The Man of Galilee

by Atticus G. Haygood

It is indeed a rare thing that the “common people” hear “gladly” a teacher of science, philosophy, or religion whom the uncommon people call great. As a rule, the greater one is, as men measure greatness, the less do “common people” hear him “gladly,” and least of all when he speaks or writes upon the very greatest of themes. Is it because such teachers are not themselves brothers to the common people? One reason is the great men do not truly understand what they teach. And herein is a reason for patience.

Perhaps, for the most part, the great ones do the best they can. It seems that, when a mere man seeks to think profoundly or to speak strongly, he must fall into obscurity. This obscurity cannot be due to any inherent difficulty in the truth itself, but to those limitations, mental and spiritual, that belong to mere human teachers. But Jesus taught the greatest truths in language as simple and clear as when he spoke of the most familiar duties of daily life. His manner is as easy and his words as plain when speaking of immortality as when telling men to be honest and to “love one another.”

Compare the Sermon on the Mount and the writings of the greatest and best of men who have discoursed upon these themes. How perfectly simple and transparent and easy the manner and style of Jesus! How complex and dark and difficult the manner and style of men! How it should shame mere men into meek simplicity when they read of Jesus, the divine Teacher, “The common people heard him gladly!”

After all, it may be that our method of thought is as unfitted for understanding the Gospel as our method of teaching is unfitted for expounding it. It may be that if we worried ourselves less with what men have written of his words—too often trying to read into his teachings thin philosophies; if we brooded more upon his words and less upon men’s notions of his words, we would understand Jesus better. Then we also could teach the people. Then, it may be, the “common people” would hear us “gladly.” If we preached his “text” more and books about his “text” less we would preach more truth that saves and less philosophy that bewilders.

In speaking of the method and manner of Jesus there is another matter, not easy to discuss, that should be mentioned; I refer to the effect upon himself of his thoughts and words.

There is a divine calmness in him never seen in mere men; that is impossible to them. In this also he stands apart from men.

His greatest discourses are without intellectual heats. This is very wonderful to me. He shows himself to be the tenderest-hearted teacher who ever sought to lead men out of darkness into light. We know that he is not cold of heart; we know how deep is his compassion on men; how infinite his concern for them. But he delivers the most tremendous truths with the most perfect composure and balance of spirit. If a mere man were to see clearly for the first time what the Sermon on the Mount, the third chapter of John, the parable of the Prodigal, and a score of other discourses and revelations like them really signify; if a mere man were, so to speak, to come suddenly upon such thoughts, such conceptions, so vast, deep and high, it would unbalance him. His brain would be on fire and his heart would break with holy excitement. But Jesus speaks these truths with perfect calmness; they were not new thoughts to him; there was no effort in order to grasp them or to express them. Yet Jesus was full of sympathy. He wept with the sisters at the grave of Lazarus and bewailed the fate of Jerusalem with sobs and tears.

You have read a story of Sir Isaac Newton, which, whether it be historically true or false, well illustrates, for it is very like a man, what is here brought to your attention, as showing how Jesus differs from a mere man. When Sir Isaac had nearly finished his deep and long-continued studies of the laws which govern the movement of the heavenly bodies, and was near enough the end of his great mathematical calculations to foresee the result and to realize that it would justify his sublime speculations concerning the controlling law of the material universe, he became so excited—cold philosopher and trained to self-control as he was—that he could not complete the simple processes involved in his formula. It was necessary to call in a friend to finish the easy work for him; for the moment the great astronomer was out of balance.

Sir Isaac’s was exactly a mere man’s way; great inventors have gone mad when they were within one step of triumph.

But Jesus was calm when speaking, in the simplest way, of the greatest truths of life and the most stupendous events that await eternity for their unfolding.