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 ingenious exegesis, cannot be brought into harmony with Christ’s predominant teaching, but remain as foreign elements in the words of the Master, possibly brought back through his disciples, or, more probably, used by Jesus uncritically—a part of the current religious imagery in which he shared.

It is often declared that in these teachings there is nothing new, and indeed analogies can be found for many sayings; yet nowhere else do we gain so strong an impression of originality. The net result is not only new but revolutionary; so was it understood by the Pharisees. They and Jesus spoke indeed the same words and appealed to the same authorities, but they rightly saw in him a revolutionist who threatened the existence of their most cherished hopes. The Messianic kingdom which they sought was opposed point by point to the kingdom of which he spoke, and their God and his Father—though called by the same sacred name—were different. Hence almost from the beginning of his public ministry they constantly opposed him, the conflict deepening into complete antagonism.

Jesus has already been termed unique, one of the common people yet separated from them, and this description applies to the breadth, depth and reality of his sympathy. In the meagre records of his life there is evidence that he deemed no form of suffering humanity foreign to himself. This was not a mere sentiment, nor was his sympathy superficial, for it constituted the essential characteristic of his personality—“He went about doing good.” In him the will of the Father for the redemption of the race was incarnate. This led him into the society of those outcasts who were condemned and rejected by the respectable and righteous classes. In contemptuous condemnation he was called the friend of the outcasts (Matt. xi. 19; Mark ii. 16–17), and on his part he proclaimed that these sinners would enter into the Kingdom of Heaven before the self-righteous saints (Matt. xxi. 31). Even the most repulsive forms of disease and sin drew from him only loving aid, while he recognized in all other men who laboured for the welfare of their fellows the most intimate relationship to himself. These constituted his family, and these were they whom his Father will bless.

Jesus recognized his unique position; he could not be ignorant of his powers. Even the prophets had spoken in the name of God; they accepted neither book nor priesthood as authoritative, but uttered their truth as they were inspired to speak, and commanded men to listen and obey. As in Jesus the whole prophetic line culminates, so does its consciousness. Reverent toward the Holy Scriptures, he spoke not as their expositor but with a divine power which invests his words with immediate and full authority. The prophets use the formula, “Thus saith the Lord,” but he goes beyond them and speaks in his own name, “Amen, I say unto you.” He knew himself as greater than the prophets, indeed as him of whom the prophets spoke—the Messiah. Only through this self-consciousness can we explain his mission and the career of his disciples. The prophets up to John foretold the coming of the kingdom (Matt. xi. 11–13; Luke xvi. 16), but Jesus opened its doors and made possible entrance into it. Where he is there it is, and hence those who follow him are God’s children, and those who refuse his message are left outside in darkness. He is to sit as enthroned, judge and king, and by him is men’s future to be determined (Matt. xxv. 31 f.; Mark xiii. 26). Indeed it was his presence more than his teaching which created his church. Great as were his words, greater was his personality. His disciples misunderstood what he said, but they trusted and followed him. By him they felt themselves freed from sin and fear—and under the influence of a divine power.

Though his claims to authoritative pre-eminence thus took him out of the class of prophets and put him even above Elijah and Moses (Mark ix. 2-7; Luke vii. 28; Luke x. 23-24), and though naturally this self-assertion seemed blasphemous to those who did not accept him, yet as he had transformed the traditional notion of the kingdom, so did he the current thought of the Messiah. The pre-eminence was not to be of rank and glory but of service and self-sacrifice. In his kingdom there can be no strife for precedence, since its King comes not to be ministered unto but to minister and to give his life in the service of others (Mark ix. 33 f., x. 42-45). The formal acknowledgment of the Messiah’s worth and position matters little, for to call him Lord does not ensure entrance into his kingdom (Matt. vii. 21-23). It is those who fail to recognize the spirit of sympathy and self-sacrificing service as divine and blaspheme redeeming love, who are in danger of eternal sin (Mark iii. 28-29). All who do the will of the Father, i.e. who serve their fellows, are the brethren of Christ, even though they do not call him Lord (Mark iii. 31-35; Matt. vii. 21): and those are blessed who minister to the needy even though ignorant of any relation to himself (Matt. xxv. 37-40). Finally, membership in his own selected company, or a place in the chosen people, is not of prime importance (Mark ix. 38-40; Luke xiii. 24-30).

Jesus also refuses to conform to the current ideas as to the establishment of the kingdom. He wrought miracles, it is true, because of his divine sympathy and compassion, but he refused to show miraculous signs as a proof of his Messianic character (Mark viii. 12). The tradition of the people implied a sudden appearance of the Messiah, but Jesus made no claims to a supernatural origin and was content to be known as the son of Joseph and Mary (Mark vi. 3-4). His kingdom is not to be set up by wonders and miraculous powers, nor is it to be established by force (Matt. xxvi. 52). Such means would contradict its fundamental character, for as the kingdom of loving service it can be established only by loving service. And as God is love, he can be revealed not by prodigies of power but only by a love which is faithful unto death.

Even the disciples of Jesus could not grasp the simplicity and profundity of his message; still less could his opponents. When the crisis came, he alone remained unshaken in his faith. He was accused of blasphemy to the ecclesiastical authorities and of insurrection to the civil rulers. He was condemned and crucified. His followers were scattered every man to his own place as sheep without a shepherd. Of his work nothing remained, not a written word, nor more than the rudiments of an organization. The decisive event, which turned defeat into victory and re-established courage and faith, was the resurrection of Jesus from the dead and his reappearance to his disciples. Our sources will not permit the precise determination of the order or the nature of these appearances, but in any case from them arose the faith which was the basis of the Christian Church and the starting-point of its theology.

The death of Jesus as a criminal, and his resurrection, profoundly aroused the belief and hopes of the little group of Jews who were his followers. His person and mission assumed the first place in their affections and their thinking. He had been to them a prophet, mighty in word and deed, but he now becomes to them the Messiah, Christ. It is not his word but his person which assumes first place, and faith is acceptance of him—crucified and risen—as Messiah. Hence his followers early acquire the name Christians from the Greek form of the word. With this emphasis upon the Messiah the Jewish element would seem to be predominant, but as a matter of fact it was not so. The earlier group of disciples, it is true, did not appreciate the universality of the teaching of Jesus, and they continued zealous for the older forms, but St Paul through his prophetic consciousness grasped the fundamental fact and became Jesus’ true interpreter. As a result Christianity was rejected by the Jews and became the conquering religion of the Roman empire. In this it underwent another modification of far-reaching consequence.

In our earliest sources—the epistles of St Paul—Christ is the pre-existent man from heaven, who had there existed in the form of God, and had come to earth by a voluntary act of self-humiliation. He is before and above all things. By him all things exist. In the Johannine writings he is the Son of God—the Logos who in the beginning was with God—of whom are all things—who lightens every man—and who was incarnate in Jesus. Here the cosmological element is