Читать книгу: «Town and Country Sermons», страница 15

Only let us remember to ask for pardon and to ask for peace, that we may use them as the collect bids us;—To ask for pardon, not merely that we may escape punishment; not even to escape punishment at all, if punishment be wholesome for us, as it often is: but that we may be cleansed from our sins; that we may not be left to our own weakness and our own bad habits, to grow more and more useless, more and more unhappy, day by day, but that we may be cleansed from them; and grow purer, nobler, juster, stronger, more worthy of our place in God’s kingdom, as our years roll by.  Let us remember to ask for peace, not merely to get rid of unpleasant thoughts, or unpleasant people, or unpleasant circumstances; and then sit down and say, Soul, take thine ease, eat and drink, for thou hast much goods laid up for many years: but let us ask for peace, that we may serve God with a quiet mind; that we may get rid of the impatient, cowardly, discontented, hopeless heart, which will not let a man go about his business like a man; and get, instead of it, by the inspiration of God’s Holy Spirit, the calm, contented, brave, hopeful heart, in the strength of which a man can work with a will wherever God may put him, even amidst vexation, confusion, disappointment, slander, and persecution; and, in his place and calling, serve the Lord, who served him when he died for him, and who serves him, and all his people, now and for ever in heaven.

So shall we have real pardon, and real peace.  A pardon which will make us really better; and a peace which will make us really more useful.  And to be good and to be useful were the two ends for which God sent us into the world at all.

SERMON XXX. THE CENTRAL SUN

(Sunday after Ascension, Evening.)

Ephesians iv. 9. 10.  Now that he ascended, what is it but that he also descended first into the lower parts of the earth?  He that descended is the same also that ascended up far above all heavens, that he might fill all things.

This is one of those very deep texts which we are not meant to think about every day; only at such seasons as this, when we have to think of Christ ascending into heaven, that he might send down his Spirit at Whitsuntide.  Of this the text speaks; and therefore, we may, I hope, think a little of it to-day, but reverently, and cautiously, like men who know a very little, and are afraid of saying more than they know.  These deep mysteries about heaven we must always meddle with very humbly, lest we get out of our depth in haste and self-conceit.  As it is said,

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

For, if we are not very careful, we shall be apt to mistake the meaning of Scripture, and make it say what we like, and twist it to suit our own fancies, and our own ignorance.  Therefore we must never, with texts like this, say positively, ‘It must mean this.  It can mean only this.’  How can we tell that?

This world, which we do see, is far too wonderful for us to understand.  How much more wonderful must be the world which we do not see?  How much more wonderful must heaven be?  How can we tell what is there, or what is not there?  We can tell of some things that are not there, and those are sin, evil, disorder, harm of any kind.  Heaven is utterly good.  Beyond that, we know nothing.  Therefore I dare not be positive about this text, for fear I should try to explain it according to my own fancies.  Wise fathers and divines have differed very much as to what it means; how far any one of them is right, I cannot tell you.

The ancient way of explaining this text was this.  People believed in old times that the earth was flat.  Then, they held, hell was below the earth, or inside it in some way: and the burning mountains, out of which came fire and smoke, were the mouths of hell.  And when they believed that, it was easy for them to suppose that St. Paul spoke of Christ’s descending into hell.  He went down, says St. Paul, into the lower parts of the earth.  What could those lower parts be, they asked, but the hell which lay under the earth?

Now about that we know nothing.  St. Paul himself never says that hell is below the earth.  Indeed (and this is a very noteworthy thing) St. Paul never, in his epistles, mentions in plain words hell at all; so what St. Paul thought about the matter, we can never know.  Whether by Christ’s descending into the lower parts of the earth, he meant descending into hell, or merely that our Lord came down on this earth of ours, poor, humble, and despised, laying his glory by for a while, this we cannot tell.  Some wise men think one thing, some another.  Two of the wisest and best of the great old fathers of the Church think that he meant only Christ’s death and burial.  So how dare I give a positive opinion, where wiser men than I differ?

But about the other half of the text, which says, that he ascended high above all heavens, there is no such difficulty.

All agree as to what that means: though, perhaps, in old times they would have put it in different words.

The old belief was, that as hell was below the flat earth, so heaven was above it; and that there were many heavens, seven heavens, in layers, as it were, one above the other; and that the seventh heaven, which was the highest of all, was where God dwelt.  Now, whether St. Paul believed this, we cannot tell.  He speaks of being himself caught up into the third heaven, and here Christ is spoken of as ascending above all heavens.

My own belief, though I say it very humbly, is, that St. Paul spoke of these things only as a figure of speech, for the sake of the ignorance of the people to whom he was writing.  They talked in that way; and he was forced now and then to talk in that way, too, to make them understand him.  I think that, when he spoke of being caught up into the third heaven, he did not mean that he was lifted bodily off the earth into the skies: but that his soul was raised up and enlightened to understand high and wonderful heavenly matters, though not the highest or most wonderful.  If he had meant that, he would have said, that he was caught up into the seventh heaven.  We know that our Lord, in the same way, continually used parables; because, as he said, the ignorant people could not understand the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven; and he had, therefore, to put them into parables, taken from the common country matters, and country forms of speech, if by any means he might make them understand.  And so, I suppose, it was with St. Paul.  He had to speak in such a way that he could be understood; and no more.

But when he says that Christ ascended far above all heavens, we are to believe this—that he ascended to God himself.  So high that he could go no higher; so far that he could go no farther.

We, now, do not believe that there are seven heavens above the earth; and we need not.  It is no doctrine of the Church, or of the Creeds.  We know that the earth is round, and not flat; and that the heavens, if by that we mean the sky, is neither above it, nor below it, but round it on every side.  But some may say, whither, then, did our Lord ascend?  To what place did his body go up?  And that is a right question; for we must always bear in mind that not merely Christ’s godhead but his manhood, not merely Christ’s soul but his body also, ascended into heaven.  If we do not believe that, we do not hold the Catholic faith.  Whither, then, did Christ ascend?

My friends, we know this.  That this earth and the planets move round the sun, which is in the centre of them.  We know this, too; that all the countless stars which spangle the sky are really suns likewise, perhaps, with worlds which we cannot see, moving round them, as we move round the sun.  We know, too, that these fixed stars, as they seem to be, are not really fixed, but have some regular movements among themselves, which seem very slow and small to us, from their immense distance, but which really are very great and fast.

Now all these suns and stars, it is reasonable to believe, most probably have a centre.  There must be order among them; and they most probably move round one thing, one place, one central sun, as it were, which is the very heart of all the worlds, and the whole universe.  Where that place is, or what it is like, we know not, and cannot know.  Only this we may believe, that it is glorious beyond all that eye hath seen, and ear heard, or hath entered into the heart of man to conceive.  If this world be beautiful, how beautiful must that world of all worlds be.  If the sun be glorious, how glorious must the sun of all suns be.  If the heaven over us be grand, how grand must that heaven of heavens be.  We will not talk of it; for we cannot imagine it: and if we tried to, we should only lower it to our own low fancies.  But is it not reasonable to suppose, that there God the Father does, perhaps, in some unspeakable way, shew forth his glory?  That there, in the heart of all the worlds, Cherubim and Seraphim continually adore him, crying day and night, ‘Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Sabaoth: Heaven and earth are full of the majesty of thy glory!’ before his throne from which goes forth light, and power, and life, to all worlds and all created things.

And is it not reasonable to believe, that there Christ is, in the bosom of the Father, and at the right hand of God?  We know that those, too, are only figures.  That God is a Spirit, everywhere and nowhere; and has not hands as we have.  But it is only by such figures that the Bible can make us understand the truth, that Christ is the highest being in all heavens and worlds; equal with God the Father, and sharer of his kingdom, and power, and glory, God blessed for ever.  Amen.

What then does St. Paul mean, when he says, ‘That he may fill all things?’  I do not know.  And I will take care not to lessen and spoil St. Paul’s words, by any ignorant words of my own.  But one thing I know it will mean one day, for St. Paul says so.  That Christ reigns, and will reign, triumphant over sin, and death, and hell, till he have put all enemies under his feet, and the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.  Then shall he deliver up the kingdom to God, even the Father; that God may be all in all.  What that means I do not know.  But this I can say, and you can say.  We can pray that God will finish the number of his elect and hasten his kingdom, that we, with all that are departed in the true faith, may have our perfect consummation and bliss, both in body and soul, in his eternal kingdom.  And this I can say, that it means now, for you and me; for Whitsuntide tells me:—that whatever else Christ can or cannot fill, he can at least fill our hearts, because he is in the bosom of the Father himself; and therefore from him, as from the Father, proceeds the Holy Spirit, the Lord and Giver of life.  That Spirit will proceed even to us, if we will have him.  He will fill our hearts with himself; with the Spirit of goodness, which proceeds out of the heaven of heavens, and out of the bosom of God himself; with love, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness; with truth, honour, duty, earnestness, and all that is the likeness of Christ and of God.  Oh let us pray for that Spirit; the Spirit of truth, which Christ promised us when he ascended up into the heaven of heavens, to keep us sound in our most holy faith; and the Spirit of goodness, to give us strength to live the good lives of good Christian men.

And then it will matter little what opinions we hold about deep things, which the wisest man can never put into words.  And it will matter little, whether what I have been telling you to-day about the heaven of heavens be exactly true or not; for what says St. Paul of such deep matters?  That we know in part, and prophesy in part; and that prophecies shall fail, and knowledge vanish away: but charity, love, and right feeling, and right doing, which is the very Holy Spirit of God, shall abide for ever.  And if that Spirit be with us, he will guide us in due time into all truth; teach us all we need to know, and enable us to practise all we ought to do.  Amen.

SERMON XXXI. CHRISTMAS PEACE

(Sunday before Christmas.)

Phil. iv. 4.  Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again I say, Rejoice.

This is a glorious text, and one fit to be the key-note of Christmas-day.  If we will take it to heart, it will tell us how to keep Christmas-day.  St. Paul has been speaking of two good women, who seem to have had some difference; and he beseeches them to make up their difference, and be of the same mind in the Lord.  And then he goes on to tell them, and all Christian people, why they should make up their differences.

And for that reason, I suppose, the Church has chosen it for the epistle before Christmas-day, on which all men are to make friends with each other, and rejoice in the Lord.  Let your moderation, he says, be known to all men.  The Greek word signifies forbearance, reasonable dealing, consideration for one another, readiness to give way, not standing too severely on one’s own rights.  Now this is just the temper in which we ought to meet our friends at Christmas—forbearance.  They may not have always behaved well to us.  Be it so.  No more have we to them.  Let us, once in the year at least, forget old grudges.  Let us do as we would be done by; give and forgive; live and let live; bury our past quarrels, and shake hands over their graves.

For the Lord is at hand.  Close to all of us: watching all we do, and setting the right value on it.  He cannot mistake.  He sees both sides of a matter, and all sides—a thousand sides which we cannot see.  He can judge better than we.  Let him judge.  Why do I say, Let him judge?  He has judged already, weeks, months ago, as soon as each quarrel happened: and, perhaps, he found us in the wrong as well as our neighbours; and, if so, the least said the soonest mended.  Let us forgive and forget, lest we be neither forgotten nor forgiven.

And, because the Lord is at hand, be anxious about nothing.  The word here is the same as in the Sermon on the Mount.  It means do not fret; do not terrify yourselves; for the Lord is at hand; he knows what you want: and will he not give it?  Is not Christmas-day a sign that he will give it—a pledge of his love?  What did he do on the first Christmas-day?  What did he shew himself to be on the first Christmas-day?  Now, here is the root of the whole matter, and a deep root it is; as deep as the beginning of all things which are, or ever were, or ever will be.  And yet if we will believe our Bibles, it is a root which we all may find.  What did the angels say the first Christmas night?  Peace on earth, and goodwill to men.  That is what God proclaimed.  That is what he said that he had, and would give.

Now, says the apostle, if you will believe the latter half of this same Christmas message, then the first half of it will come true to you.  If you will believe that God’s will is a good will to you, then you will have peace on earth.  For believe in Christmas-day; believe that the Lord is at hand; that he has been made man for ever and ever; and that to the Man Christ Jesus all power is given in heaven and earth: and then, if you want aught, instead of grudging or grinding your neighbours, ask him.  In everything let your requests be made known unto God: and then the peace of God will keep your hearts through Christ Jesus.

You will feel at peace with God through Christ Jesus, because you have found out that God is at peace with you; that God is not against you, but for you; that God does not hate you, but love you; and if God is at peace with you, what cause have you to be at war with him?  And so the message of Christmas-day will bring you peace.

You will be at peace with your neighbours, through Christ Jesus.  When you see God stooping to make peace with sinful men, you will be ashamed to be quarrelling with them.  When you see God full of love, you will be ashamed to keep up peevishness, grudging, and spite.  When you see God’s heaven full of light, you will be ashamed to be dark yourselves; your hearts will go out freely to your fellow-creatures; you will long to be friends with every one you meet; and you will find in that the highest pleasure which you ever felt in life.  But mind one thing—what sort of a peace this peace of God is.  It passes all understanding; the very loftiest understanding.  The cleverest and most learned men that ever lived could not have found it—we know they did not find it—by their own cleverness and learning.  No more will you find God’s peace, if you seek for it with your understanding.  Thinking will not bring you peace, think as shrewdly as you may.  Reading will not bring it, read as deeply as you may.  Some people think otherwise; that they can get the peace of God by understanding.  If they could but understand more, their minds would be at rest.  So they weary themselves with reading, and thinking, and arguing, perhaps trying to understand predestination, election, assurance; perhaps trying to understand which is the true Church.  What do they get thereby?  Certainly not the peace of God.  They certainly do not set their minds at rest.  They cannot.  Books cannot give a live soul rest.  Understanding cannot.  Nothing can give you or me rest, save God himself.  The peace is God’s; and he must give it himself, with his own hand, or we shall never get it.  Go then to God himself.  Thou art his child, as Christmas-day declares: be not afraid to go unto thy Father.  Pray to him; tell him what thou wantest: say, Father, I am not moderate, reasonable, forbearing.  I fear I cannot keep Christmas-day aright, for I have not a peaceful Christmas spirit in me; and I know that I shall never get it by thinking, and reading, and understanding; for it passes all that, and lies far away beyond it, does peace, in the very essence of thine undivided, unmoved, absolute, eternal Godhead, which no change nor decay of this created world, nor sin or folly of men or devils, can ever alter; but which abideth for ever what it is, in perfect rest, and perfect power, and perfect love.  O Father, give me thy peace.  Soothe this restless, greedy, fretful soul of mine, as a mother soothes a sick and feverish child.  How thou wilt do it I do not know.  It passes all understanding.  But though the sick child cannot reach the mother, the mother is at hand, and can reach it.  Though the eagle, by flying, cannot reach the sun, yet the sun is at hand, and can reach all the earth, and pour its light and warmth over all things.  And thou art more than a mother: thou art the everlasting Father.  Pour thy love over me, that I may love as thou lovest.  Thou art more than the sun: thou art the light and the life of all things.  Pour thy light and thy life over me, that I may see as thou seest, and live as thou livest, and be at peace with myself and all the world, as thou art at peace with thyself and all the world.  Again, I say, I know not how; for it passes all understanding: but I hope that thou wilt do it for me.  I trust that thou wilt do it for me, for I believe the good news of Christmas-day.  I believe that thou art love, and that thy mercy is over all thy works.  I believe the message of Christmas-day: that thou so lovest the world, that thou hast sent thy Son to save the world, and me.  I know not how; for that, too, passes understanding: but I believe that thou wilt do it; for I believe that thou art love; and that thy mercy is over all thy works, even over me.  I believe the message of Christmas-day, that thy will is peace on earth, even peace to me, restless and unquiet as I am; and goodwill to men, even to me, the chief of sinners.

SERMON XXXII. THE LIFE OF THE SPIRIT

(First Sunday after Christmas.)

Isaiah xxxviii. 16.  O Lord, by these things men live, and in all these things is the life of my spirit.

These words are the words of Hezekiah, king of Judah; and they are true words, words from God.  But, if they are true words, they are true words for every one—for you and me, for every one here in this church this day: for they do not say, By these things certain men live, one man here and another man there; but all men.  Whosoever is really alive, that is, has life in his spirit, his soul, his heart, the life of a man and not a beast, the only life which is worthy to be called life, then that life is kept up in him in the same way that it was kept up in Hezekiah, and by the same means.

Let us see, then, what things they were which gave Hezekiah’s spirit life.  Great joy, great honour, great success, wealth, health, prosperity and pleasure?  Was it by these things that Hezekiah found men lived?  Not so, but by great sorrow.  ‘In those days was Hezekiah sick unto death.  And Isaiah the prophet the son of Amos came unto him and said, Thus saith the Lord, Set thine house in order; for thou shall die and not live.  Then Hezekiah turned his face towards the wall and prayed unto the Lord; and Hezekiah wept sore.’

Trouble upon trouble came on Hezekiah; and that just when he might have expected a little rest.  The Lord had just delivered Hezekiah and the Jews from a fearful danger, of which we read in the chapter before.  Hezekiah had believed God’s promise by the mouth of Isaiah.  He held fast his faith in God when Sennacherib and his Assyrian army were camping round Jerusalem; for God had said, ‘I will defend this city to save it for my own sake and for my servant David’s sake.’  He defended his city bravely and nobly, and showed himself a true, and valiant, and godly king.  And perhaps Hezekiah expected to be rewarded for his faith, and rewarded for having done his duty: but it was not so.  He had to wait, and to endure more.  And now this fresh trouble was come upon him.  Isaiah told him he should die and not live: and he must prepare himself to meet death.

Hezekiah, you see, was horribly afraid of death.  I do not mean that he was afraid of going to hell, for he does not say so: but he felt, to use his own words, ‘The grave cannot praise thee, death cannot celebrate thee: they that go down into the pit cannot hope for thy truth.’  And, therefore, death looked to him an ugly and an evil thing—as it is; the Lord’s enemy, and his last enemy, the one with which he will have the longest and sorest fight.  He conquered death by rising from the dead: but nevertheless we die; and death is an ugly, fearful, hateful thing in itself, and rightly called the King of Terrors: for terrible it is to those who do not know that Christ has conquered it.  Hezekiah lived before the Lord Jesus came into the flesh to bring life and immortality to light, by rising from the dead; and, therefore, the life after death was not brought to light to him, any more than it was to David, or any other Old Testament Jew.  He dreaded it, because he knew not what would come after death.  And, therefore, he prayed hard not to die.  He did not pray altogether in a right way: but still he prayed.  ‘Remember now, O Lord, I beseech thee, how I have walked before thee in truth and with a perfect heart, and have done that which was good in thy sight.’  And the Lord heard his prayer.  ‘Then came the word of the Lord to Isaiah, saying, Go, and say to Hezekiah, Thus saith the Lord, I have heard thy prayer, I have seen thy tears, behold I will add unto thy days fifteen years.’

Then what was the use of God’s warning to him?  What was the use of his sickness and his terror, if, after all, his prayer was heard, and after the Lord had told him, Thou shall die and not live—that did not come to pass: but the very contrary happened, that he lived, and did not die?

Of what use to him was it?  Of this use at least, that it taught him that the Lord God would hear the prayers of mortal men.  Oh my friends, is not that worth knowing?  Is not that worth going through any misery to learn—that the Lord will hear us?  That he is not a cold, arbitrary tyrant, who goes his own way, never caring for our cries and tears, too proud to turn out of his way to hear us: but that he is very pitiful and of tender mercy, and repenting him of the evil?  Hezekiah did not pray rightly.  He thought himself a better man than he was.  He said, ‘Remember now, O Lord, I beseech thee, how I have walked before thee in truth and with a perfect heart, and have done that which is good in thy sight.’  And Hezekiah wept sore.  But he did pray.  He went to God, and told his story to him, and wept sore; and the Lord God heard him, and taught him that he was not as good as he fancied; taught him that, after all, he had nothing to say for himself—no reason to shew why he should not die.  ‘What shall I say?  He hath both spoken unto me, and himself hath done it: I shall go softly all my years in the bitterness of my soul.’  And so he felt that, instead of justifying himself, he must throw himself utterly on God’s love and mercy; that God must undertake for him.  ‘O Lord, I am oppressed, crushed—the heart is beaten out of me.  I have nothing to say for myself.  Undertake for me.  I have nothing to say for myself, but I have plenty to say of thee.  Thou art good and just.  Thou wilt not leave my soul in hell.  I can say no more.’

And then he found that the Lord was ready to save him.  That what the Lord wished was, not to kill him, but to recover him, and make him live—live more really, and fully, and wisely, and manfully—by making him trust more utterly in God’s goodness, and love, and mercy; making him more certain that, good as he thought himself, and perfect in heart, he was full of sins: and yet that the Lord had cast all these sins of his behind his back, forgotten and forgiven them, as soon as he had made him see that all that was good and strong in him came from God, and all that was evil and weak from himself.  And then he says, ‘O Lord, by these things men live, and in all these things is the life of my spirit.’  God meant all along to receive me, and make me live.  He chastened me, and brought me low, to shew me that my own faith, my own righteousness, was no reason for his saving me: but that his own love and mercy was a good reason for saving me.  ‘Behold,’ he goes on to say, ‘for peace I had great bitterness: but thou hast in love to my soul delivered it from the pit of corruption: for thou hast cast all my sins behind thy back.’

And, my dear friends, what Hezekiah saw but dimly, we ought to see clearly.  The blessed news of the Gospel ought to tell us it clearly.  For the blessed Gospel tells us that the same Lord who chastened and taught, and then saved, Hezekiah, was made flesh, and born a man of the substance of a mortal woman; that he might in his own person bear all our sicknesses and carry our infirmities; that he might understand all our temptations, and be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, seeing that he himself was tempted in all points likewise, yet without sin.

Oh hear this, you who have had sorrows in past times.  Hear this, you who expect sorrows in the times to come.

He who made, he who lightens, every man who comes into the world; he who gave you every right thought and wholesome feeling that you ever had in your lives: he counts your tears; he knows your sorrows; he is able and willing to save you to the uttermost.  Therefore do not be afraid of your own afflictions.  Face them like men.  Think over them.  Ask him to help you out of them: or if that is not to be, at least to tell you what he means by them.  Be sure that what he must mean by them is good to you: a lesson to you, that in some way or other they are meant to make you wiser, stronger, hardier, more sure of God’s love, more ready to do God’s work, whithersoever it may lead you.  Do not be afraid of the dark day of affliction, I say.  It may teach you more than the bright prosperous one.  Many a man can see clearly in the cloudy day, who would be dazzled in the sunlight.  The dull weather, they say, is the best weather for battle; and sorrow is the best time for seeing through and conquering one’s own self.  Therefore do not be afraid, I say, of sorrow.  All the clouds in the sky cannot move the sun a foot further off; and all the sorrow in the world cannot move God any further off.  God is there still, where he always was; near you, and below you, and above you, and around you; for in him you live and move and have your being, and are the offspring and children of God.  Nay, he is nearer you, if possible, in sorrow, than in joy.  He is informing you, and guiding you with his eye, and, like a father, teaching you the right way which you should go.  He is searching and purging your hearts, and cleansing you from your secret faults, and teaching you to know who you are and to know who he is—your Father, the knowledge of whom is life eternal.  By these things, my friends—by being brought low and made helpless, till ashamed of ourselves, and weary of ourselves, we lift up eyes and heart to God who made us, like lost children crying after a Father—by these things, I say, we live, and in all these things is the life of our spirit.