ARTICLE XXV.

The Temptations of Christ.1

1 By Dr. Adolf Hausrath, Professor in Ordinary of Theology, at the University of Heidelberg.

(Matthew iv. 1–11.)

THERE are two fundamental principles which constitute the cardinal points of the Christian's religious contemplation of the universe, viz. Faith in God and Faith in the Reality of the Ideal. The devout mind is not to be robbed of the conviction that once, at least, there was a time when purity and the possession of evenly-balanced powers and faculties could be claimed for human nature. Not simply as he is propagated in the natural order, with a mixture of the spiritual and the sensuous, of the higher and the lower; as a being that is continually growing and becoming, ever striving and yet incomplete; not simply as we know man, racked by the force of life's circumstances, chained to this clod of earth, and as a mere fragment of something that is complete; as a being degenerated by the force of habit and perverted through the power of sin; no, but as a man, as a being ought to be that is created in God's image, and is not a caricature of something that is perfect. The desire to find this ideal constitutes nothing less than a profound and painful longing of the human heart. Even the boy faintly discerns the holy and exalted forms of such an ideal, and while eagerly reading his book of heroes, is often led to believe that he has found it. Now in this one, then in that one of his companions, he thinks he has discovered the one who answers to the dream of his child years. But ere long the sorrowful hour of disappointment fails not in coming, the halo that encircled the head of his friend is dissipated, and soon the painful truth becomes apparent that his friend is just as poor and infirm as other mortals.

But after all the voice that is in us will not always remain silent, and no human child is born so poor and infirm that it will not be able to perceive its tones. Indeed, our friendship,

our love, on what else do they live and find nourishment, but on and in the faith that even in this world the ideal can yet be realized. And we are taught by this that the most lamentable degradation of human nature, however proud you may be of that nature, is exhibited, when you have converted yourself to the belief that virtue is only an empty dream, and the picture here presented is only the illusion of inexperienced youth. But where have we found this image most alive? Whither may the voice of the heart, that is so mighty and so holy, guide us? We who are Christians, believe that they point to Jesus of Nazareth, who laid down his life for the righteousness of many. We have no choice left us in this matter. We must either ignore this voice, or allow it to direct to Christ; for I known not to whom else it can refer. Hence we believe that in Christ the ideal has become a reality.

But that which we seek is not a dead ideal, nor a god enclosed in a phantom body, who has passed through all the conditions of this world, through such a life as ours; but we would rather seek an image that bears a close resemblance to us, that felt and realized as we feel and realize, one that struggled and endured as we struggle and endure, "bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh." Hence it is that Christ stands so near to us, and we can say with the author of Hebrews, "For we have not a high priest that cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, but one that hath been in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin." And herein lies the power of his example in that he himself realized the very same sufferings on account of which he would comfort us, and that he himself has endured the very same temptations which he bids us resist.

But the things which we call temptations were surely not temptations such as came to Jesus. If our inner life were nothing but a wrestling place of sensual desires, we might say it was a temptation, but really it is nothing less than sin itself. No one will presume to attribute such feelings to the heart of Jesus, nor look on him as a man who, by painful efforts, maintained his virtue. Yet his temptations were not such as seemed

desirable to common sinful and corrupt human nature.

Had

we been tempted as he was, it would have been no sin in us. And yet there is great weight in the words of the Scriptures: "One that hath been in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin." Still we do not desire to turn the evangelist's account into a mere shadow picture. Those ways that lay so temptingly before him, when he commenced his mission, must surely have seemed to him very desirable, even though he never raised a foot in order to tread them. And even had he followed them, they would have been wrong ways to him, and diverted him from his true calling, though to us they might have appeared as paths of virtue.

This twofold peculiarity of the temptations of Jesus is indeed deserving of further consideration.

I. "If thou art the Son of God, command that these stones become bread." This was the tempter's first effort. But we are constrained to ask, In what did the temptation consist? If it were only the desire to satisfy a momentary want, then this temptation seems to be something more suitable to be held out to children than to the Saviour of the world. But if it is an act of necessity, necessary to preserve life, why then I am unable to see wherein lies the sin. Hence more is meant by the word bread than simply food that is to be eaten. Man's bread is his house and hearth, his wife and child, his possessions and his happiness, in fact all that contributes to his comfort and well-being. To use the heavenly gifts bestowed for higher purposes in order to minister to sensuous pleasures, becomes often a great temptation, and really signifies more than to desire bread when one is hungry. This was the same kind of a temptation which confronts every one as he begins a high career, and just such a temptation as Christ encountered. In fact it was a temptation of an entirely different kind from that mentioned in the Greek fable, where Hercules is called on to choose between virtue and vice. Such a choice was never set before Christ. No, it was reserved for him to choose between the joyous life and customs in which the divine will had placed him, and the difficult and almost hopeless road

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that led to Golgatha. On which side now do we find the temptation? There was a choice. His mind, swayed by surging billows of thought, led him into the desert, where he lingered in solitude for forty days, meditating on the plan that should necessarily make his life a lonesome one. Here during that time he saw no friendly human countenance, and he now began to experience a foretaste of his painful career. "He was with the wild beasts," says one evangelist; "the birds have their nests and the foxes their dens, but the son of man hath not where to lay his head." And he felt that as were these forty days, so should be his life; that wherever he may be, while engaged in this calling, he will be in the desert, a suffering one in the midst of affluence, a lonely wanderer in the busy marts of traffic. He will travel up and down the country, plucking his food from the trees that grow by the roadside; he will hide himself as he hears the foolish imprecations of the multitude, and as he discerns the evil intentions of the leaders of the people. He will seek rest with the poorest of the land, if not with the beasts. There will be no friend at hand to help him bear even half his sorrows. Alone, by himself, and yet carrying the world in his heart. No one to help and comfort him by day, nor watch with him in the night in Gethsemane. Aye, there were those who were very near to him, who accompanied him on his wanderings, how much he had to say to them, but they were not able to understand and to bear it!

Such thoughts as these might possibly, in all their bitterness, rise up before him, especially as he had fasted forty days in the desert, and was suffering with hunger. Then there arose in him the desire for that which makes life worth living for man, after that which is daily bread to our soul, and without which it must necessarily perish. "If thou art the Son of God?" resounded the voice on all sides of him, and as it continued it seemed more dismal than if it had proceeded from the last of mortals.

Yet all this lay within his reach, just as it did to any mortal under the sun. In order to make bread out of stones all

that was necessary for him to do was to use his wonderful gifts What a fulness of domestic comfort and pure human joys was it not in his power to attain! And why should he not give ear to this voice of his heart? Is it not inwoven with everything that since the days of his childhood was to him lovely and holy? Why should he not wend his way to the homes of the companions of his childhood? Would not his father and mother shed tears of joy when they saw him return to the ways and callings of other men, and use his heavenly gifts in advancing worldly industries? Prosperity and riches would then pour on him, he would become the pride of his family, the ruler of his native city, and instead of being a homeless wanderer, it now lies in his power, with father and mother, brothers and sisters, to establish a sanctuary of family life such as would really be blessed of God. But on the other hand, should he not see fit to return, he must surely give up all these hopes and all that he dearly loved and cherished. The mother's tears flow on behalf of the child, the jeers of his playmates pursue the carpenter's son. His nearest relatives pursue him, and announce that he is possessed. And when perchance on a certain day his mother and brethren announce themselves at the door of the house where he found a temporary abode, he asks the question, "Who is my mother, and who are my brethren?" And shall not he who sees so clearly into the future, have permission to choose? Why should it be a temptation, why a sin, to choose the side of natural comforts and enjoy peaceful possession of them? For this reason, replied the Saviour, "Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God." This is the true word of the Spirit to us, this is real life to man, true bread to the soul. Woe would there have been to him had he disregarded the message that God had sent to his heart! And woe be to every one who turns away from his ideal in order to serve Mammon. Woe be to every one who carries the conviction in his consciousness that he is fitted by God for a certain calling, but who for the sake of earthly advantage heeds not that