[Footnote 3: John vi. 15.]

The revolution he wished to effect was always a moral revolution; but he had not yet begun to trust to the angels and the last trumpet for its execution. It was upon men and by the aid of men themselves that he wished to act. A visionary who had no other idea than the proximity of the last judgment, would not have had this care for the amelioration of man, and would not have given utterance to the finest moral teaching that humanity has received. Much vagueness no doubt tinged his ideas, and it was rather a n.o.ble feeling than a fixed design, that urged him to the sublime work which was realized by him, though in a very different manner to what he imagined.

It was indeed the kingdom of G.o.d, or in other words, the kingdom of the Spirit, which he founded; and if Jesus, from the bosom of his Father, sees his work bear fruit in the world, he may indeed say with truth, "This is what I have desired." That which Jesus founded, that which will remain eternally his, allowing for the imperfections which mix themselves with everything realized by humanity, is the doctrine of the liberty of the soul. Greece had already had beautiful ideas on this subject.[1] Various stoics had learned how to be free even under a tyrant. But in general the ancient world had regarded liberty as attached to certain political forms; freedom was personified in Harmodius and Aristogiton, Brutus and Ca.s.sius. The true Christian enjoys more real freedom; here below he is an exile; what matters it to him who is the transitory governor of this earth, which is not his home? Liberty for him is truth.[2] Jesus did not know history sufficiently to understand that such a doctrine came most opportunely at the moment when republican liberty ended, and when the small munic.i.p.al const.i.tutions of antiquity were absorbed in the unity of the Roman empire. But his admirable good sense, and the truly prophetic instinct which he had of his mission, guided him with marvelous certainty. By the sentence, "Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar"s, and to G.o.d the things which are G.o.d"s," he created something apart from politics, a refuge for souls in the midst of the empire of brute force. a.s.suredly, such a doctrine had its dangers. To establish as a principle that we must recognize the legitimacy of a power by the inscription on its coins, to proclaim that the perfect man pays tribute with scorn and without question, was to destroy republicanism in the ancient form, and to favor all tyranny. Christianity, in this sense, has contributed much to weaken the sense of duty of the citizen, and to deliver the world into the absolute power of existing circ.u.mstances. But in const.i.tuting an immense free a.s.sociation, which during three hundred years was able to dispense with politics, Christianity amply compensated for the wrong it had done to civic virtues. The power of the state was limited to the things of earth; the mind was freed, or at least the terrible rod of Roman omnipotence was broken forever.

[Footnote 1: See Stobaeus, _Florilegium_, ch. lxii., lxxvii., lx.x.xvi., and following.]

[Footnote 2: John viii. 32, and following.]

The man who is especially preoccupied with the duties of public life, does not readily forgive those who attach little importance to his party quarrels. He especially blames those who subordinate political to social questions, and profess a sort of indifference for the former. In one sense he is right, for exclusive power is prejudicial to the good government of human affairs. But what progress have "parties" been able to effect in the general morality of our species?

If Jesus, instead of founding his heavenly kingdom, had gone to Rome, had expended his energies in conspiring against Tiberius, or in regretting Germanicus, what would have become of the world? As an austere republican, or zealous patriot, he would not have arrested the great current of the affairs of his age, but in declaring that politics are insignificant, he has revealed to the world this truth, that one"s country is not everything, and that the man is before, and higher than, the citizen.

Our principles of positive science are offended by the dreams contained in the programme of Jesus. We know the history of the earth; cosmical revolutions of the kind which Jesus expected are only produced by geological or astronomical causes, the connection of which with spiritual things has never yet been demonstrated. But, in order to be just to great originators, they must not be judged by the prejudices in which they have shared. Columbus discovered America, though starting from very erroneous ideas; Newton believed his foolish explanation of the Apocalypse to be as true as his system of the world. Shall we place an ordinary man of our time above a Francis d"a.s.sisi, a St. Bernard, a Joan of Arc, or a Luther, because he is free from errors which these last have professed? Should we measure men by the correctness of their ideas of physics, and by the more or less exact knowledge which they possess of the true system of the world? Let us understand better the position of Jesus and that which made his power. The Deism of the eighteenth century, and a certain kind of Protestantism, have accustomed us to consider the founder of the Christian faith only as a great moralist, a benefactor of mankind.

We see nothing more in the Gospel than good maxims; we throw a prudent veil over the strange intellectual state in which it was originated.

There are even persons who regret that the French Revolution departed more than once from principles, and that it was not brought about by wise and moderate men. Let us not impose our petty and commonplace ideas on these extraordinary movements so far above our every-day life. Let us continue to admire the "morality of the gospel"--let us suppress in our religious teachings the chimera which was its soul; but do not let us believe that with the simple ideas of happiness, or of individual morality, we stir the world. The idea of Jesus was much more profound; it was the most revolutionary idea ever formed in a human brain; it should be taken in its totality, and not with those timid suppressions which deprive it of precisely that which has rendered it efficacious for the regeneration of humanity.

The ideal is ever a Utopia. When we wish nowadays to represent the Christ of the modern conscience, the consoler, and the judge of the new times, what course do we take? That which Jesus himself did eighteen hundred and thirty years ago. We suppose the conditions of the real world quite other than what they are; we represent a moral liberator breaking without weapons the chains of the negro, ameliorating the condition of the poor, and giving liberty to oppressed nations. We forget that this implies the subversion of the world, the climate of Virginia and that of Congo modified, the blood and the race of millions of men changed, our social complications restored to a chimerical simplicity, and the political stratifications of Europe displaced from their natural order. The "rest.i.tution of all things"[1] desired by Jesus was not more difficult. This new earth, this new heaven, this new Jerusalem which comes from above, this cry: "Behold I make all things new!"[2] are the common characteristics of reformers. The contrast of the ideal with the sad reality, always produces in mankind those revolts against unimpa.s.sioned reason which inferior minds regard as folly, till the day arrives in which they triumph, and in which those who have opposed them are the first to recognize their reasonableness.

[Footnote 1: _Acts_ iii. 21.]

[Footnote 2: _Rev._ xxi. 1, 2, 5.]

That there may have been a contradiction between the belief in the approaching end of the world and the general moral system of Jesus, conceived in prospect of a permanent state of humanity, nearly a.n.a.logous to that which now exists, no one will attempt to deny.[1] It was exactly this contradiction that insured the success of his work.

The millenarian alone would have done nothing lasting; the moralist alone would have done nothing powerful. The millenarianism gave the impulse, the moralist insured the future. Hence Christianity united the two conditions of great success in this world, a revolutionary starting-point, and the possibility of continuous life. Everything which is intended to succeed ought to respond to these two wants; for the world seeks both to change and to last. Jesus, at the same time that he announced an unparalleled subversion in human affairs, proclaimed the principles upon which society has reposed for eighteen hundred years.

[Footnote 1: The millenarian sects of England present the same contrast, I mean the belief in the near end of the world, notwithstanding much good sense in the conduct of life, and an extraordinary understanding of commercial affairs and industry.]

That which in fact distinguishes Jesus from the agitators of his time, and from those of all ages, is his perfect idealism. Jesus, in some respects, was an anarchist, for he had no idea of civil government.

That government seemed to him purely and simply an abuse. He spoke of it in vague terms, and as a man of the people who had no idea of politics. Every magistrate appeared to him a natural enemy of the people of G.o.d; he prepared his disciples for contests with the civil powers, without thinking for a moment that there was anything in this to be ashamed of.[1] But he never shows any desire to put himself in the place of the rich and the powerful. He wishes to annihilate riches and power, but not to appropriate them. He predicts persecution and all kinds of punishment to his disciples;[2] but never once does the thought of armed resistance appear. The idea of being all-powerful by suffering and resignation, and of triumphing over force by purity of heart, is indeed an idea peculiar to Jesus. Jesus is not a spiritualist, for to him everything tended to a palpable realization; he had not the least notion of a soul separated from the body. But he is a perfect idealist, matter being only to him the sign of the idea, and the real, the living expression of that which does not appear.

[Footnote 1: Matt. x. 17, 18; Luke xii. 11.]

[Footnote 2: Matt. v. 10, and following; x. entirely; Luke vi. 22, and following; John xv. 18, and following; xvi. 2, and following, 20, 33; xvii. 14.]

To whom should we turn, to whom should we trust to establish the kingdom of G.o.d? The mind of Jesus on this point never hesitated. That which is highly esteemed among men, is abomination in the sight of G.o.d.[1] The founders of the kingdom of G.o.d are the simple. Not the rich, not the learned, not priests; but women, common people, the humble, and the young.[2] The great characteristic of the Messiah is, that "the poor have the gospel preached to them."[3] The idyllic and gentle nature of Jesus here resumed the superiority. A great social revolution, in which rank will be overturned, in which all authority in this world will be humiliated, was his dream. The world will not believe him; the world will kill him. But his disciples will not be of the world.[4] They will be a little flock of the humble and the simple, who will conquer by their very humility. The idea which has made "Christian" the ant.i.thesis of "worldly," has its full justification in the thoughts of the master.[5]

[Footnote 1: Luke xvi. 15.]

[Footnote 2: Matt. v. 3, 10, xviii. 3, xix. 14, 23, 24, xxi. 31, xxii.

2, and following; Mark x. 14, 15, 23-25; Luke iv. 18, and following; vi. 20, xviii. 16, 17, 24, 25.]

[Footnote 3: Matt. xi. 5.]

[Footnote 4: John xv. 19, xvii. 14, 16.]

[Footnote 5: See especially chapter xvii. of St. John, expressing, if not a real discourse delivered by Jesus, at least a sentiment which was very deeply rooted in his disciples, and which certainly came from him.]

CHAPTER VIII.

JESUS AT CAPERNAUM.

Beset by an idea, gradually becoming more and more imperious and exclusive, Jesus proceeds henceforth with a kind of fatal impa.s.sibility in the path marked out by his astonishing genius and the extraordinary circ.u.mstances in which he lived. Hitherto he had only communicated his thoughts to a few persons secretly attracted to him; henceforward his teaching was sought after by the public. He was about thirty years of age.[1] The little group of hearers who had accompanied him to John the Baptist had, doubtless, increased, and perhaps some disciples of John had attached themselves to him.[2] It was with this first nucleus of a church that he boldly announced, on his return into Galilee, the "good tidings of the kingdom of G.o.d."

This kingdom was approaching, and it was he, Jesus, who was that "Son of Man" whom Daniel had beheld in his vision as the divine herald of the last and supreme revelation.

[Footnote 1: Luke iii. 23; Gospel of the Ebionites, in Epiph., _Adv.

Haer._, x.x.x. 13.]

[Footnote 2: John i. 37, and following.]

We must remember, that in the Jewish ideas, which were averse to art and mythology, the simple form of man had a superiority over that of _Cherubs_, and of the fantastic animals which the imagination of the people, since it had been subjected to the influence of a.s.syria, had ranged around the Divine Majesty. Already in Ezekiel,[1] the Being seated on the supreme throne, far above the monsters of the mysterious chariot, the great revealer of prophetic visions, had the figure of a man. In the book of Daniel, in the midst of the vision of the empires, represented by animals, at the moment when the great judgment commences, and when the books are opened, a Being "like unto a Son of Man," advances toward the Ancient of days, who confers on him the power to judge the world, and to govern it for eternity.[2] _Son of Man_, in the Semitic languages, especially in the Aramean dialects, is a simple synonym of _man_. But this chief pa.s.sage of Daniel struck the mind; the words, _Son of Man_, became, at least in certain schools,[3] one of the t.i.tles of the Messiah, regarded as judge of the world, and as king of the new era about to be inaugurated.[4] The application which Jesus made of it to himself was therefore the proclamation of his Messiahship, and the affirmation of the coming catastrophe in which he was to figure as judge, clothed with the full powers which had been delegated to him by the Ancient of days.[5]

[Footnote 1: Chap. i. 5, 26, and following.]

[Footnote 2: Daniel vii. 13, 14; comp. viii. 15, x. 16.]

[Footnote 3: In John xii. 34, the Jews do not appear to be aware of the meaning of this word.]

[Footnote 4: Book of Enoch, xlvi. 1-3, xlviii. 2, 3, lxii. 9, 14, lxx.

1 (division of Dilmann); Matt. x. 23, xiii. 41, xvi. 27, 28, xix. 28, xxiv. 27, 30, 37, 39, 44, xxv. 31, xxvi. 64; Mark xiii. 26, xiv. 62; Luke xii. 40, xvii. 24, 26, 30, xxi. 27, 36, xxii. 69; _Acts_ vii. 55.

But the most significant pa.s.sage is John v. 27, compared with _Rev._ i. 13, xiv. 14. The expression "Son of woman," for the Messiah, occurs once in the book of Enoch, lxii. 5.]

[Footnote 5: John v. 22, 27.]

The success of the teaching of the new prophet was this time decisive.

A group of men and women, all characterized by the same spirit of juvenile frankness and simple innocence, adhered to him, and said, "Thou art the Messiah." As the Messiah was to be the son of David, they naturally conceded him this t.i.tle, which was synonymous with the former. Jesus allowed it with pleasure to be given to him, although it might cause him some embarra.s.sment, his birth being well known. The name which he preferred himself was that of "Son of Man," an apparently humble t.i.tle, but one which connected itself directly with the Messianic hopes. This was the t.i.tle by which he designated himself,[1] and he used "The Son of Man" as synonymous with the p.r.o.noun "I," which he avoided. But he was never thus addressed, doubtless because the name in question would be fully applicable to him only on the day of his future appearance.

[Footnote 1: This t.i.tle occurs eighty-three times in the Gospels, and always in the discourses of Jesus.]

His centre of action, at this epoch of his life, was the little town of Capernaum, situated on the sh.o.r.e of the lake of Gennesareth. The name of Capernaum, containing the word _caphar_, "village," seems to designate a small town of the ancient character, in opposition to the great towns built according to the Roman method, like Tiberias.[1]

That name was so little known that Josephus, in one pa.s.sage of his writings,[2] takes it for the name of a fountain, the fountain having more celebrity than the village situated near it. Like Nazareth, Capernaum had no history, and had in no way partic.i.p.ated in the profane movement favored by the Herods. Jesus was much attached to this town, and made it a second home.[3] Soon after his return, he attempted to commence his work at Nazareth, but without success.[4] He could not perform any miracle there, according to the simple remark of one of his biographers.[5] The knowledge which existed there about his family, not an important one, injured his authority too much.

People could not regard as the son of David, one whose brother, sister, and brother-in-law they saw every day, and it is remarkable besides, that his family were strongly opposed to him, and plainly refused to believe in his mission.[6] The Nazarenes, much more violent, wished, it is said, to kill him by throwing him from a steep rock.[7] Jesus aptly remarked that this treatment was the fate of all great men, and applied to himself the proverb, "No one is a prophet in his own country."

[Footnote 1: It is true that Tell-Houm, which is generally identified with Capernaum, contains the remains of somewhat fine monuments. But, besides this identification being doubtful, these monuments may be of the second or third century after Christ.]

[Footnote 2: _B.J._, III. x. 8.]

[Footnote 3: Matt. ix. 1; Mark ii. 1.]

[Footnote 4: Matt. xiii. 54, and following; Mark vi. 1, and following; Luke iv. 16, and following, 23-24; John iv. 44.]

[Footnote 5: Mark vi. 5; cf. Matt. xii. 58; Luke iv. 23.]

[Footnote 6: Matt. xiii. 57; Mark vi. 4; John vii. 3, and following.]