And as they were afraid, and bowed down their faces to the earth, they said unto them, Why seek ye the living among the dead?— St. Luke xxiv, 5.
Joseph of Arimathea waited for the Kingdom of God. God, so he read, so he believed, is the Living God, the Author of life to all things, the Renewer of life day by day. God, so he read and believed, called out the seed of Abraham to be the witnesses of Him against all dead gods—all gods who cannot impart life, who can only be endued with the semblance of life by those who worship them. Yet Death had triumphed over the works of God’s hands. Death had triumphed over all men whom God had made in His image. There had come into the world One who spoke of Life, Eternal Life; One who said that God had sent Him to bestow this Life on men. And now Death had laid hold of Him. In the darkest form it had come to Him, He had not driven it back. He had cried out in agony, ‘My God, why hast thou forsaken me?’ He had been taken down from the Cross. There could be no doubt that His Spirit had gone. His body was laid in the tomb hewn out of the rock. The waiting, therefore, had to all appearance been in vain. There was a Kingdom of Death; that was universal. How could there be a Kingdom of God, in the sense in which prophets had spoken of it, in which Jesus had borne witness of it? The women who had watched beside the Cross rested the Sabbath day, according to the commandment. Could it have been rest? Yes, the unrest of vague expectation was over. The death which they thought must be averted, in which they could not believe, had actually come. There is a kind of rest in that necessity. The Sabbath, dull and leaden as it may have looked, at least said: ‘The struggle is past. Nothing that you can do will bring Him back.’ If you say rest without hope is impossible, that may be true also. I think it is. The Sabbath spoke of God. While they kept the commandment, there was a dim sense that He was still the living God. If He was, there must be hope.
I. ‘Now upon the first day of the week, very early in the morning, they came unto the sepulchre, bringing the spices which they had prepared, and certain others with them. And they found the stone rolled away from the sepulchre. And they entered in, and found not the body of the Lord Jesus. And it came to pass, as they were much perplexed thereabout, behold two men stood by them in shining garments: and as they were afraid, and bowed down their faces to the earth, they said unto them, Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen: remember how he spake unto you when he was yet in Galilee, saying, The Son of man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again.’
If this were true, if it could be true, the message of a Kingdom of God might not be a mere dream; the witness which the Sabbath bore to a communion between man and God, in rest and in work, might not have deceived them. You think these poor women may not have known all the reasons which have induced learned men to say that it could not be true. Oh, my friends, does not every woman and every man carry within a sense of the power of death which is stronger than all these arguments, which really gives them their weight? Death does not want philosophers to assist him in proving how invincible he is. He makes the peasant understand that well enough. And if either peasant or philosopher ever understands anything else—if either peasant or philosopher is led to protest, ‘Death cannot be the Lord of this living universe—Death cannot be, and shall not be, my Lord,’—it must be, I suspect, because there are other voices besides his speaking to the heart of every man, which he must listen to, even when he is most inclined to turn away from them.
Did the voices come to these women only from those two persons in shining garments who were sitting in the tomb? If the Resurrection were a truth, it was no contradiction that such persons should speak to them, for then the visible and the invisible world cannot be hopelessly divided. But angel voices saying, ‘He is risen,’ could not of themselves break the strong spell of custom—could not of themselves answer the cry of the heart, ‘It cannot be. The news is too good to be true. We dare not trust to it.’ No! if this marvellous report of the women, told in such plain words as these, urging no probabilities in its favour, has defied the opposition of Jewish and of Gentile scorn—of all the power of Jewish and Gentile priests as well as rulers—if it has established itself in the heart and conscience of the most civilised countries of the world—if it has moulded their civilisation, transfigured their art, changed the thought and tone of all books, won priests and rulers to lend their very questionable, often their very mischievous aid, in enforcing the belief which made its way in defiance of those to whose functions they have succeeded—if all this has come to pass, the echo of those angel voices which spoke to the women cannot be all that has been ringing through these ages. Other messengers, whose shining garments could not be seen, must have been holding converse with the hearts and consciences of the sons of earth. A man is sometimes heard crying in his despair, ’I am told that I must believe this news of a Resurrection; that men will punish me here, that: God will punish me hereafter, if I do not.” But I cannot. Millenniums of deaths, the sights of daily corpses, prevail against all your arguments, all your terrors. There comes to that man a message: it may be brought by books or pictures, by sunset or sunrise, by the spring that maketh all things new; it may be brought by the remembrance of mothers, by the pressure of hands that are cold, by the conviction that poverty and injustice cannot be for ever. But however it reaches him, this is the tenor of it: Brother man, He is risen. The God of Life does not force thee to think so by threats of destruction. He sends thee the good news that death and destruction have tried their power against the Son of Man, thy Lord, and that they have not prevailed, and shall not prevail.” Is not that an angel message, a still small voice, but bearing a witness of its origin which the storm and the earthquake do not bear?
II. ‘And they remembered his words, and returned from the sepulchre, and told all these things unto the eleven, and to all the rest. It was Mary Magdalene and Joanna, and Mary the mother of James, and other women that were with them, which told these things unto the apostles. And their words seemed to them as idle tales, and they believed them not.’
The disciples describe themselves as incredulous. Modern critics say that men such as they were must have been credulous. ‘Would they not have had the superstitions of their country? Did they not belong to the most ignorant part of it? Did they not think that their Master was like no other man, and that all the laws of the universe would be cast aside in His favour?’ Assuredly they had all the superstitions of their country; an unspeakable dread of death, asense of the power of death and of darkness would be the strongest of these superstitions. A glimpse into the secrets of the unseen world, an apparition coming from it, this they were not unlikely to accept. This they tell us they did accept as possible when they saw their Master. They had no doubt believed that their Master was different from other men. They had thought that He had saved others, and would certainly save Himself. He had not done it. There had been no exception in His favour. Death had met Him as he meets other men, only in a more ghastly form. What is more, these Galileans, with their partial notions of Him, went forth, saying, ‘This Resurrection is not an exception in His favour. His Resurrection is yours. He has overcome death and the grave for you, Jews and Greeks, barbarians and Scythians, bondsmen and freemen.’ This was the Gospel which they preached. With this they encountered the magicians, enchanters, the death-worshippers of all kinds who were spread through the Jewish and Gentile worlds. With this they became instruments in establishing the society of modern Europe. Must they not be honest when they tell us that the words which were the warrants for such convictions, which led to such effects as these, seemed to them at first as idle tales, that they believed them not?
III. How, then, was the incredulity overcome? St. Luke tells us a simple story which explains the alteration, which I think, no arguments have ever explained:
‘And, behold, two of them went that same day to a village called Emmaus, which was from Jerusalem about threescore furlongs. And they talked together of all these things which had happened. And it came to pass, that, while they communed together and reasoned, Jesus himself drew near, and went with them. But their eyes were holden that they should not know him. And he said unto them, What manner of communications are these that ye have one to another, as ye walk, and are sad? And the one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answering said unto him, Art thou only a stranger in Jerusalem, and hast not known the things which are come to pass there in these days? And he said unto them, What things? And they said unto him, Concerning Jesus of Nazareth, which was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people: And how the chief priests and our rulers delivered him to be condemned to death, and have crucified him. But we trusted that it had been he which should have redeemed Israel: and beside all this, to-day is the third day since these things were done. Yea, and certain women also of our company made us astonished, which were early at the sepulchre; and when they found not his body, they came, saying, that they had also seen a vision of angels, which said that he was alive. And certain of them which were with us went to the sepulchre, and found it even so as the women had said: but him they saw not.’
These two disciples had talked much with each other, had tried to put facts together, had considered what glimpses of hope the women’s story afforded. No light had come to their minds. It was all sadness and perplexity. The Stranger who joins them seems chiefly anxious to draw out their thoughts, to let them express all which is troubling them. But when He has done that, He appears suddenly to assume the right of a reprover and a Judge.
‘O fools, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and to enter into his glory?’ ‘Did you think that He was to redeem Israel, and that He was not to struggle with the enemies who held Israel in slavery? Did you think He was to be a King, and that He was not to suffer with His subjects? Is not that the path which all the prophets and kings have travelled? Has not that been the way to their triumph? Did they not teach you that the King, the Prophet, was to do and suffer perfectly what they had done and suffered imperfectly?’
‘And beginning at Moses and all the prophets, he expounded unto them in all the scriptures the things concerning himself. And they drew nigh unto the village, whither they went: and he made as though he would have gone further. But they constrained him, saying, Abide with us: for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent. And he went in to tarry with them.’
So the dead letters of Scripture which these disciples had mused on so often, which had been interpreted to them by so many scribes, started into life. What had been maxims, or dogmas, or allegories, became portions of a human and divine history. A Person was the centre of that history, One who as the Book said had been, and was, and would be. But where was He now? Could the Stranger tell them? To know that would be more than to trace Him through all the records of other days.
‘And it came to pass, as he sat at meat with them, he took bread, and blessed it, and brake, and gave to them. And their eyes were opened, and they knew him; and he vanished out of their sight. And they said one to another, Did not our heart burn within us, while he talked with us by the way, and while he opened to us the scriptures? And they rose the same hour, and returned to Jerusalem, and found the eleven gathered together, and them that were with them, saying, The Lord is risen indeed, and hath appeared to Simon. And they told what things were done in the way,’ and how he was known of them in breaking of bread.” Thus were these disciples prepared to believe in a Resurrection. There was a Christ. He ought to have suffered. That must be the way to His Kingdom. And this Christ was with them. They might know Him. He ate their bread. He blessed it. Did He only while they saw Him? Did He not bless their bread always? Did not their hearts burn while He told them how He had been the same throughout all ages? He could be no apparition. They might go and tell the disciples at Jerusalem that He was among them, a living Person in a living body.
IV. The Apostles, too, were beginning to believe. But the feeling or dream of an apparition which might just for a moment have looked upon them out of a world of shadows still haunted their minds, still quenched the acknowledgment of a substantial Presence.
‘And as they thus spake, Jesus himself stood in the midst of them, and saith unto them, Peace be unto you. But they were terrified and affrighted, and supposed that they had seen a spirit. And he said unto them, Why are ye troubled? and why do thoughts arise in your hearts? Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I myself: handle me, and see; for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see me have. And when he had thus spoken, he showed them his hands and his feet. And while they yet believed not for joy, and wondered, he said unto them, Have ye here any meat? And they gave him a piece of a broiled fish, and of an honeycomb. And he took it, and did eat before them.’
‘They supposed they had seen a spirit.’ How naturally does St. Luke describe just the confused apprehensions which have haunted men in all ages. They think they see spirits. Every hour they are conversing with spiritual beings. Every message of affection which reaches us is a spiritual message. Every word which depresses or elevates us comes not from a material, but from a spiritual source. Our consciences and our reasons are ours, because we are spiritual; we address the conscience and reason of other men because we own them to be spiritual. But what we see are the lips that move, are the hands and the feet. Our Lord teaches them that it is so with Himself. He stands among them, and says, ‘Peace be unto you.’ That was the voice of a Spirit speaking to their spirits. But He says, ‘Handle me, and see; for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see me have.’ He had an actual body. He had brought it back from the grave. There was nothing shadowy or fantastic in it. Now, as before, it could eat the food which they ate. Nothing clears our minds of the phantoms that are always floating between earth and heaven—not really approaching either—like this simple teaching. The Son of God speaks to the poorest men as spiritual creatures to whom He may declare the Kingdom of Heaven, who are capable of entering into such a Kingdom, who cannot exist without it. The Son of God says to the poorest man, ‘Brother, child of God, peace be unto thee.’ But He shows His hands and feet, that it is He Himself. He eats the broiled fish and the honeycomb. The body is real as well as the spirit. The body is redeemed from death as well as the spirit.
V. ‘And he said unto them, These are the words which I spake unto you, while I was yet with you, that all things must be fulfilled, which were written in the law of Moses, and in the prophets, and in the psalms, concerning me. Then opened he their understanding, that they might understand the scriptures, and said unto them, Thus it is written, and thus it behoved Christ to suffer, and to rise from the dead the third day: and that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in his name among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. And ye are witnesses of these things.’
It is for this that He has been preparing them through the years of teaching and discipline that He has spent with them on the Lakes of Galilee, in the streets, and in the Temple of the Holy City. They were not chosen to be His favourites. They were chosen to carry a message to the Universe. All that had been written in the days of old, all that He had spoken to them, was that they might go forth and say to Jews, to Greeks, to men at the farthest ends of the earth: ‘Your Father is seeking you. You may turn to Him. He sends you deliverance from your sins.’ In Jerusalem, where the greatest of all sins had been committed, where the King Himself had been slain, they were to begin their work. They were to announce, as the first token and pledge of the glorified King, that those who had been guilty of that treason were pardoned, that they might receive His highest gift, the gift of His own Spirit.
VI. That gift they were themselves to wait for: Behold, I send the promise of my Father upon you: but tarry ye in the city of Jerusalem, until ye be endued with power from on high.’ Every day as they went forth would show them their need of that power. If they were not messengers from a Father in Heaven, if they could not declare His will to men, if He was not working in men to do it, all they spoke would be ineffectual — their own words would confound them.
VII. ‘And it came to pass, while he blessed them, he was parted from them, and carried up into heaven. And they worshipped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy. And were continually in the temple, praising and blessing God.’ With great joy, though this Jesus, from whom all their joy had sprung, was departed out of their sight. With joy, because that Jesus had claimed His right as the Christ, because He had shown that He had come from a Father, and had done the will of His Father. With joy, because Death and Hell were shown to be His Father’s enemies, and He had vanquished them. With joy, because, being delivered from those enemies, they could serve God without fear in holiness and righteousness all the days of their life.
That was the promise in the song of Zacharias which we read in the first chapter of this Gospel. That is the promise which we have seen unfolding itself to the last words of the Gospel. I think you will see that it is what it professes to be, the Gospel of the Kingdom of Heaven. If we have been enabled to trace together the steps of the King from the message which came to the Virgin in Galilee to the time when He sat down on His Father’s throne, I am sure that every event which has befallen us of sorrow and joy will have been explaining the news to us as no words can explain it, that it will have brought evidence to us of its veracity which arguments cannot bring. ‘The acts of God are the true commentaries on His Word. For He is with us to interpret both, who joined the two disciples when they talked together and were sad. He can make Himself known to us in the breaking of bread. He can enable us to praise and bless God through Him whilst we are worshipping here, and in that city where the Apostle saw no Temple, for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it.’