant reticence with re
gard to what the asker will receive. The answer to
prayer is often not the thing asked for, but, what is
far better, the power to bear the refusal with un
diminished trust and with no tendency to faint-
X

322 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
heartedness. The example of our Lord in the garden
of Gethsemane illuminates these words. The actual
request was not granted, but an angel came and
ministered to Him. It is to be noticed, however,
that as a parallel to the " good gifts " which men
bestow on their children, the promise is that God
will give "good things" to those who ask. St.
Matthew leaves the promise very broad ; but St. Luke
gives instead the striking variation, " How much more
shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to
them that ask Him" (R.V.). True prayer, even if
apparently not answered, cannot fail to bring us
nearer God ; it teaches us conformity to His will,
and in itself it is the gift of the Spirit, just as the gift
which results from it is also the reception of a more
abundant endowment of the same spirit. The Third
Person of the Holy Trinity inspires the prayer (Rom.
viii. 15) and comes to the petitioner as its reward.

XXVII
THE STRAIT GATE AND NARROW WAY
vii. 13, 14
The difficulties that crop up when these verses are
fairly looked at are indeed numerous ; and they force
on us the important question, how far is the general
interpretation to be restricted to the exact parabolic
expressions or drawn from the less definite associa
tions of the words ? What is the picture ? A narrow
gate, leading into what ? Led up to by a narrow road
or path, hemmed in by what ? And our ideas of the
passage are seriously encumbered by a loose remi
niscence of a somewhat similar saying in St. Luke
(xiii. 34), which presents quite different difficulties of
its own.
Many quotations of the words are made on the
assumption that the expression " narrow way " means
a way difficult to travel on, arduous, painful. But
clearly there is no warrant for this. " Steep " would
have been the word used in this connexion, and
" narrow " must not suggest to us more than " hard
to find " and " hard to keep when found." So, too, the
"narrow gate" suggests a gate easy to miss; not one
which will only let in a very few travellers at a time.
For, in St. Matthew at any rate, there is not the least
hint of many passengers trying to force their way into
some palace or rich man's ground. The idea would
be quite inapplicable here as well as grotesque in

324 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
itself. The expression " few there be that find it "
warns us against imagining that the difficulties be
longing to the narrow way, or the narrow gate, are
due to anything like a crowd. Therefore it must
denote some course of life hard to find and hard to
keep, but marked, out for us to follow if we are to
escape destruction. Again, it is tempting to ask, what
is the relation of the broad and narrow ways to each
other ? As soon as the wayfaring man strays from
the latter is he to be pictured as inevitably joining the
throng on the former ? Once again, " Many there be
which go in thereat." Whither are these tending ?
Are they wishful to gain the door, or have they
abandoned themselves to a broad and easy road,
knowing of whither it leads ? In the former case
they belong to the large class who say with Balaam,
" Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my
last end be like his," but meantime are unable seriously
to consider whether the life they are leading is likely
so to end. It is probable that this is the kind of
character intended ; but certainly the emphasis of
the parable is on the expression " narrow way," and
to that we must give our attention.1
The word " narrow" suggests the difference between
a track or laid path and the ground that lies on each
side of it. The "narrow way" denotes a way off
which the traveller may easily walk, and the difference
to him then is that he has to go on without guidance
1 There are some ambiguities in the Greek which should be cleared up,
though there is nothing specially important in them. It is doubtful if r\
iri\i\ should be read in ver. 13, and from ver. 14 it is omitted in some minor
MSS. The text, however, goes on to indicate a certain identity in point
of importance between the gate and the way, the 31 alrrijs referring equally
well to either. Similarly at the end of ver. 14, air^v, as far as sense goes,
could refer to iri\i) or bS6s or fwij— by position it ought to refer to the
latter, only then the parallelism with ver. 13 would be lost, where SI avrijs
cannot refer to iiruXela.

STRAIT GATE AND NARROW WAY 325
or beaten track, over ground which is dangerously
like the path to look at, but is found to fail when
attempted. This would be either because it is soft
and treacherous, or because it leads nowhere. NoW,
if the main drift of the Sermon be taken into ac
count, and the tremendous emphasis it lays on the
danger of a false conception of duty rather than on
the need of being dutiful, we seem to be guided to the
notion of life being a progress beset continuously by
deceptive influences, but guided by something like a
main principle which, if we choose to observe it, will
keep us from straying into error and aimlessness, and
will give us the sense of being led homewards straight
to our journey's end. And in strict accordance with
the spirit of the two opening chapters of the Sermon,
our attention is drawn to the fact that this principle,
though known and recognised by all, is very easy
indeed to lose.
In startling contrast to this, the parable describes
another way of ordering life, which, like a broad road
thronged with companions, presents no difficulty
either on the score of danger of straying or from
lack of society. Nothing is said as to the relation
between this road and the other, else it might have
been taught that the straying from the narrow path
inevitably lands the pilgrim into the broad road. But
true though that may be in fact, the shape of the
parable forbade its inclusion in the teaching, so that
it does not concern us here. Again, emphasis might
have been laid upon the loneliness of the narrow path,
compared with the broad way crowded with " many,"
and we may suppose that Christ mentioned the fact
of the disparity of numbers to guard His disciples
against discouragement. Man is gregarious, and in
stinctively finds strength and support in the fact of
companionship. None the less, he may be sure that

326 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
if he allows this instinct to determine the way in
which he orders his life he will go wrong. Of com
panionship on the wrong road he will have plenty;
on the right road it is not promised.
When we gain a fairly clear idea of the picture of
the two roads, we are surprised that our Lord does not
enjoin upon us the need of choosing the right road,
thereby enforcing the importance of a wise delibera
tion now while we have the chance of choosing. But
the imperative is " Enter ye in by the narrow gate " ;
and our thoughts are vigorously directed, not towards
the pilgrimage of life, but to its close. Hence the
terrific import of the words, " And many be they that
enter in thereby," which read almost as if the Speaker
were actually watching the throngs pressing in through
the gate which leads not to "life" but to "destruc
tion." (The phrase is altered in the parallel clause,
where the difficulty of finding the narrow way (or
gate) is mentioned, which difficulty in the case of the
broad way would not exist.) This remains, then, one
of the very rare instances in which Christ speaks of
the future rather than of the present.
And now we have to ask, what kind of life is
signified by the narrow and broad way respectively ?
It is very doubtful if the answer is intended to
be very clear cut, but there can be no doubt as
to its main sense. The chief characteristic of the
pilgrimage of those on the broad way is the ease of
it in respect of knowing what and where the road
is. We call up images of a handful of wayfarers on
the other road carefully picking out the track, but
perpetually liable to lose it by straying over its edge
on this side or on that, because it is so narrow.
But the majority, who have chosen the other road,
have no trouble in keeping to it. They have nothing
to do but to drift. The breadth of the road prevents

STRAIT GATE AND NARROW WAY 327
them from straying, while the multitude of com
panions bears them along in a vast current almost
irresistible ; and when they come to the gate, it is so
wide that they are hardly aware of their passing under
its portal till they are on the far side, about which
nothing whatever is told us. This must be a picture
of a life spent in conformity with the world. Its main
feature as compared with the other is its heedlessness ;
for on a narrow path the traveller must continually
take heed where he sets his steps, else he wanders off
the track, there being but a few fellow-travellers to
help him with their guidance. Here we have a
picture of a life lived by some principle not com
monly recognised but obeyed by a small minority.
It is never so easy to put into words the secret of the
true life as it is to show the meaning of the conven
tional. In Scripture the problems are more intelli
gible to us than their solutions, one of which in the
Book of Job, for instance, we eagerly wait for, but
when it comes we hardly understand it.
But, taking the drift of the Sermon as far as it has
been defined, we can hardly be wrong in seeing in the
vivid expression " the narrow way " the figure of the
life of sonship to a Heavenly Father. It is a life
which for its safe conduct requires heedfulness and
movement ; but the main fact indicated is the liability
to lose hold of the leading principle and substitute
some other without knowing. In almost infinite
variety the world presses its invitations upon us. At
one time the single-hearted servant of the Most High
is scorned and insulted, but anon the very conduct
for which he was derided is the subject of praise and
flattery; so that he is reminded of the words of the
ancient poet, "With the flatterers were busy mockers,"
and he wonders which of the two threaten the more
grievous thraldom — the world's approbation or its

328 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
contempt. It does not take many years of trying to
live the life of sonship, as recipients of life and in
tranquil trust, for men to discover that it is a life
which may be very easily corrupted and spoilt un
awares, but that as long as it is faithfully followed it
gives its own evidence of unerring progress towards
a distant goal.1
1 If we turn to St. Luke xiii. 24 the striking difference in the handling
of the figure will suggest some useful thoughts, There the parable is
spoken in answer to an unnamed questioner who asks, "Lord, are they
few that be saved?" The answer is, "Strive to enter in by the narrow
door ; for many, I say unto you, shall seek to enter in and shall not be
able" (R.V.). The words which follow tend slightly to suggest that
the unsuccessful seekers here have been seeking to enter by the right
door. And the last word laxfoovinv recalls 6.ya>vlfea-8e, and seems to
give this sense : Strive, because there will be a general failure of strength,
and it will need all you have got. But whatever the spiritual sense
may be, it is hardly conceivable that our Lord should exhort His
followers to put out their strength in an endeavour in which many fail
from want of strength. Such teaching would be depressing and unlike
any which we know to have fallen from His lips. The other sense will be,
" Strive to enter by the narrow door, because many will try to enter by
other doors but will fail owing to want of strength," or simply " will
not be able." If this is correct, there remain two questions : (a) What is
the meaning of the narrow door ? (6) Why are the future tenses employed ?
It is, of course, possible that the words as handed down are defective
and that it is not possible to recover the exact relation between the
simile and the thing signified ; and we may remark in passing that
the two passages tell against the use of a common document on the
part of Matthew and Luke. But be that as it may, it is best to fix the
connotation of the adjective " narrow," so as to suit both passages if
possible, and that may be done if we take it to mean " hard to find."
" Straitened," in Matthew vii. 13, may point to the additional feature of
a road hemmed in by obstacles, underwood, or rocks ; but while this
would add to the vividness of the picture, it would not prevent the main
idea being "hard to find."
So the general interpretation of Luke xiii. 24 will be as follows :
The question refers to fewness or the reverse of those who are in the
way of salvation. The central idea conveyed by the words as they stand :
" Those who will be eager to enter My kingdom will be numerous
enough. But of these many will fail from insufficient strength. Do ye
therefore strive to enter by the only door which is possible to such as you
with limited strength ; it is narrow and hard to find, and the attempt to

STRAIT GATE AND NARROW WAY 329
By way of summing up and showing the connexion
of clauses we may paraphrase thus : Think of the end
enter by it, i.e. to keep faithfully to the road which leads to it, will involve
a struggle." This can now be applied to the pilgrimage of the world :
" There is a course of life determined by certain essential conditions ;
when once these are ignored the way is lost. The keeping of these con
ditions is the difficulty, and involves effort. It is very easy to be careless
about them while being sincerely anxious as to the salvation which is
offered ; but the result is that the traveller aims at heaven by a way not
prescribed, which is broad and easy to find and keep to, not hemmed in
by conditions, but leading to destruction. The conditions are those which
are insisted on throughout the New Testament — self-surrender to Christ,
renunciation of the world, repentance, &c. These bring grace and
strength sufficient for achievement, but through life there is a constant
temptation to walk without surrender of self though with every wish to
reach the goal, i.e. enter the palace, and if there are other doors they
require strength which is not promised. The walking by the wrong road
is the living easily, ignoring these conditions ; easily, because our inclina
tions are to a false independence, and we go accompanied by a crowd,
since as soon as self-surrender ceases the securing of men's approbation
becomes the dominant motive."
Thus the two passages emphasise different aspects of the journey of
life. The verses in Matthew give as the key-note of the parable "few
they be that find it." The Luke passage supplies the precious thought
that strength for the pilgrimage is only to be expected on the prescribed
road ; also the very important detail, that many who fail are yet anxious
to succeed. In short, we have again a vivid warning of our Lord's against
the wrong sort of effort to gain heaven — by a method described as easy
and suitable to the common temperament of mankind. This description
fits exactly to the almost universal tendency among all nations and peoples
towards a false independence of God. We are sliding from the narrow to
the broad way as soon as our religious life becomes divorced from the
principles laid down by Christ. He taught that our pilgrimage towards
salvation must be that of a corporate society, conditioned by repentance,
faith, hope, and charity, but, above all, by surrender to Him and con
formity to God's will.
In St. Luke " many will seek." This obviously points forward to a
state of things not begun when the words were spoken. Something is
forecasted as going to come about which will make it easy to desire
salvation, and yet to go the wrong way to attain to it. The future tense
can hardly mean less than this ; and such a description fits with the
founding of the Christian Church, dating from which time the greatness
of the hope held out to mankind has stirred ineffable longings ; but
their fulfilment has been often thwarted by man's insane desire for
independence.

330 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
of life to which your pilgrimage on earth is meant to
bring you — the entry, as you hope, into eternal life
itself. The reason why this is necessary is that there
is a wrong way of travelling and a wrong entry, both
leading to destruction, not to life; and unless you
have clearly in your minds the end which you hope
to gain, you will easily misconceive the meaning of
your earthly pilgrimage, and live, as many do, the life
which ends in destruction. Because the true end and
aim of life is thoroughly understood by only a few,
and so only a few are living by the right principle
which would guide them thither. That principle I
have been explaining to you all along ; it is that your
lives should be in every single respect the lives of
those who realise that they are God's children, and
that in His fatherly care of them they can trust
entirely ; and so their joy will be to do His will, with
hearts and minds ever set towards Him. Thus the
Christian life is like a journeying along a narrow path
towards a narrow gate ; it demands constant watch
fulness, or you may stray from the right principle
heedlessly, and find yourselves wandering in error
while fully believing you are making for the goal of
eternal life. The end of your journey is difficult to
make sure of, and so also are the principles of conduct
which will lead you thither. If either one or the
other were easy, there would be some excuse for
thoughtlessness ; but, as it is, there is none. But be
prepared for finding that it is of no use relying on
human advice and the influence of prevailing fashion
in this great matter. Such guidance as that depends
on your doing as the majority do ; but I tell you that
you must travel on a road where there are only a few
companions, and however much you naturally crave
for companionship you must be prepared to do with
out it, finding always sufficient spiritual guidance in

STRAIT GATE AND NARROW WAY 331
your relation to God your Father. Very different
from this is the pilgrimage of those whose aim is to
satisfy the broad and easy demands of fashion and
worldly opinion. Plainly, they will live a life in con
formity with the large majority ; their end is easy to
achieve, and the way to it they cannot miss, as they
only have to drift as if they were floating down a
broad stream ; but it is the law of the life which you
have to learn that whatever that end may appear to be,
it is in reality destruction.1
1 This paraphrase, which from its very awkwardness may bring out
into clearer relief the nervous beauty of the original, is intended to show
what lines of thought are suggested by one among several ways of reading
the Greek original. The most important alternative would be to take the
"gate" as meaning the entry on to the narrow way, instead of the entry
into a palace or city (e.g. Sadler, " Comm. Matt."). Apart from the
fact that the lessons which this interpretation would afford seem much less
fruitful (which, of course, ought not to weigh in the question), I rely on
the R.V. reading of Luke xiii. 24, dipas not iri\ris, as indicating, even
more decisively than iriXy, the end of the journey, or some kind of portal
through a wall. Moreover, it is more natural to think of a road as leading
to than from a gate. For it may perhaps be assumed that even if Christ
spoke the parable twice, varying the words, yet the same general picture
was in His mind (cf. John x. 7, 18). If this assumption is disallowed,
and we are thrown back on the alternative, it is very doubtful what mean
ing should be given to irO\n. Sadler (in loc.) takes it as meaning Baptism.
But besides the incongruity with the general tone of the Sermon, why
should Baptism be described as a narrow gate? It admitted three
thousand in one day (Acts ii. 41), and, ever since the conversion of
Constantine, has been, on the whole, the fashionable mode of entering on
a Christian profession of life. No such particular interpretation is possible,
and the utmost we could do would be to conceive of some decisive initial
conversion of heart independent, apparently, of Baptism. But it is doubt
ful if our Lord would have laid down an injunction to His hearers to "be
converted," as if it were an act which lay within their power. [At least,
no support for such an idea can be gathered from the use of iirurTpicioi.}
Possibly a vaguer sense may be intended : "The life to which ye are
called is difficult to follow, and very different from any kind of worldli
ness." Such interpretation would be free from some difficulties, but, like
other general paraphrases, would yield far less instruction than the definite
rendering adopted here.
Other points in the Greek are suggested by the double Sri. Here the

332 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
first is taken as = " because," introducing the reason for the command
elo-4\ffare. But the second Sti I have ignored as being a doubtful reading.
If it is thought that this is an inconsistent course to adopt with a R.V.
reading, then the conjunction may be taken (i) as co-ordinate with the
first Sti, and giving a second reason for the command , or (2) as giving
a reason for the clause introduced by the first Sti — a sub-subordinate.
Neither seem very satisfactory, and the reading rl = how ! exclamatory, is
certainly tempting.

XXVIII
THE PROPHETS IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING
vii. 15-20
Some light, though only of a negative kind, is thrown
on the vexed question of the composition of the
Gospels, by a comparison between this passage and
Matt. xv. 14 and Luke vi. 43. There is a disposition
in some quarters to assume that St. Luke's grouping
of the sayings of Christ must be historically accurate,
while that of St. Matthew is according to the writer's
view of their connexion. Now in Luke vi. we find
the saying about the tree and fruit dissociated from
that about the blind guides. In Matt. xv. the latter
parable is spoken in the most natural possible con
nexion, which has every appearance of being accurate ;
while, per contra, the Luke connexion is impossible
to trace. Either, then, the Luke connexion is inac
curate, or the saying about the blind guides was
repeated. If Matt. vii. 15 is accurate, the saying
about the tree and fruit was also repeated. And if,
indisposed to allow repetition, we are prepared to
weigh impartially the claims of Matt. vii. 16, 17 against
Luke vi. 43, there is little doubt that the connexion
of the former is far more logical and natural ; so that
we seem in two ways to be warned against assuming
that St. Luke's chronological accuracy is in every case
more certain than that of the writer of the first Gospel.
This estimate is, of course, made on the assumption

334 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
that we can reasonably expect a logical connexion
in such writings as this. On this point, however,
some doubt is admissible.
We have first to remark the unexpected character
of the disguise attributed to the false prophets. Is
not a prophet something of a leader ? and if men
are compared to sheep, a false leader, i.e. one who
chose to assume the role without warrant, would
naturally choose the garb of a shepherd. Clearly, there
fore, there is an emphasis in this turn given to the
parable. The false leaders find it expedient to don
the garb of those they profess to lead. Again, the
present tense, " come " : does this denote the normal
habit of those who are described as false prophets ?
or does it mean "who are even now coming to you" ?
If the former, then Christ is uttering a warning
against a danger to which the Jews had frequently
succumbed. On the other hand (i) the era of false
Messiahs was at hand, though some had already ap
peared, and during the next forty years the sad ten
dency of the nation to follow blind guides was going
to be manifested ; and (2) apart from the future sense
hinted at in " beware," the words " By their fruits ye
shall know them " seem to restrict us to the times that
were coming. The question then arises : Is the say
ing to be confined to the Jews, or is it of universal
application to all who were going to profess and call
themselves followers of Christ ? As in other cases,
the answer will depend on the view taken of the
purpose of the great Sermon. The general instinct
seems to us correct, to expand the sayings to the
needs of the Christian Church of all time. Certainly
we agree in recognising this character of nearly all
the warnings and exhortations, and it is needless to
withhold this recognition unless the laws of language
and interpretation compel us to do so,

PROPHETS IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING 335
It is also possible that the expression "false pro
phets " points towards something less special and local
than a false Messiah. It denotes properly one who
without warrant lays claim to inspiration, and to
being a mouthpiece of the divine Being, and hardly
suits the military national character of a leader like
Barchokebas. But the next words afford some
guidance to the meaning of ver. 15. "By their
fruits " (or the meaning of them) " ye shall know
them well."
The fruit of a tree is the visible sensible expression
of the tree's life, and is that by which we habitually
judge of the quality of the life. One, therefore, who
lays claim to inspiration professes to possess a power
of life different from that of others. Our Lord says
the quality of this claim will be certainly tested by
the general outcome of the man's work and character,
and He goes on to emphasise the impossibility of His
followers being finally deceived. Just as it is im
possible for us to rate the life of a thistle, as if in fruit-
bearing power it resembled a fig-tree, so when the
time comes for the results of a man's life to appear,
be he teacher or leader or interpreter of God's words,
it will be impossible for different estimates to be
formed. The soundness or rottenness of the char
acter will be decisively revealed by the operation of
a law just as certain and as easy to test as that which
reigns in the vegetable world distinguishing the fruit-
bearing from the barren life. And if we are puzzled
to know the purpose and meaning of the barren trees
and barren human lives, our Teacher, in words of
unmistakable vividness, points to the fact that the
former, though failures, still serve a purpose of their
planting : every one of such trees is used for firewood.
So human lives which evidently fail of the object for
which apparently they were created yet do not end

336 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
in useless extinction. It would be rash to press the
details of an image so very briefly expressed and
probably in a much condensed report; but we are
reminded of the frequency with which in Christ's
teaching the end of the unproductive human life is
spoken of under the figure of fire — irresistibly
suggesting a scorching, purifying, transfiguring pro
cess ; and in this verse with the further idea hinted
at of usefulness in spite of dry decay. And He
closes with a ^a^'-triumphant recapitulation. " So
you see, then, that by their fruits ye shall know
them." Such seems at first sight the connexion of ideas in
this passage as it stands. Profoundly interesting
topics are suggested by this handling of the subject,
one of the most difficult and important of which is
the ethical character of human judgment. Men are
here encouraged to judge, whereas in vi. i they are
forbidden to. Again, there is a remarkable difference
in the contexts of the Matthew and Luke passages.
In one, fruits are pointed to, to allay anxiety lest we
should not be able to discern false prophets. In the
other, the figure is used to condemn over-readiness to
judge. The one gives confidence in judging ; the
other checks it. In both a tranquil patience as to our
neighbour's claims and faults is enjoined, the fact
being that in time the result will show itself un
mistakably and according to an invariable law. As
to the time when this will take place we have to learn
some caution in inquiry. The answer given to the
question, " Lord, when shall these things be ? " seems
to teach that curiosity as to the future is not to be
encouraged, certainly not to the belittling of the
present with all its eternal issues ; and it is probable
that in all the divinely inspired prophecies there is a
sense in which the final fulfilment is anticipated, even

PROPHETS IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING 337
repeatedly, by the events of human history. But in
this passage there is a striking emphasis laid on the
future, "ye shall know them," in comparison with
the present, " who come to you in sheep's clothing,"
as if the danger was present, but the enlightenment
whereby it is to be met was foreseen as a gift ; and
we are reminded of the definite promise in St. John
of the Comforter who " shall guide you into all truth."
It is very easy to under-estimate most seriously the
magnitude of the event in time which is spoken of as
the gift of the Holy Spirit to the Church. Can any
thing greater ever have happened than the beginning
of the special indwelling of the Third Person of the
Trinity in mankind ? And the more we reflect on that
sublime climax of all the high hopes of the human
race, the less unwilling we shall be to find indications
in Christ's teaching of the preparatory character of
His work on earth, as if the divine event in the
immediate future were in some sense ever present to
His mind. We find, in short, that here, as often else
where, a state of life is foreshadowed which for some
reason not stated is to be specially favourable to the
manifestation of spurious goodness and greatness, and
against this manifestation Christ gives the most
solemn and impressive warnings, which are echoed
by His followers ; and though, when speaking later
to His apostles, or to the leaders of religious opinion
in the Temple, He becomes more definite, there is
nothing surprising in His touching upon the subject
repeatedly in this great early discourse where He is
sketching the qualifications of membership in His
kingdom. We may, therefore, take the main sense
of this passage to be, that though the danger had
always been to some extent real, the foundation of
that kingdom was to be the signal for a special
form of counterfeit goodness congenial to the self-
Y

338 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
asserting instincts of men, viz., the appearance of
would-be leaders of opinion, interpreters of God's
messages, inspired teachers ; possibly men of
thoroughly genuine conviction, and certainly plaus
ible enough to be dangerous (else, why should the
warning be given ?), but that along with their appear
ance on the scene a law would operate to strip off
their disguise, so that the divinely enlightened vision
of Christ's society would plainly perceive the true
character of the claim by its outcome. If the char
acter of the prophet were sound, it was certain that
the work done and the message delivered by him
would be so far sound and stable that there would be
no mistaking its nature. If the future tense is taken
not as pointing forward to the gift of the Holy Spirit,
it can only mean that with patience and after a lapse
of time the true estimate is certain to be formed.
This is tempting ; but we must not forget that
throughout the Sermon the hearers are addressed
as those who presently were to be members of a
corporation (v. 20, vi. 10). In this very passage,
indeed always where men are compared to sheep,
the picture called up is that of a flock. There is no
animal which so irresistibly suggests gregariousness
as a sheep, since a solitary one is almost certainly
strayed from the flock and exhibits every sign of
bewilderment and helplessness. A lost sheep is not
a sheep which has lost the way towards a particular
goal, a pasture or a fold, but one which has simply
lost its fellows ; and though the parabolic uses of this
animal are appropriate in other ways, notably for its
dependence and instinct of following, that is no
reason why we should ignore the emphasis laid on
our life as Christians being that of a community.
So Christ treats the problems of conduct in the light
of social claims, that is to say, the claims of brother-

PROPHETS IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING 339
hood. And if here this aspect is present to Him, why
should it be supposed that the transcendent fact of the
Holy Spirit's dower is omitted ?
The figure of the false prophets being clad in sheep's
clothing instead of shepherds' is very suggestive.
The teachers assimilate themselves to the taught, take
their standard, pretend in every way to be one of
them, as gentle and inoffensive, while in their secret
hearts they are bent on seizing gain for themselves to
the destruction of the flock. Taking the Old and New
Testaments together, we shall hardly find any warn
ings so terrible as those directed against sham guides,
false teachers, self-constituted prophets, all of whom
are actuated by motives of gain. And how great
then must be the responsibility of those who are
divinely called and ordained to the ministerial office
in Christ's Church, especially in days when the world
is insisting more loudly than ever on the need of
clergy being " in touch " with the laity ! There is, of
course, truth in this claim, but its urgency may well
be prompted by a simple wish for easy and pleasant
relations. People prefer to have clergy about them,
and are ready to make much of them if only they
will adopt conventional standards and not be too
strict nor too obviously lax. And, on this side, the
priests are under a constant temptation to make gain
out of this very conformity to a required standard,
though it can hardly escape their knowledge that
herein lies the wolfish character, ravening for gain
even at the cost of the lives and souls of their flock —
the gain either of good position or reputation, or
friendly relations or neighbourliness; while, as there
is no tone of the Cross in their message, no severity
in their lives, no fruit of painful study or mortifica
tion of self, " the hungry sheep look up and are not
fed." And the time will come when the barrenness

34° THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
of such a life will be manifested too clearly to be
mistaken ; and then by another law, quite as certain
in its operation, comes the awful and mysterious
sequel of the drama of a human soul : the tree
that beareth not good fruit is hewn down and cast
into the fire.

XXIX
NOT EVERY ONE THAT SAITH UNTO
ME, LORD, LORD
vii. 21
One of the perplexing facts in Christian life is that
there are many natures to which the moral ideal
exhibited by Christ is supremely attractive, and by
them the allegiance demanded to conscience and duty
is freely given ; and yet they are the very natures to
which the personal element in religion is uncongenial.
We all know people whose deepest emotions are
stirred by questions of right and wrong, and whose
rectitude is entirely admirable, but who always find
prayer an effort and are unable to say that their spirits
ever glow with a feeling of personal union with God.
For these it is sometimes thought that this text supplies
consolation. The words seem at first sight to exalt
rectitude of conduct above an emotional and easily
uttered piety, and, taken in that sense, they cannot fail
of being acceptable to an age which flatters itself that
it is practical, and recognises that " religiosity " is an
affair of temperament.
This interpretation of the words, however, is aston
ishingly shallow and misleading. It ignores the heart
of each clause of the verse. And the simplest way to
arrive at some idea of the depth of meaning contained
in the words is to examine first the sense of the title
341

342 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
here given, "Lord, Lord," then that of the phrase
" doeth the will of My Father." 1
The title "Lord" is a rendering of three Hebrew
words of different degrees of grandeur. When it
translates the highest of the three it is printed in both
of our versions as " LORD " ; when it denotes the
second it becomes " Lord " ; when it is merely a
respectful title, the capital is dropped and the word
stands as "lord." Thus here the second of the
appellations is intended. So we have to ask what is
meant by those who give (or gave then when the
words "our Lord" were spoken) this title to Christ,
and we are at once brought to the idea of a positive
outspoken recognition of His divine claims. And
such confession of His name was then, as always,
but especially then, a proof of great moral courage
and of insight into the divine character. There were
many powerful influences at work to bewilder the
minds of the Jews ; just as in the present day
a genuine heartfelt belief in Christ as our Lord
has to contend against innumerable subtle solvents,
distractions of modern life, extravagant claims of
science, and the imperious demands of a host of
worldly interests. At no period of the Church's life
has such a confession been easy ; and there is nothing
whatever to indicate that Christ was thinking of a
sham belief or an insincere profession. So we have
no right to restrict this solemn warning to the ordinary
hypocrites who abound everywhere. Why should
Christ have thought it worth while to warn mankind
against that which is universally held to be odious ?
We may be sure that these tremendous sayings were
intended to expose some sort of religion which,
though hollow, was to be imposing and in many
respects admirable ; and the first indication of the
1 Vide Hastings' " Bible Dictionary " = Article, " Lord."

NOT EVERY ONE 343
meaning of the words fully bears out this surmise.
We may paraphrase the warning clause," Not every one
that recognises My Messiahship or even My divinity,
not even if he has had to face obloquy and loss of
happiness, or to lay down his life for his belief, will
enter into the Kingdom which I am here to found."
The repetition of the word " Lord " need not mean
the insincerity of mere lip-service. It would equally
well describe real emotional fervour : the paying of
homage to Christ as Lord with true ardour and
enthusiasm. All that is included in what we call the
religion of the heart as well as the bravest orthodoxy
and intellectual discernment of His claims seems to
be indicated by the phrase, with perhaps more em
phasis laid on warmth of the feeling than on depth
of thought. The verse becomes more instructive the
more of what is admirable we see in the phrase.
Christ says : " It is possible to be what you would
all take to be the highest type of a religious man, and
yet fail in the one thing needful." We must remark
on the astonishing character of the claim here ad
vanced. Jesus at the time of the delivery of the
Sermon, as far as we know, was not yet recognised
by the people of Galilee as Messiah ; but here he
speaks of warm-hearted allegiance to Himself and
open confession of His greatness as the marks of a
religious spirit which, though it needed something to
supplement it, was sure to captivate mankind ; other
wise the warning would not have been needed. It
was as if He had said, " I come to found a Kingdom.
But the most ardent allegiance and worship of Myself
is not, as you would have expected, all that is needed
for true membership." The terms in which this ad
mirable but possibly hollow religion is described are
most striking. How much simpler the verse would
have been if the description concerned only con-

344 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
temporary Jewish orthodoxy and strictness. But the
words now are full of the future. They anticipate a
state of things when loyalty to Christ shall have been
accepted by men as essential — so much so that He
found it necessary to point out that however excel
lent a thing this loyalty was, there was only one thing,
and that not necessarily the same, which could be
called really indispensable to true membership. It
is difficult to imagine any saying which could show
a more piercing insight into the situation.
It is important, however, to note that though our
Lord here emphasises afresh the tremendous truth of
the deceptiveness of the religious life, there is no
crude classification or disregard of the complexities
of human character. The cautious phrase " not
every one" implies quite clearly that there is no
necessary incompatibility between the loyalty to
Himself and the one thing needful which is afterwards
stated ; only that it is possible for the former to be
divorced from the latter. We are not even told that
this is easy ; but it is possible, and therefore a warning
was necessary.
Our interest now becomes awakened to see what is
the one essential which must take precedence of this
enthusiastic devotion to Christ and recognition of His
highest claims. What type of character is to be
secure of entry into the " Kingdom of the heavens " ?
But before considering this we may modernise the
first expression, and think what it specifies among
men's characters as we know them to-day.
At the time the words were spoken they denoted a
feeling towards Christ which betokened a power of
resisting fashion and discerning the meaning of a
great transition, the change from the old to the new
Dispensation ; the gift of adaptability and under
standing of novelty, shown in the lofty achievement

NOT EVERY ONE 345
of welcoming the Saviour when the great mass of
public opinion was against Him. Such gifts are
nowadays shown by some who in the highest regions
of human life have risen superior to custom and con
vention ; whose religion is elastic and first-hand, and
perhaps distinguished by courage, ardour, and power
of leadership. Only choice spirits could be reckoned
among the best of these. They are among those
without whom great progressive movements in the
history of thought and social development would have
been impossible. Adaptability to new conditions, new
minds, new ideas is a singularly useful gift ; when it
shows itself in religious matters by loyalty to the
highest, and by intrepid devotion, it becomes rare and
wonderful ; when it rises to the height reached by a
John the Baptist or a Paul, it becomes sublime ; and
yet Christ tells us that there is one thing the want of
which would have excluded all saints so endowed from
the Kingdom He came on earth to found.
" But he that doeth the will of my Father which is
in heaven." So is described the type of man to whom
the Kingdom is not barred, no matter what defects in
other departments of character he may have. The
first observation to be made on the words is that they
point towards a personal relation with God. If
among human beings A wishes to do the will of B,
he must first ascertain what it is. In certain cases
this can be done by reading written statements, but
only to a strictly limited degree ; that is, in so far as
a certain set of outward actions can be prescribed.
Again, and to a similarly limited degree, the will of B
can be determined through an intermediary reporting
to A. But suppose the wishes of B refer not only to
what A is to do, but what he is to be, it is obvious that
these wishes can be safely determined only by personal
intercourse, maintained so as to lead to mutual know-

346 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
ledge. And so it is between us and God. To act out
the will of God is possible only on one of two con
ditions. Either man is a machine impelled from out
side and not responsible for his actions, or he is a free
agent in relation to a living Being whose mind he
must learn before he can live in conformity with it.
Already, then, we are far removed from the position
which was suggested by a first superficial reading of
these words. " To do the will of God " would be a
strange expression for a mechanical performance of
routine duty, though in some cases it may conceivably
in appearance only come to mean something like this.
The words are only appropriate to the description of
a life which outwardly exhibits an inward conformity
with the divine Mind ; and that conformity, as far as
we know, is only the result of personal intercourse
leading to intimacy, coupled, of course, with willing
ness of self-surrender on the part of the human being.
It is worth while to notice the tone in which the
doing of God's will is spoken of elsewhere by our
Lord — Mark iii. 35. He who so lives is reckoned by
Christ as if he were a blood relation : " The same is
my brother and sister and mother." (Cf. the remark
able variety of expression in Matt, xviii. 14.) In
Matt. xxi. 31 it is spoken of as the test of virtue,
determining which of two men was the better. The
warning conveyed in Luke xii. 47 is tremendously
stern. The knowledge of the divine will, if unaccom
panied by action in life with a view to the Judgment,
will entail the punishment of "many stripes" (John
iv. 34), but the faithful performance of the will gives
sustenance to the doer and independence of material
goods. Even so (v. 30) the searching after God's will
gives the faculty of unerring judgment. (Cf. vi. 38,
39; vii. 17; ix. 31.)
But the striking expression itself would be of little

NOT EVERY ONE 347
use to us had it not been completely illuminated by
the conduct of Christ Himself. He revealed to us in
all its perfection the life of a deoSiSa/cTot;, of one " taught
of God," and in Him we see the living variety of an
inwardly renewed life applied to every circumstance
of difficulty, danger, joy, sorrow, and contravention
of worldly principles, and perpetually replenished by
prayer. Men naturally gravitate towards formulated
inelastic directions for ordinary conduct, under the
delusion that they may be saved the trouble of
thinking. This is man's natural preference for what
is dead to that which being really full of life makes
a demand on his energies ; and it was exhibited
in precisely this form by the Judaisers in the early
Christian church. Their zeal for the Mosaic law
and tradition of the elders was largely the desire of
the mentally and spiritually slothful ; the craving for
that kind of guidance which promises exemption from
the necessity of self-conquest and gradually increasing
closeness of intercourse with the invisible God. Men,
if they are spared this, are willing to take almost any
amount of trouble of an unspiritual kind. As St.
Paul sorrowfully admits about his countrymen, they
had zeal, not Kara yvaio-iv ; not the sort of zeal quick
ened, sustained, and informed by the knowledge of a
personal God.
Once more : the idea of God's will is enriched
by the paraphrase " of My Father which is in the
heavens " — words which add the idea of the source
of our life, inspiration ; being all that is contained
in the notion of a Fatherhood, just and loving, also
spiritual, and belonging to a higher order of being.
The thought of intercourse with such an One seems
to suggest that of knowledge, which plays so important
a part in the following verses.
In short, we seem to find in these most solemn

348 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
words a startling and searching caution illustrating
the text, "Ye cannot serve God and mammon." Im
pressive though a life may be which is lived in out
spoken ardent loyalty to Christ, distinguished by
courage of conviction and power to withstand a
flood of worldly influences, yet it is possible that
such a life may after all be selfish. To some natures
religion is an affair of inclination, and as such has to
be braced and purified by discipline ; and if selfish it
may become wilful ; and if wilful it acts contrary to
God's will, and so becomes an instrument in the ser
vice of mammon ; or, like the sweet endowment of a
taste for music, simply a means of self-gratification.
It is, alas, possible for selfishness to don the garb of
worship. And while there is no belief which ought to
inspire so much self-devotion as the belief in the In
carnation, there are some who sincerely hold the
belief but lack the renewing power of intercourse
with God which comes of waiting on His will, be
cause though they believe they do not act out their
belief in prayer. People must have thought eighteen
centuries ago that the confession, " Lord, Lord,"
could not be made from interested motives, and so
we may think to-day — yet it can.
The words indeed drive us back relentlessly on the
paramount necessity of the foundations of the char
acter being sound — a hopeless message to mankind,
unless some prospect be foreshadowed of the gift of
inward renewal. Again, the Sermon points forward
to Pentecost. For the holding out of a false hope or
the pressing of demands which are far too lofty to be
satisfied, and which yet stir our noblest yearnings,
would be not only a disappointing of mankind by
Him who came to " seek and to save that which is
being lost," but cruelty. And we cannot conceive of
cruelty on the part of One who loved mankind so well.

XXX
"MANY WILL SAY TO ME IN THAT
DAY"
vii. 22, 23
At first hearing these stately words contain a message
of terrific import with regard to the claim made upon
the followers of Christ, and again they assert, somewhat
suddenly, the majesty of the Speaker, and elevate the
humble teacher in Galilee to the position of supreme
Judge of mankind. Sometimes those who are disposed
to take what may be called the anti-dogmatic view of
the person of Christ, and rely vaguely on the supposed
simplicity of the Sermon on the Mount, seem to
ignore the question raised by these verses. Either
the words were spoken early, as here recorded, or
later, and recorded out of chronological order, or not
spoken at all. In the present condition of our know
ledge of the structure of the Synoptic Gospels it is
vastly easier to assume one of these theories than to
prove it ; indeed, not unfrequently one of them is
assumed on wholly subjective grounds, and the verses
treated as of greater or less importance accordingly.
We will proceed to consider first the questions sug
gested by the words themselves.
Christ draws a picture here of Himself uttering at
some future time a verdict on many claimants to His
favour, who can point to a series of brilliant and
beneficial achievements performed, as is thrice as-

350 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
serted, in or by His name. And the reason why the
claim fails utterly is that He will recall the decisive
fact that He never knew them ; and in recalling this
He will banish them from His presence, stigmatis
ing them as workers of " iniquity," or, more accu
rately, according to Matthew, " lawlessness " ; Luke,
" unrighteousness." In Luke the Psalm (vi. 9) is
differently quoted, and the context of the saying is so
different that it is advisable at present to leave out of
account the semi-parallel in considering the Matthew
text. What is meant by Christ knowing, or not knowing,
one of His professed followers ? And is the know
ledge thus specified to be conceived of as mutual ;
that is, would the indictment be the same as " I tell
you ye never knew Me," which to a modern reader
would give a far simpler sense ?
Whichever of these may be the meaning, it is clear
that, broadly speaking, the fatal defect here spoken of
is the absence of a certain personal relation to Christ.
In the endeavour to conceive more precisely of this
relation, we must notice, first, that it is spoken of as
of supreme and decisive importance in the face of
claims which are stated with all possible emphasis.
What is set aside as of secondary importance and
not indispensable to salvation is not simply brilliant
and successful endeavour in the highest department
of human service, but achievement attained to by
workers in His name, apparently the description of
prolonged and utterly loyal fidelity to the Lord.
Again, the word " lawlessness " suggests that, what
ever be the defect of this service so described, its issue
is that it is in a direction or plane away from the true
law of man's being. Thus man, if he is to fulfil the
highest possibilities of his nature, must be in a certain
personal relation to Christ, the absence of which can

MANY WILL SAY 351
be compensated for by nothing, not even by the most
dazzling success in the endeavour to restore and uplift
human life, in the name of Christ, by inspired utterance,
or by victory over evil spirits, or by triumphant control
of matter by spiritual power. And the sentence finally
passed on a life so lived is that it will not be rewarded
by permission to dwell with the Lord ; it must con
tinue in banishment from Him, the reason being that
He never came to get knowledge of such applicants.
We are still in much doubt as to the meaning of these
last words.
Scholars have clearly ascertained the difference be
tween the two words for "know," one of which is
used in this text, the other from the semi-parallel in
Luke (xiii. 27), " I know not whence ye are." Our
word is shown to mean, " To get to know, as one
learns another's character by sympathy through ex
perience." Thus Christ is described by St. Paul as
one " who knew no sin," never had personal experi
ence of it ; but in Luke xiii. the meaning simply
is, " I am not conscious whence ye are ; I do not
know." 1 So perhaps we may paraphrase the Matthew
text, " Depart from Me ; I never saw in you that which
was like My own character ; the rest lay outside My
cognisance." In short, may we not conclude that
what Christ sees but does not " know " in the lives of
those who will come before Him at the last day must
be simply sin. While on earth He never got to under
stand sin, says St. Paul, though constantly brought
into violent contact with it ; it never got root in His
being, but throughout it remained true that the
" Prince of this world . . . hath nothing in Me "
(John xvi.). Now, obviously the knowledge a sinful
man has of that which we call sin is deeper and more
1 Note on yiyviiirKu and oXSa by Evans on I Cor. xiii. ; viii. I. West-
cott on John ii. 24. Addit. note, p. 45.

352 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
intimate than that possessed by Christ, the sinless
One, who, as we may infer, anyhow from St. Paul,
was limited in respect of this kind of knowledge, just
as we may conceive of God as limited in respect of
His action by the existence of free-will among some
of His creatures. The sentence begins to be intel
ligible to us if we take it as indicating that in these
lives there will have been so little that is Christ-like
and so much that is " sin " — a missing of the mark,
a deflection, in spite of all appearances, from the true
development of man's being — that it will be impos
sible for Him to say that He ever thoroughly under
stood the character. What He will have looked on
while the life was being lived is something which He
never knew by experience.
Thus the verdict in becoming more intelligible
becomes also more terrific to us in so far as it relates
to ourselves and the possible issue of our own lives,
and more startling in the supreme might and para-
mountcy of claim asserted by Christ for Himself.
But any honest learner must desire to know more
of the kind of characters spoken of, and to seek out
any possible test whereby we may distinguish broadly
those whom Christ knows from the " many " whom He
knows not. And again we are led to think if there
is any way of conceiving at all clearly why some are
spoken of as known by Him rather than as them
selves knowing Him.
Interpreters will differ in their answers to the first
question. But we are safe in recurring to the text
and stating the question thus : Granting that the
appearance of some lives is all that could well be
imagined in respect of dazzling success in the noblest
forms of human endeavour, what is wanting, or what
may be wanting in spite of all ? One answer clearly
is, the humility of a personal service. In the putting

MANY WILL SAY 353
forth of his utmost energies for the amelioration of
his fellow-creatures, a human being may rely on the
Divine name to give force to his appeal and to his
undertakings, and all the time feel rightly sure that he
is working " in the name " or " by the name "of Christ.
And yet the motive may be ambition and the outcome
self-glorification ; and if that is so the issue will be a
character so totally unChrist-like that we should be no
longer bewildered at being told that He never got to
understand it with the understanding of sympathy
and progressive intimacy corroborated by experience.
Christ does not say here that the plea " in My name "
is altogether true ; the words imply that the speaker
will think them true, and so there is no need to
inquire how far the expression can truly be applied
to any work which in motive is alien from the Christian
spirit. Thus it is possible for the brilliant achieve
ments to be compatible with a character so selfish
and ambitious that the conscience may have lost all
discernment as to motive, and be ready to plead in
all sincerity that the work has been in loyal service
when it has in reality been done wholly " apart from
Christ " (John xv. 5).
Other ways of describing the wrong kind of spirit
in which work is undertaken might be suggested. It
would be consonant to the teaching of the New
Testament to put in the very forefront of the char
acteristics demanded of the Christian worker, that he
should be ever convinced that all that he has he has
received (1 Cor. iv. 7). Where this conviction holds,
ambition is impossible, unless ambition is conceived
of as entirely unselfish ; but if it is, it should be called
by another name. As soon as the conviction dies or
is never planted, then the very brilliancy of successful
work for Christ is sure to foster the unChrist-like
temper of self-congratulation. z

354 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
" And then will I profess unto them, I never knew
you." We have noted certain facts which help us to
understand the negative phrase expressing the unlike-
ness to our Lord in certain characters ; but the
converse remains to be explained. In Gal. iv. 9 St.
Paul hints at the existence of human beings who may
be spoken of as knowing God in an incomplete way,
but as being known completely by Him. Now if the
inference from Matt. vii. 23 is sound, viz., that when
our Lord describes Himself as failing to know a
character, it is because He cannot know what is
thoroughly alien to Himself, we seem to be right in
further inferring that where God is spoken of as
knowing men it is because in spite perhaps of appear
ances, the character is fundamentally Christ-like ; the
loyalty is to God, or at least to goodness, and not to
self. And this knowledge of God being spoken of as
complete indicates that the personal relation is com
plete ex parte Dei, but that is not the same as saying
that it is necessarily complete ex parte hominis at the
same time. In other words, we have a hint given us
that there may be many lofty-souled human beings
unselfish to the core and growing in steadfast devotion
to goodness, pure and upright and strong, who yet
may not be conscious in any vivid way of a personal
relation to Christ. Devotees of different religious
systems have at times tried to make out that such a
religious attitude as this is wholly wrong, and pro
bably many of us are quite aware of the difficulty
of proving from Scripture that our instincts in regard
to such people are not in error ; that we are right in
believing them to be acceptable to God, known by
Him and growing in His grace, though perhaps they
themselves know it not. A great deal of our New
Testament language, and perhaps all of our Prayer
Book phraseology, presupposes in the reader a sense

MANY WILL SAY 355
of the personal relation with the Divine. But we can
hardly suppose that such a sense is a necessary con
dition of salvation. If we listen to St. Paul in another
great passage, we shall have a light cast on the ques
tion from his own conviction : " Then shall I know,
even as also I am known." These familiar words
from 1 Cor. xiii. would be more accurately rendered,
" Then shall I fully know, even as also I have been
fully known." The knowledge of God possessed by
the believer is clearly conceived of as incomplete
now but going to be completed hereafter. And if in
all cases it is incomplete now, we have no reason to
be surprised that in very many cases it has not
advanced beyond the embryonic stage : there must
be every variety of degree of intimacy. And when we
consider the mysterious fact that the growth of the
religious sense (as distinct from the moral) is, like the
growth of all other faculties, dependent on the care
and training due from elders and parents, but lament
ably often withheld, we shall be ready to expect that
very often the sense of growth in this respect is
imperceptible, and so we are confronted by the
puzzling fact of great moral beauty of character
co-existing with apparently little interest in the
devotional side of religious life ; because while prin
ciple is the mainstay of such lives, it is not always
referred to a Person. And the pity of it is that the
energy of religious zealots of all classes is liable to
exert itself in extracting from such people professions
of warm feeling and spiritual fervour, which, if
made, could not be genuine. This endeavour results,
as might have been expected, in stirring up the
inclination to take up an attitude of antagonism
to any definition of faith, and is one, though per
haps not the chief, of the causes why many of the
educated laity dislike creeds. Preachers to mixed

356 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
congregations are faced by an almost insoluble prob
lem in this respect. Not only do people go to
church whose interest in all abstract discussion, moral,
religious or philosophical, is strangely languid, but
some of the most useful workers in the parish are
mentally so constituted that appeals which are dis
tinctly religious, as apart from being only moral, are
made in their case to faculties which have been left
dormant, and apparently will remain so till the end of
life ; while such appeals are urgently demanded by
the third class, who are naturally well represented, of
those to whom a sense of the divine life within them
is strong — anyhow, strong enough to be perceptibly
growing, and to induce a feeling that any exhortation
which passes it by is powerless to move or to uplift,
and leaves behind a sense of nourishment withheld.
Our Lord surmounted a similar difficulty in Palestine
by the use of parables.
Thus we may sum up the central idea of these
verses as follows : There is a kind of homage paid
to Christ which is vehement in expression and rich
in profession of loyalty to His name ; but, owing to
the subtlety of the sin of selfish ambition, it is easy to
be completely deceived as to the genuineness of this
homage and of the loyalty which it apparently ex
presses, and so to invest a whole life of self-glorifica
tion with a halo of veneration for Christ. And this is
true even if the life inspired by a selfish aim has been
rich in splendid achievements on behalf of suffering
humanity, and wrought always in the full profession
of allegiance to our divine Master. It would be
possible so to work with results ensuring the advance
in happiness and even in goodness of whole genera
tions of men, and with every appearance of sure and
outspoken belief in the power of the Christian pro
fession, and in singleness of aim of a life devoted to

MANY WILL SAY 357
Christ, and yet to be so utterly estranged from Him
in spirit that in the end His verdict will be that He
never found anything whatever in such a character
with which He could sympathise, or which He under
stood as being really like Himself ; and so the answer
to the proud claim of triumphantly successful service
is that the work throughout has been a working of
lawlessness, in a direction contrary to the true de
velopment of a man's higher nature. It has been
throughout apart from Christ, and so finally the
severance, which has been completely veiled by the
lustre of brilliant achievement, has to be mani
fested to all. "Depart from Me, ye workers of
lawlessness."

XXXI
THE HOUSE ON THE SAND
vii. 24-27
The extraordinary vividness of this parable, and
especially that part of it which pictures the collapse
of the house built on the sand, has caused many
expositors to overlook the fact that the comparison is
not between the hearer of Christ's words and the
unstable house, but between the former and the man
who builds the latter. A great deal of edifying writ
ing has been spent on the hasty assumption that the
words, " foolish man who built his house," mean no
thing in particular. But in both reports we find this
quite unwarranted. In St. Luke's report the emphasis
is more distinctly on the builder than in St. Matthew's :
" I will show you to whom he is like." Any scrupu
lous investigation into the meaning of the verses will
begin with the exact comparison given us ; and though
the lessons to be drawn from it seem at first to be
somewhat restricted in scope, an attentive considera
tion of the words will yield abundance of matter for
reflection. " He that heareth these words of Mine and doeth
them " — Matt. " Every one that cometh unto Me,
and heareth My words, and doeth them"1 — Luke
1 This use of ipxop,evos appears to be one of the redundances noticed by
Dalman (" The Words of Jesus," p. 26) as a Hebraism and also a Jewish
358

THE HOUSE ON THE SAND 359
vi. 47. Hearing and doing would be a very simple ex
pression if the words applied to definite commands.
But (1) we have seen that it is a very poor conception
of the great Sermon to look on it as synonymous with
a set of commands for ordinary conduct. Rather it
is true to say that the definite commands are couched
in paradoxical language in order that they may not
be literally performed ; (2) It is not certain that the
expression, " these words of Mine," or " My words,"
refers to the Sermon only. Whatever attitude of mind
and will our Lord is enjoining with regard to these
chapters surely is the right attitude with regard to all
His sayings, even such as the discourses in St. John's
Gospel. If there can be a hearing and a doing of
such a saying as that in vi. 23, " If thine eye be evil,
thy whole body shall be full of darkness,'' it is then
quite reasonable to bring all of the teaching under the
same category ; that is, to recognise that it makes a
claim on us and on our conduct, though often pre
sented in the form of a principle, not of a precept.2
Hence we may conclude that Christ means something
of this kind ; that there is such a thing as listening
with satisfaction to the exposition of the principles of
the divine ordering of the world, or to the setting
forth of the mysteries of the Godhead as well as to
exhortations to moral effort, without allowing the
words to influence the life, and that the normal way
in which life is influenced is by the heart being
touched and the thoughts being quickened. Our
lives are governed by ideas ; and Christ's warning is
best attended to by those who allow His uttered
thoughts to sink quietly into their minds, and there
Aramaism. Therefore, though he does not quote this passage, I have for
borne to extract any special meaning from this phrase in St. Luke's report.
3 Other passages in these three chapters of the same sort are v. 3, seqq. ;
vi. 24, 28; vii. II, 16, 18 seqq. ; 21 seqq.

360 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
become germinating ideas which, of course, must
influence outward conduct as time goes on, and
which become stronger the more they are translated
into outward conduct.
On the other hand, the expression "heareth and
doeth not " reminds us of a remarkable characteristic
of mankind. It is not very strange that people should
refuse to translate ideas, which lead to moral effort,
into action, but it is strange that they should find
satisfaction in listening to the exposition of those very
ideas the importance of which consists in their bear
ing on life and conduct ; and which, nevertheless,
they have not the faintest intention of carrying out
into practice. And still stranger is it when, as in the
case of Herod Antipas and St. John the Baptist, the
teaching which is sought after consists in terrible de
nunciation of the listener's life and practice. And if
there is some weird instinct in the human heart which
allows of this, there is no wonder that the exquisite
beauty of our Lord's teaching should be attractive
even to those who from the first were utterly unable
or unwilling to rise to the moral effort enjoined upon
them, or even to the intellectual effort demanded by
this setting forth of God's dealings with mankind.
But the solemn words we are considering point to
yet another class of listener. There must have been
many among the multitudes in Galilee, as there are in
our churches to-day, who could not be said to be
unable or unwilling to translate the teaching into
practical life, but rather received the word with glad
ness, and with the fullest intention of keeping it, only
fell victims again and again to the law of reaction :
" when the glow of early thought declines in feeling's
dull decay," And to this class of men Christ ad
dresses this particularly solemn warning, on the
ground that there is no failure of religious and moral

THE HOUSE ON THE SAND 361
life more pitiable and more mischievous than that of
the religious lives which come to nothing ; not only the
Pharisaic life which is selfish, but, as here, the hfe full
of high and holy resolutions constantly renewed by
fresh attention to the divine precepts, but constantly
lapsing back into effete ineffectiveness and spiritless
misgiving ; the result probably of the very warmth of
the emotional glow into which the heart is repeatedly
transported at the hearing of the well-known divine
commands. But in saying there is no failure more pitiable, we
must not forget that there are more than two classes
to be considered. Something is said about the hearers
who are also doers, something also about the hearers
who are not also doers ; but about those who are
neither hearers nor doers, not a word. We are re
minded of the solemn and impressive characteristic
of Christ's delineation of the moral and spiritual con
dition of men, that when we should expect some
notice of the class which to us is the most puzzling of
all — the class of deliberately hostile, the minds utterly
impervious to any form of Christian truth, the stony
hearted lovers of evil — He passes them over without
a word. General Gordon said that there must have
been many things which Christ saw on earth, and was
silent. His treatment of the Sadducees as compared
with the Pharisees is an illustration ; so little is said,
and that little so free from denunciation. And again
we compare the words spoken to the penitent robber
with the absolute silence observed towards his com
panion. Now and again, of course, there comes
a saying of terrific import, but too obscure to allow
of any clear-cut doctrine to be reared upon it in
regard to the destiny of the wicked, though unquestion
ably all such words should be kept in our minds as a
soul-stirring corrective of levity, mental indolence, and

362 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
easy theories. But, on the whole, the silence is perhaps
more awe-inspiring still, and indicates, as only silence
can, mastery of the situation, and grasp of hidden con
ditions of the great problems of life and destiny. We
have, in short, in this passage a parallel to the omis
sion in the parable of the Sower, where nothing is
said about the hearts of those who refuse to allow the
seed to fall on them at all, indicating that the Saviour
evidently thought it necessary to devote His most
vivid warnings, not to the obdurately hostile, but to
those who imagine they belong to Him.
So much for the idea of hearing and doing. We,
now have to examine the terms of the comparison,
and we recur to the fact noticed at first that the two
classes among the listeners to Christ are compared,
not to a house well or wrongly built, but to the
builders. Therefore the first question which ought to
be faced at this point should run as follows : Now
that we have determined to some degree the kind of
character belonging to the doers and the non-doers
among these listeners, what are the characteristics of
the wise and foolish builders to whom they are re
spectively compared ? We have no right at present
to say that the doer of Christ's teaching is a stable
man, since he is not compared to the house on the
rock. But we may say that he is a man willing to
take trouble and to look forward. If we contrast the
wise with the foolish builder, we can call up a pic
ture of two men, one of whom is anxious to reach
a definite visible result speedily and with the least
possible expenditure of time, money, and trouble.
The other, less anxious about the ease and rapidity
with which the result can be accomplished, realises
that the main object of the work he has undertaken
is that it shall endure ; and, regardless of the fact that
with far less expenditure of resources he might achieve

THE HOUSE ON THE SAND 363
something which would present quite as imposing an
appearance, and under favourable conditions prove
no less useful for the object in view, he spares no
effort which could ensure that his work should issue
in something stable, no matter how serious the stress
to which it will be exposed. He gives himself trouble,
which for a long time seems quite fruitless, digging
and piling bricks, and compacting laborious founda
tions below the surface of the ground. And all this
he knows to be worth while, simply because in the
future there is one thing certain — storms will come,
with floods and rain ; and to provide against them
means prolonged and unpretentious toil, which to
builders of different characters will seem superfluous,
a throwing away of time, money, and trouble.
The character of the foolish builder, on the other
hand, is indicated, first, by his refusal to take trouble ;
but this clearly depends on his incapacity to realise
his future, though there is nothing in it which can be
called mysterious or even uncertain. He is not like
an ancient king who hesitates as to the meaning of
an oracle, or, like one of the Trojan princes, divinely
debarred from understanding the drift of Cassandra's
prophecies. That in the future, against which it be
hoves him to take precautions, to plan and to toil, is
simply a matter of ordinary observation and frequent
occurrence. Many travellers have witnessed the
phenomenon of the storm and the flood ; hence we
may conclude that the builder in question knew what
the future would bring, but could not realise it. He
was unable to bring it into his present with sufficient
vividness to make it overcome his inclination to take
things easily, to choose short cuts, and make a fair
show for a time with labour which has cost as little
as possible. But we must carefully distinguish this,
the fruit of his character, from the character itself,

364 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
which has as its root defect this common proof of
childishness, a feeble power of forecast, and a slavery
to the inclinations of the moment. And the issue is
conduct of almost unspeakable folly. It is not only
that he makes inevitable the destruction of property
and the waste of much time, money, and trouble, but
the building which is thus doomed is the one in which
he lives, so that with his property his own life is de
stroyed. It is difficult to imagine a more vivid picture
of the madness of allowing the present to dominate
the future.
It may be objected that, when we come to the
region of motive and begin to apply the parable, men
who are incapable of realising the future in any spiri
tual sense, i.e. the next world, yet are often found
willing to take all possible trouble for this life, and to
work for mankind, their country, or their school or
their district, with thoroughness and success. True,
but we should note that this may be, and often is, the
outcome of a desire for fame, and this desire is only
another form of subordinating the future to the pre
sent. The more any one's work for others is deep
and patient and unpretentious, the more the worker
has been influenced by his realisation of the future,
while it is doubtful if there is such a thing as ambition,
which is not a present need. Thus as much as pos
sible of the foolish builder's work is above ground and
visible, while the really valuable part of the wise
builder's work is out of sight, and makes no show nor
claim to notice of any kind.
The Saviour's searching insight is shown in His
comparison of this kind of character to that of the
listeners whom He addressed, but who had no care
for the thorough application to their own lives of the
teaching which they had heard. Religion is so inti
mately bound up with the best hopes and desires of

THE HOUSE ON THE SAND 365
the human heart that it is for a large majority of
people quite easy to be interested in it, even if the
interest involves some expenditure of time, money,
and trouble. To indulge this kind of interest gives
the impression of making things safe, and of providing
against the casualties of the future, which every one
agrees to be imminent, just as one motive of the foolish
builder was to secure for himself a protection against
the time to come. But things are not thus made safe ;
the indulging of interest in religion may be a mere
gratification of a present inclination, a childish play
ing with something precious. It is quite possible to
feel this gratification, even when the appeal to which
we listen is addressed straight to the conscience, and
when, if it means anything at all, it is charged with re
proach and conviction of sin ; for, strange to say, the
exercise of the faculty of what we call conscience is
like exercise of any other faculty, if not overdone — it
is accompanied by a sense of pleasure of which we
are conscious, even when this very activity of our
being issues in self-condemnation. In some natures
the working of conscience is pleasurable when it is
directed towards judgment on other people's lives ;
but not unfrequently an individual finds it quite worth
while to turn its solemn searchlight full on his own
life rather than not use it at all. Indeed, the pleasure
would be confessed to be more inward and subtle ;
and it reminds him, too, of the exclusive possession
of a certain knowledge, which seems at the time to
be complete and far more thorough than that pos
sessed by any one else of the same subject, the know
ledge of his own complex character ; so that with all
the self-censure which is involved, this stimulating of
the divine faculty ministers insidiously to self-esteem.
In the main, however, the comparison between the
two individuals rests on the fact that as the foolish

366 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
builder, partly to gratify his inclination, partly to do
as others do, partly again, in the hope of making
things safe, childishly1 refuses to realise the future,
and deals with the house which is to shelter his life from
the whirlwind as he would deal with a toy, so there
are many who, in the attention they pay to religion,
are prone to put on one side the paramountcy of its
claim on the thoughts and actions of daily life, refus
ing to see that, from the fact of trials and judgment to
come, such a claim cannot be resisted without a re
nouncing of all reason and an affronting of adult
man's higher faculties, and that in this case, as in the
other, the peril which has been trifled with is terrific,
and the ignoring of it issues in a complete and piteous
ruin — the ruin not of a fair-seeming fabric made with
hands and by man's device, but of a spiritual being
made in the image of the Most High.
There is a practical corollary to be drawn from
these solemn and awakening words which conclude the
great Sermon. All who are concerned in furthering
the work of the Church, the spreading of the know
ledge of Christ's kingdom, would do well to reflect
on the common tendency to deplore the widespread
want of interest in religion. It is a phenomenon
which many believe to be peculiar to this age, and
it is an evil which is apparently increasing. We feel
that it is a symptom of some dark and mysterious
violation of the scheme of God's creation, a kind of
stealing spiritual torpor to be resisted at all hazards
and by every variety of device. That is our instinctive
feeling, but if we wish to be guided by our Lord's
teaching we shall strive towards a truer perspective
in our view of life's problems. Instead of wringing
1 It is worth noticing that the tendency to childish trifling in a matter
of the utmost seriousness manifested itself among the Jews, especially in
relation to the Baptist. Cf. Luke vii. 32.

THE HOUSE ON THE SAND 367
our hands over the non-churchgoer we shall give
far more consideration than we do to the regular
attendant, whether clerical or lay. Beyond all
question the emphasis in Christ's most impressive
warnings is directed not to the stony-hearted or the
callous, but to the responsive, the interested, the
sympathetic votary of religion. And if the efforts of
Christian ministers could be powerful enough to
cleanse the Church from all hearing without doing,
then we may well believe that the hardest hearts
would be touched and the most sluggish natures
quickened first into wonder, then into shame, then
into adoration and praise. But wholly apart from
all question of results, the proportionate distribution
of Christ's preaching to the two classes, the open
antagonists, and the self-deceiving adherents, should
give us food for the deepest meditation and quiet
our hearts with the sober influence of humility and
fear.

XXXII
COROLLARY ON THE MEANING OF
CHRISTIAN
The starting point of these studies was the spontane
ous unstinted admiration professed far and wide for
the Sermon on the Mount ; and on the assumption
that whether consciously or not this admiration must
depend on the main idea of the Sermon, there fol
lowed an inquiry as to what the main idea is ; and
it was found to be the Fatherhood of God, taught by
reference to certain principles of ordinary life and
questions of conduct. The inference so far is that
man instinctively recognises the truth of this teaching :
in other words, that the doctrine of God being the
Author and Nourisher and Guide of human life is
profoundly consonant to man's inmost convictions.
This inference may be tested by comparison between
Christ's life and His teaching. That is to say, if there
is one thing which has evoked as much admiration
from thoughtful men as Christ's teaching it is the life
that He led ; and so we are moved to ask the question
whether there is observable in His life the same pro
minence of the idea of God's Fatherhood as is given
in His teaching. And the answer must be in the
affirmative.1 It is indeed a commonplace that the life
1 Among other passages cf. Luke ii. 49 ; Matt. iv. 4 ; Luke vi. 12 ; ix.
35 ; xi. 21 ; Matt. xxvi. 53 ; John ii. 16 ; v. 17 ; vii. 16 ; viii. 38 ; ix. 4 ;
a. 15, 32 ; xi. 41 ; xii. 27, 28 ; xx. 21 ; Luke xxiii. 46.
368

THE MEANING OF CHRISTIAN 369
He lived was the teaching illustrated in conduct, and
that the character was a supreme and perfect embodi
ment of the principles of the teaching. Else the
Founder of the Christian Religion would have been
exposed to a certain suspicion of being a teacher
who did not practise, the least hint of which would
have been fatal to the influence either of the precepts
or the example.
In the light then of this fact that the main principle
both of Christ's teaching and His action was that
of the Fatherhood of God, we may realise not only
the poverty but the falseness of the prevailing popular
conception of Christianity. In a thousand ways this
conception is enunciated to the effect that to be a
Christian is to imitate the conduct of Christ : that
Christ's revelation to mankind was a revelation of
conduct : of a supremely beautiful example which
only needs to be set before unenlightened minds to
become at once an inspiration and a hope, especially
if it be supported by virtuous behaviour on the part
of those who teach it. This is the central affirmation
of modern popular Christianity, but to it are added
certain denials supposed to be corollaries from it.
It is constantly said that to teach children anything
more than this imitation of Christ's example is to
teach them useless and unprovable " dogma " ; or
else a belief in some deeper principle of religion is
dubbed as mysticism, unsuited to the "plain man"
of to-day. And in conduct we find as a fact that this
view of Christianity very often involves the discon
tinuance of prayer, " conduct " being taken more and
more to mean morality in relation to our fellow-men.
Or if men retain at all the habit of prayer, it is merely
as a survival of the days of childhood, not to be
thought of as rational, but as a kind of desirable
accessory to the real business of life, useful for some
2 A

370 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
kinds of temperament. Hence in the general adop
tion of the definition that religion is morality tinged
with emotion, it has not only come to be felt that
it matters little what the emotion is about, but even
less whether it is there at all, so long as the morality
is preserved ; in other words, that if life is lived
without prayer no great loss results.
Now among many remarks that might be made on
this position, the most obvious is that to imitate
Christ is to imitate One who first and foremost was
religious ; that is, whose life was essentially and per
petually a life of prayer, and that it is not worthy
of rational followers of our Master to reckon this
prayerfulness merely as a separable adjunct to a life
of lofty morality. But we may go further, and say
that just as in His teaching when Christ touches on
questions of ordinary conduct He becomes para
doxical and impossible to obey literally, so in His
conduct He is impossible to imitate, not only because
the records of His career are fragmentary, but because
His actions are not such as can be included in any
possible ethical code. They refuse to be classified
into categories or described according to any system,
and seem almost designed to warn us against imitation
except in the one particular that He spent time in prayer
to His Heavenly Father. If we consider the narrative
of His life on earth and make a clear picture of it
as a whole, a very important part of it is prayer ;
often-repeated, strenuous, self-sacrificing prayer. The
rest consists of records of teaching, miracles, and
such a display of virtues in the endurance of opposi
tion as is universally felt to be supreme and un
approachable in excellence. Rough though such a
classification is, it enables us to see that of all Christ's
activities the only one adapted for imitation is prayer.
Imitation of the others is open to the censure ex-

THE MEANING OF CHRISTIAN 371
pressed by Kant as follows : " In moral action, imita
tion has no place." x
Why then is the imitating of His prayerfulness not
open to the same censure ? Because praying is
properly not so much an activity as a receiving of
divine life and strength : not an expenditure but a
gathering : not a way of influencing others' lives,
but a process whereby one's own life is fed. And
all other activities (as is clearly shown in the story
of Christ's life) are the outcome of this process, so
that to dream of imitating them without beginning
with prayer is sheer folly. Christ's words and actions
were what they were because His praying was so
uninterrupted and so strenuous and faithful ; and
thus they give the impression of being prompted
by some power far above all that is merely human
and earthly, and yet we feel they are in a real sense
part of Himself. There is a striking saying of the
poet Blake, to the effect that Christ's actions were all
impulse ; that is to say, they were always unexpected
and the effect of an infinite inspiration, and we feel
that something equally "rich and strange " would have
continued to be manifested had the life on earth been
prolonged. But in proportion as His conduct could
be so characterised by a man of genius, the less adapted
it was to be an example of behaviour to ordinary men
of weak wills and temperaments dulled by custom.
But even such men can imitate the prayerfulness of
Christ. And not only is it to be imitated, but it may
be taken as explaining to some extent the utter mystery
of such a character appearing in the history of mankind.
In short, the more we consider the career of Christ,
the more inevitably necessary to it does the intercourse
with God become. With it, the character, though
1 " The Critical Philosophy of Kant," E. Caird, vol. ii. p. 278.

372 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT
adorable in its spotless excellence, becomes to some
extent intelligible. Without it we have no clue, no
sort of explanation of how Christ was what He was.
When we contemplate the story as a whole we feel
that communion with God was to Him just as inevit
able a part of His experience as suffering. He was
a Man of prayer no less than a Man of sorrows. And
when He said to the two disciples : " Ought not Christ
to have suffered these things ? " (Luke xxiv. 26), the
words might as truly have been : " Ought not Christ
to have prayed thus ? " It is plain to us that the first
Jewish converts were to be blamed, because they found
the sufferings of Christ a staggering fact, difficult to
harmonise with their new belief in Him. It is worth
considering whether we do not fall into a similar but
far less excusable error when we fancy that the other
great ingredient of His life can be safely excluded by
any one who wishes to follow His example. In theory,
and to some extent in practice, Englishmen admit the
suffering, but are prone to banish tacitly the element
of prayer ; and yet all the time a life of virtuous en
deavour, from which this element of constant personal
communion with God is excluded, may be anything
else, but cannot be an fmitatio Christi. It is not a
following of His example, but a scorning of it.
It may of course be said that to insist on such
a consideration as this is merely to add one more
to the "unhappy divisions" by which good people
are sundered from each other : since it suggests that
the broad title Christian can hardly be borne equally
by those who follow Christ's example in respect of
His intercourse with God, and by those whose imi
tation of Him is confined to matters of conduct.
Among these latter are men of splendid integrity,
zeal, and simple-mindedness : and the tendency of
our time to broaden the meaning of the word

THE MEANING OF CHRISTIAN 373
Christian surely is wholesome, and its opposite
mere sectarianism.
Nevertheless if the distinction be true, harm will
result from ignoring it. To imitate Christ is to speak
the truth at the risk of division. Much of the Sermon
on the Mount is a warning against a misuse of the
moral instinct : and the chief lesson taught us by
Christ's example is not that we can subsist on that
instinct alone, but that our hope lies in discerning
the purpose for which that instinct has been given
us : viz. to lift us through failures from a life of
wilful activity to a life of receiving as children from
God what we most deeply need.

APPENDIX

THE MEANING OF "HYPOCRITE"
No one who professes to be in any sense a follower
of Jesus Christ, or even an admirer of His teaching,
can absolve himself from the duty of trying to under
stand this word. The tremendously severe tone in
which Christ habitually spoke of hypocrites, the
startling arid novel sense which He gave to the
word, and which will affect its use for all time, these
are sufficient reasons by themselves. But more im
portant is the great probability that the kind of
character denoted by the word is far from being an
isolated phenomenon, noticed in Palestine 1900 years
ago, but is rather a very common form of human
infirmity ; common because it is exceedingly insidious
and difficult to detect, but deadly beyond all others.
One text is enough to show the hght in which Christ
regarded hypocrites, Matt. xxiv. 51: "He shall cut
him asunder, and appoint his portion with the hypo
crites." Those words are spoken of the servant who,
at the last day, shall be found by " his lord " grossly
misusing his position of trust ; and clearly the hypo
crites are here spoken of as the typical outcasts from
the Kingdom. Their " portion " is spoken of as the
portion of those who are more utterly condemned
than any. How, then, if hypocrisy be a common
failing of us all ?
The word, as ordinarily used now, denotes a person

APPENDIX 375
who pretends to be something which he is not for the
sake of gaining his own ends. Dr. Murray's definition
is as follows : — " One who falsely professes to be
virtuously or religiously inclined : one who pretends
to have feelings or beliefs of a higher order than his
real ones ; hence, generally, a dissembler, pretender."
It will be found that the word will bear this meaning,
not inappropriately, in the majority of the passages in
which it occurs, but that in others a very different
signification belongs to it, which it is far from easy to
connect with the first. It will be remembered that
the searching and most powerful analysis of hypocrisy
contained in the second of Mozley's University Ser
mons deals with the Scriptural presentation of the
hypocrite in the majority of the passages about to
be cited, but passes over the sense of the remaining
passages, or rather does not explicitly give the clue
of their connexion with the more numerous uses of
the word.
The substantive viroicpto-is is used six times in the
New Testament : Matt, xxiii. 28 ; Mark xii. 15 ; Luke
xii. 1 ; Gal. ii. 13 ; 1 Tim. iv. 2 ; 1 Peter ii. 1. In the
first five of these passages the ordinary interpretation
satisfies the context — pretence, dissembling, want of
sincerity ; meanings drawn directly from the idea of
viroicpiveo-dai, to act a part. 1 Peter ii. 1 is quite un
certain. The only time the simple verb is used it
means to pretend (Luke xx. 20). The noun viro/cpiTrj?
is used thirteen times in Matthew (omitting with R.V.
xvi. 3 and xxiii. 14), and in the following passages the
ordinary interpretation is apparently adequate, though,
of course, a deeper and wider meaning may be im
plied : vi. 2, 6, 16 ; xxii. 18 ; xxiii. 25, 27 ; xxiv. 51 (in this
last there is no description given). In Mark the word
is used only once (par. to Matt. xv. 7), the meaning of
"dissemblers" being included, but certainly not to the

376 APPENDIX
exclusion of a deeper sense, vii. 6. In St. Luke thrice
(omitting xi. 44, and including parallels). The only
new passages are xii. 56 and xiii. 15, in both of which
the ordinary interpretation is abandoned. Therefore,
in the Gospels, excepting Matthew, there are only
three passages where the word occurs.
Now in the following verses there would seem to be
no meaning of pretence or wilful deception of others :
Matthew vii. 5; xxiii. 13, 15, 23, 29; Luke xiii. 15.
The word denotes a person with an utterly wrong-
headed view of moral questions, both in their relation
to God and to his fellow-men, shown in a preposter
ous estimate of certain conventional actions over love
and duty. Take the first of these : "Thou hypocrite,
cast out first the beam out of thine own eye, and then
shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy
brother's eye." We have to ask : What is the prominent
quality of the man whose conduct is thus described ?
Surely the answer is : Blindness about himself. It
is tempting to add that it is combined with a certain
keenness of vision towards others ; but that is not
warranted, since in the parable it is natural to suppose
that he who was suffering from the mote drew atten
tion to it, complaining of the pain. A mote in the eye
is not first perceived by some quick-sighted friend of
the sufferer, but by the sufferer himself. But the
friend is described as behaving in a fashion showing
almost incredible ignorance about himself ; and that
is again, in this case, ignorance about the principal
determining fact with regard to the matter in hand.
In other words, we find a person offering to do an
operation which, of all others, requires delicacy and
precision of sight. But our Lord, in describing this
person, lays on the colours till the picture is vivid
almost to the verge of the grotesque, in order to
emphasise this leading fact about him, viz. his inca-

APPENDIX 377
pacity to see clearly. It is a sound principle, in in
terpreting the parabolic utterances of One who showed
an unexampled mastery over natural similitudes, that
whenever a comparison violates the probabilities of
ordinary life to a decisive and startling degree, it must
be because the Speaker desired to bring out with the
utmost clearness the spiritual truth which is conveyed
by the figure employed. Now nowhere in the whole
range of our Lord's parables is there any figure so
utterly improbable as that of this person going about
with a beam in his eye. This, however, is not an
artistic blemish in the picture ; it is a merit, because
it makes it difficult for us not to infer that a man in
such a plight, and ignorant that he is in such a plight,
is drawn for us as a type of those who are deceived
about their own moral condition. This man, in mak
ing the offer, says plainly that he considers himself
to possess a sharp and discriminating vision. The
picture shows that this idea is almost inconceivably
contrary to the facts.
The next passage to be considered is Matt.
xxiii. 13 : " But woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees,
hypocrites ! because ye shut the kingdom of heaven
against men : for ye enter not in yourselves, neither
suffer ye them that are entering in to enter." This
saying is difficult to handle as explanatory of the word
hypocrite, because of its allusive character. We are
not told here in what way specially the Pharisees, re
fusing to enter the kingdom, barred others from it ;
we only note at starting that there is no connexion,
apparently, with the idea of dissimulation. But it
plainly has to do with moral blindness, in that what
ever be the facts referred to in the saying, it is obvious
that the intention of the words is to open the eyes of
these unhappy men to the desperate plight in which
they were. They, the religious leaders of the Jews,

378 APPENDIX
were like men standing outside the portals of the
Great King's palace, but imagining themselves to be
inside, and barring out those who were actually and
with longing desire entering in, and all the time
imagining that they were helping them in. There is
no need to speculate yet as to the exact behaviour
which brought about such an appalling result. Christ
would never have spoken such words to men who
knew or even faintly guessed the truth ; indeed, it is
hardly conceivable that men held to be religious
could knowingly place themselves outside the king
dom of bliss, of godliness, and true virtue. So the
words imply again that the leading characteristic of
these Pharisees was ignorance as to their real position
in relation to the greatest things of life.
Matt, xxiii. 15 : " Ye compass sea and land to
make one proselyte, and when he is become so, ye
make him twofold more a child of hell than your
selves." The picture is of sustained effort and its
result. If people make prolonged effort for an ad
mirable object we admire them ; but when the object
is known to be bad we are indignant ; and if the object
is very bad and the effort very laborious, the conduct
becomes diabolical. But if the result is thought of as
good and is in reality bad, we make allowances for
them as the victims of a grievous delusion — grievous
in proportion to the greatness of the effort and the
evil of the result. That is the light in which the
Pharisees are regarded here, where they are stigma
tised as hypocrites. The matter alluded to is one of
the greatest in human life — the effect of man's principal
endeavours, energies, undertakings on the welfare of
his fellow-men. We know from other sources that
the Pharisees thought that these endeavours resulted
in good. Christ exposes the truth ; they really re
sulted in uttermost evil. Hence the remarkable thing

APPENDIX 379
about such men was not that they were wicked, but
that they were blind.
It is significant that in the very next verse, as if the
inner meaning of hypocrite were now manifest, Christ
breaks out into the changed form of title, " Ye blind
guides" ; and in ver. 17, "Ye fools and blind."
Matt, xxiii. 23. It is here quite obvious that the
description has no reference to the idea of imposing
on others by clever acting, but to that of an uncon
scious disproportion in the estimate of things worth
doing which has been often emphasised in different
figures. And Christ again points the moral by the
adjective blind, adding the tragic fact that these vic
tims of a terrible hallucination were guides of others.
We cannot be wrong in speaking of this vicious way
of life as unconscious, simply because no one would
act so madly if he knew what he was doing.
Matt, xxiii. 29. " Ye build the sepulchres of the
prophets," &c. Again a most unsparing indictment
of the Pharisaic conduct just in the respect where it
was thought by themselves and others to be most
admirable, not only in itself, but by contrast ; and
by contrast not with ignorant Gentiles, but with their
own Jewish forefathers. " They slew them ; we
honour their memory, sparing no effort to do it
worthily." To any keen-sighted, true-hearted man
such a proceeding would have suggested sad reflec
tions ; but to make the position perfectly plain our
Lord quotes the words of the Pharisees themselves
which probably He had heard uttered : " If we had
been in the days of our fathers, we should not have
been partakers with them in the blood of the pro
phets." That is to say, "We recognise that that
violence towards such good men was quite wrong.
Our forefathers sinned ; and, though they may have
had provocation, and there was much in the circum-

380 APPENDIX
stances of their lives to deceive them, yet we feel sure
that had we lived then we should have had too much
discernment to act in the same way." Now this kind
of talk exposes vividly the disease of mind under which
the speakers were labouring ; they attributed to them
selves a specially keen moral sense in regard to the
treatment of God's messengers, just at a time when
they were plotting the death of the greatest of those
messengers. This conduct may be variously de
scribed ; but its main characteristic is that it shows
utter moral blindness with regard to self. The Phari
sees persuaded themselves that they were prophetic
persons, i.e. such as would naturally understand and
appreciate a prophet if he appeared. And with this
feeling they set themselves to play the part which
was congruous to it ; they took much trouble to build
the prophets' tombs. So far Christ describes the
outward presentation of the character. But under
neath this was the malignant and hopeless misunder
standing of the greatest of all prophets which was
even then urging on the Pharisees to His murder.
This underlying fact is not placed in bold contrast to
the other, as is generally the case ; but it is hinted at
in the form of an imperative, " Fill ye up, then, the
measure of your fathers." Now had the Pharisees
been asked if they hated Christ or not, probably some
of them would have answered in the affirmative.
Their hypocrisy did not consist simply in ignorance
of the underlying corruption, but in the relation of
it to the outward activity on which they prided them
selves and were belauded by others ; and this relation,
briefly speaking, is that the outward conduct served
to divert attention from the inward disease, and made
it easy for the individual to remain blind as to his
own condition. And more than this, the outward
conduct testifies to the true principle according to

APPENDIX 381
which the man's whole self is supposed to be living ;
while, in fact, it is only in matters entirely insignificant
that the principle is obeyed, and then only by a kind
of false external self. The real self is a prey to un
suspected corruption, that is, to all kinds of evil
influences dragging it in a direction clean contrary
to that which was professed to be right and true.
No more appalling instance of a deep disharmony in
man's nature could be given than that of these un
happy men filled with a burning hatred of all that
was genuine and great in the prophetical witness, and
yet painfully trying to prove to themselves and their
contemporaries that they honoured and understood
them. With their contemporaries their success was
apparently considerable ; and this is the pitiful fact
in their condition — the very thoroughness with which
they pursued the good object falsely, served to blind
them to the facts of their real selves.
" Wherefore ye witness to yourselves that ye are
sons of them that slew the prophets." This saying
may be explained in more than one way. It may be
simply the ironical verdict on their actions in building
the tombs ; " the fathers murdered and the sons carry
out the burial ; this is quite fitting." In this case the
wo-T6 will mean " and so," i.e. " this being your
state of mind ye show by your actions that ye are
sons. . . .'' But a more satisfactory interpretation
would be " and so, i.e. by speaking thus, ye show that
ye are sons. . . ." In other words, by claiming for
themselves a certain superiority to their forefathers,
the Jews showed that they inherited the same spirit
of blind hostility to goodness. That is to say, the
men who were always pluming themselves on virtues
they did not possess, would in any age burn with
hatred towards a real prophet ; and though manners
may soften and change, the issue of hatred sooner or

382 APPENDIX
later will be murder. The hypocrite's grand char
acteristic was an unruffled self-satisfaction, though
"rank corruption" was "mining all within." Very thin
though the external shell was, it completely concealed
from him the awful condition of his real self. But the
very essence of a Jewish prophet's task was to pierce
the husk of conventional conduct and expose the
falseness, hollowness, and cruelty of the heart.
There, then, we have the preliminary conditions for
a tragedy. Given two men, A who could speak of
himself according to the words of v. 30, B unable to
keep silence in presence of iniquity, and the murder of
B by A merely depends on the outward opportunity.
Christ meant, " In so speaking ye reveal the spirit of
those who are too self-complacent to brook reproof.
That is the spirit which, when a prophet confronts it,
will be satisfied with nothing short of his murder. It
always has been so. The same law will be exemplified
in your case, since ye show the same temper as your
fathers." Hence this most scathing description adds to our
conception of the hypocrite. Not only is he ignorant
of his own condition, but if his ignorance is disturbed,
he is stirred to a frenzy of wrath. Leave him in his
disease of blindness and you may live at peace with
him ; but try to heal him and he will kill you.
Luke xiii. 15. "Ye hypocrites, doth not each one of
you on the Sabbath loose his ox or his ass from the
stall, and lead him away to a watering ? And ought
not this woman, being a daughter of Abraham, whom
Satan had bound, lo ! these eighteen years, to have
been loosed from this bond on the day of the
Sabbath ? "
What was wrong with men whose conduct is here
denounced ? They had lost all sense of proportion
in morals, all ability to see straight and come to a

APPENDIX 383
sensible decision, if their own interests were in any
way concerned. It is tempting to explain the use of
"hypocrite " here as if the ruler of the Synagogue and
those whom he represented were pretending a zeal
for the law, but in reality were actuated solely by
jealousy of Christ ; and in support of this it is pointed
out that the rebuke addressed to the people was un
warranted.1 There is no evidence that the law was
being broken. But, first, this is impossible to prove.
Among the swarm of rabbinical regulations on this
subject it is probable there was one which Christ
was, perhaps purposely, violating ; at any rate, the
official may have thought so. Secondly, our Lord
leaves this question on one side, and we are con*
cerned not with the general dissimulation or trickery
of the man, but with that aspect of it which is here
denounced and which is directly stigmatised as
hypocrisy ; and here we find no dissimulation, but
rather a shocking perverseness and stupidity which
was not only inconsistent but downright cruel. If
we fix our attention on the contrasted actions spoken
of by Christ our verdict must be that the conduct
reveals a hopelessly distorted view of life and duty,
a contradiction of admitted principles which, as else
where, involved a violation of the law of love. Thirdly,
the use of the plural hypocrites in v. 15 debars us
from attaching to the word any such meaning as is
drawn exclusively from the conduct of this particular
official. Something, doubtless, in that conduct re
minded Christ that the man was exhibiting the spirit
of the " actor," that he was one of the class ; but
in order to determine what it was which gave this
reminder we must be guided entirely by Christ's
denunciation, which is the denunciation of a class,
and is restricted in its scope to a particular kind
1 Vide Plummer in loc. Cyril et at. in Catena Aurea.

384 APPENDIX
of depraved moral estimate, terribly mischievous in
deed, but free from any thought of deceiving others ;
and the words exclude all question as to a violation of
the law of the Sabbath.
But it is time to remark that in this passage and in
several others an important clue to the interpretation
of the hypocrite is offered. Two sets of actions are
mentioned by way of contrast neither of which, taken
singly, would be called hypocrisy, though one of them is
found to be bad in itself- — the hindering of the healing
of the woman. So in Luke xii. 56 what makes the
Scribes and Pharisees deserve the name of hypocrite
is not that they interpreted accurately the signs of
the weather, which is quite innocent conduct, nor that
they failed to read the meaning of contemporary
history, though that is a most serious defect, but that
the defect was combined with the activity and in a
way covered by it (cf. Luke xii. 2) so as to make the
chance of detection smaller. This is a point to be
noticed in several of the pictures of the hypocrite
which Christ has drawn for us. " Ye tithe mint, &c.
. . . and have left undone. . . ." And in v. 25 of
the same chapter the cleansing of the outside of the
cup and platter, innocent in itself, if it is truly to
denote hypocrisy must be a concomitant of the great
defect that the men were full of ^corruption within,
which again by itself might have been described as
depravity or villainy, but not as hypocrisy.
Now it is not unfrequently taken for granted that
the hypocrites gave their energies to these outward
things merely because they liked the praise of men
which accompanied them. It is not difficult, however,
to exaggerate the extent to which this motive enters
into the meaning of the word hypocrisy. Just as
" pretence " is a common but not necessary ingredient
in hypocrisy, so the deliberately acting in order to be

APPENDIX 385
praised will be noticed in some of the Gospel in
stances, but not in all. If it were the central secret
of hypocrisy, then the quality could be exposed and
denounced by one set of actions being chosen, with
out any contrast being drawn, as it nearly always is,
by Christ. But if we try to do this we pass outside
all the associations of the word. Suppose a frankly
ambitious man who makes no concealment of his
aiming at a big reputation, and only does not habitu
ally proclaim it because it would be bad manners to
do so ; no one would call him a hypocrite. Yet he
would be concerned perpetually with the effect of
his actions on men's estimate, though he possibly
might be clever enough to perceive that to win a
name it is often advisable to flout convention to a
certain extent. The character would, it is true, be
the reverse of admirable; we should reckon it as
coarse and mundane the more clearly its true bias
were discerned, and, as has often been remarked, if
the quest for fame fails it wins contempt. But
suppose it does not fail ; suppose a strong able
man whose efforts, thoroughly understood by every
body, to make himself a name have taken the form
of eminent and undeniable public services, men with
hold their scorn and, somewhat reluctantly, give their
tribute of admiration. It is felt that there is a vast
defect in his whole scheme of life and conduct, but
it is not hypocrisy, because it is free from deep
inconsistency, i.e. the profession of one set of prin
ciples while acting so as to reveal belief in another.
It will be found that this is never the case with the
Gospel instances of hypocrisy.
Again, however, it is easy to form an erroneous
idea of the dishonesty of the hypocrite's life. Even
if we take a prominent instance, such as the picture
drawn in Mark xii. 40, " they which devour widows'
2 B

386 APPENDIX
houses and for a pretence (irpotpdcrei,) make long
prayers," we are not to infer that the prayers were
necessarily sham. The Pharisee may have intently
fixed his thoughts and done his best to pray sincerely,
and so far his effort may have been honest and
diligent, just as in the cleaning of the outside of
the cup and platter. But the hypocrisy of the
conduct lies in the relation of this action to the
contrasted fact, the habitual injustice shown towards
the weak, the deep inconsistency of life being com
pletely concealed from the man himself. In short,
irpQ<pd<ret-, means the speaking or acting (properly
the former) so that something else which is going
on may be covered up and attention distracted from
its true meaning. And a connexion between this
and the desire for men's praise is easily established.
If the outward and innocent set of actions provoked
admiration from contemporaries, then their particular
selection would be facilitated, and the requisite
stimulus provided for their continuance, which not
unfrequently must have cost a great deal of trouble
and self-denial (Matt, xxiii. 13, 23, 29 ; Mark xii. 40 ;
Luke xviii. 12). Their primary object, though this
was often quite unconsciously pursued, was to
enable the unhappy man to abide in ignorance of
the guiltiness and immorality of a large department
of his life.
We are now in a position to bring into one focus
the apparently divergent indications afforded by the
vivid pictures of Matt. vi. 2 (praying in public), 6, 16 ;
vii. 5 (the mote and the beam) ; xxii. 18 (the tribute
money) ; Luke xii. 56 (signs of the weather and signs
of the times) ; xiii. 15 (the healing of the woman in
the synagogue). In each case the true condition
of the hypocrite is pourtrayed as deeply, corrupt
in some vital and central department of human life

APPENDIX 387
and conduct ; and apparently the hypocrite is totally
ignorant of this fact. His ignorance must be due,
first, to a native disinclination to examine himself
and his motives ; secondly, to the readiness with
which he gives himself to some external activity
which disguises the true state of the case riot
primarily from others so much as from himself ;
this readiness being in some cases quickened by
the approval of his contemporaries. Sometimes the
word is used to express this kind of concealment of
the truth by some outward conduct when the trickery
is conscious (Matt. xxii. 18). But ordinarily it is
implied that the hypocrite has contrived so to fix
his attention on a portion of his life and practice,
which for some reason or other it pleases him to
contemplate, that in relation to the deeper facts of
his own character he has become totally blind.
Having thus determined the central conception of
the word, we may notice how far the texts mentioned
above as apparently illustrating the ordinary modern
meaning of dissembler or deceiver of others, conflict
with the notion yielded by the verses just examined.
Evidently, we have in Matt. vi. 2, 6, 16, an identical use
of the word — the coarse advertisement of the outward
activity, the context not requiring here the contrast of
the inward disease. The advertisement, though not an
essential of hypocrisy, is a likely concomitant of the
activity presented to man's view. For if it is success
ful, as it generally is for a time, in attracting applause,
it assists the effort necessary td continue the external
activity, which otherwise might soon pall, and the
reward once secured prevents the hypocrite from
asking himself if the trouble is worth while. But
supposing an individual so absorbed in some outward
activity as to be blinded to his iriward violation of
moral ; principle, and even if there be no striving

388 APPENDIX
after applause, there is hypocrisy in the Gospel sense ;
the man's view of life is upside down, but he does
not know it. Those who trumpet their own per
formances make their delusion more hopeless by
adding to it an element of moral intoxication ; but
sometimes the delusion is complete though the tem
perament be sober. The Pharisee in the parable
(Luke xviii. ii) is a quiet man enough, nor does he
puff himself to gain men's praise ; what is distinctive
about him is the success with which his insignificant
outward activities have concealed from him the true
horror of his unloving heart. Thus in these three
texts the vulgar ostentation is an adventitious detail,
very common, but not essential to hypocrisy. We
notice, too, that Christ when giving these three pictures
has no occasion to expose the secret inconsistency of
the character, and so only one side of the hypocrite's life
is brought into view ; there is no contrast. And, as
before, we find that there is no designed deception of
others or dissembling hinted at.
Matt. xxii. 18. The Tribute- Money. This is an
extremely simple instance of dissimulation. Again
there is the contrast between the inward and the
outward ; the outward action which was intended to
have a certain appearance, and the inward design
which was quite different from what was implied.
Here and here only the deception of others is
certainly intentional. Matt, xxiii. 25 and 27, though
ordinarily taken as mere pictures of deliberate deceit,
are plainly consistent with the fundamental meaning
of the word here given. In short, they may be
regarded as the clearest statement of the essence of
the hypocritical character, that element which is
always present ; the innocent or praiseworthy out
ward activity which serves to conceal the inward
disease, so that the sufferer is indeed blind, v. 26.

APPENDIX 389
There is thus no conflict of meaning between these
texts and those first considered. In them all the
idea of a contrast between the inward and the out
ward is either expressed or vividly implied ; while the
two ideas of aiming at men's praise and of consciously
taking in people are sometimes expressed as if they
were essential, but ordinarily not. We find that
as regards the noun viroKpiavs the context usually
affords no clue (Matt, xxiii. 28 ; Mark xii. 15). But
Luke xii. 1 is an exception. Directly after the
warning against "the leaven of the Pharisees which
is hypocrisy," Christ gives as His reason for the
saying, the principle that "there is nothing covered
that shall not be revealed," implying distinctly that
the essence of hypocrisy is a covering up of some
thing ; and, further, that the covering shall ultimately
prove a failure. The English word as ordinarily used
conveys more sense of deliberate and successful
deception of others. The Gospel idea of hypocrite
is more that of a victim of his own desperate blind
ness as to the meaning of a principle, and emphasises
less the associations of knavery than those of
stupidity. The substantive appears in St. Paul's
narrative to the Galatians of the inconsistency of
Peter and Barnabas in the well-known episode at
Antioch, where the word is translated by the Revisers
" dissimulation " ; and hence it approaches in mean
ing to that of hypocrite in the story of the Tribute-
Money, Matt. xxii. 18 ; though it is far from clear
that St. Peter's conduct showed a wilful desire to
deceive the Judaisers. It was probably the result
of moral timidity, which frequently blurs the vision,
as to the bearing of a principle. Nothing very
definite can be inferred from the remaining uses,
1 Tim. iv. 2, 1 Peter ii. 1.
A very interesting and difficult question remains :

390 APPENDIX
What is the connexion between this state of char
acter and the word " actor," viroKpirr)? ? First, it
may be doubted whether the Aramaic original used
by our Lord covered the same associations as
viroKpiTrj<i ; but it could hardly be doubted that the
idea of acting a part must have been conveyed. We
may conjecture that Christ made it an object to
burn the lesson deep into His hearers' minds, and that
for this purpose a word was chosen more for its
startling novelty than for its psychological accuracy ;
and therefore it would probably be needless to probe
very deeply into the question. There is, however, a
profound connexion between the idea of acting and
that of insincerity in the sense of the opposite of the
single-heartedness on which the sixth Beatitude was
pronounced ; and it is easy to see that insincerity in
the broadest sense of the word was the keynote of
the hypocrite's character. He was dishonest with
himself, first of all, because he never looked squarely
into his own mind and conscience and motives. He
was untrue to himself in that his real self was not
the moving influence in his ordinary daily life ;
simply because that self, though he knew it not, was
not presentable to mankind, and so he eagerly wove,
as it were, a texture of external behaviour on which
he fixed his own attention, and generally succeeded
in fixing the attention of others. Used in a popular
sense the word " acting " gives a fair picture of this
state of things. The actor and the hypocrite, in the
Scriptural sense, both present to onlookers a person
which is not really their own. Each does his best to
be some one else.
Thus interpreted, the hypocritical or Pharisaic
character is seen to be not local or confined to one
century of human history, but common in every age
and country. The earliest and deepest symptoms of

APPENDIX 391
it are, first, a sensitiveness to being found fault with ;
this generally denoting that the weak spot which is
touched with some want of tenderness, perhaps, by
a neighbour, has not previously been examined by the
man himself. But if he has been severe to his own
sins, the severity of others is a light matter, and is
often found to ignore the worst faults and fasten on
secondary and less vital offences. St. Paul's precept :
" Work out your own salvation with fear and trem
bling," is a- prescription against incipient Pharisaism.
Again, wherever there is what we call hollowness of
character, the leaven of hypocrisy is at work ; for the
essential idea of hollowness is not only an empty
inside (or worse than empty), but a comparatively
solid or wholesome exterior, just the double fact
which we find Christ exposes repeatedly. The de
scription of the Scribes and Pharisees at the beginning
of Matt, xxiii., though the word " hypocrite " is absent
from the paragraph, clearly refers to the same type of
character ; not the obviously bad, but the disappoint
ing. There are scores and scores of characters which
quite instinctively present an appearance in outward
conduct on which others can look without dissatisfac
tion, anyhow, for a time ; but the tragedies of human
life are largely concerned with the moments in such a
life when some crisis reveals a pitiable and far-reach
ing weakness or corruption, so that just when men
wish to find support in him the hypocrite gives way.
Hence there is no reason for surprise at the strong
distaste for praise which is the normal characteristic
of the best men. It is not that they take the cynic's
view that the praise is wholly undeserved and only
given in ignorance of the facts, nor the conceited
view, that they are abpve the need of it. The reason
is that they instinctively know their lives to be
roughly divided into outward and inward ; and that

392 APPENDIX
men's praise, being concerned only with the outward,
if allowed, Iriay draw our affections by a powerful
spell towards what is outward, illusory, and passing
away, so that the inward life of the soul, the realities
of our personal existence which abide for ever, are
overlooked. For, strangely enough, though human
valuation of the outer life that meets the eye is known
to be futile, as soon as we try to appraise the real
inner life our words of commendation are felt to , be
profane. How, then, should a sincere child Of God
feel any deep delight in the glory of men's estimate ?
It is not difficult to see that the welcoming of such
glory becomes a feeling antagonistic to personal trust
in Christ (John v. 44).

THE END

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