Chapter 29

CHRIST THE JUDGE OF THE WORLD.

§ 1. The Coming of Christ is not wholly future, not wholly outward, not local, nor material.

It is a curious fact that, in direct contradiction to Christ’s own explanations concerning his coming, this should frequently be considered by the Orthodox, (1.) as wholly future; (2.) as wholly outward; (3.) as local; (4.) as bodily and material.

It cannot be wholly future, for if it were, Jesus was mistaken in saying of the signs of his coming, “This generation shall not pass away until all these things be fulfilled.” (Mark 13:30.)

Nor can it be wholly outward, for if it were, Jesus was mistaken when he declared of the signs of his coming, “The kingdom of God cometh not with observation” (Luke 17:20); “The kingdom of God is within you ” (Luke 17:21); “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36). See also Mark 4:26,27, and Matt. 13:33, where his kingdom is compared with seed sprouting and leaven working secretly.

Nor is Christ’s coming local, that is, in a certain place, for if it were, Jesus was mistaken in telling his disciples not to believe those who said, “Lo, here!” or “Lo, there!” not to go into the desert when men say, “Behold, he is there,” and not to believe those who declare that he is hidden somewhere in the city, for that the coming of the Son of man should be like that of the lightning, which shines all round the sky, and seems to be everywhere at once. (Matt. 24:26.)

And if not local, neither can it be a bodily coming; for all bodily coming must be in some one place. Since, therefore, Jesus distinctly denies that his coming is to be “here” or “there,”—that is, local,—it must be a spiritual coming, a coming in spirit and in power. All the material images connected with it—the clouds, the trumpet, &c.—are to be considered symbolical. The “clouds of heaven” may symbolize spiritual movements and influences; the “trumpet,” the awakening power of new truth.(40)

§ 2. No Second Coming of Christ is mentioned in Scripture.

It is also a remarkable fact that only one coming of Christ is mentioned in the New Testament. Orthodoxy speaks continually of Christ’s _second_ coming, but without any warrant. It assumes that the manifestation of Jesus in the flesh was his first coming as the Christ, and that consequently the predictions (in Matt. ch. 24, and the parallels) _must_ refer to a second coming. Hence the phrase “second coming” has been introduced, and naturalized in theology. But, in truth, the life of Jesus on earth was not regarded as his coming as the Messiah.(41) What the disciples expected was his manifestation or investiture as the Messiah, which evidently had not taken place at the time of their conversation. And this was to be, not “at the end of the world,” but _at the end of the age_. They, like other Jews, divided time into two periods, “the present age,” or times previous to the Messiah, and “the coming age,” or times of the Messiah’s reign. When, therefore, Jesus was with them, only teaching and healing, they did not at all consider him _to have come_ as the Messiah. But when he spoke of the destruction of the Temple, as _that_ indicated the end of the existing economy, they understood it to be synchronous with his coming as the Christ. So they said, “What shall be the sign of thy COMING, and of the END OF THE AGE?” And so through the Epistles, when the “coming of Christ” is spoken of, is meant his manifestation in the world as the Messiah. This was a single event, to take place once, not to be repeated. Such a thing as “Christ’s _second_ coming” is unknown to the Scriptures.(42)

§ 3. Were the Apostles mistaken in expecting a speedy Coming of Christ?

It is often said that the apostles themselves were mistaken in expecting a speedy coming of Christ. No doubt they did expect his speedy coming, and with reason; for he himself had told them that the existing generation should not pass away till all those things were fulfilled. Therefore they were justified in looking for a near coming of Jesus as the Christ. We admit that they expected his speedy coming; but we think they were not mistaken, for he did come. He came, though not perhaps in the manner they anticipated. Possibly they interpreted too literally what he said concerning his coming.

For though Christ spoke so much in symbols and parables, literal people took him literally. And so they do still. When he said that except men ate his flesh and drank his blood they could not be his, the literalists said, “_How_ can this man give us his flesh to eat?” And so many persons still think that somehow Christ’s actual body is to be eaten in the Lord’s supper. So, when he said that the Son of man should be seen “coming in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory, and send his angels with the sound of a trumpet, and gather his elect from the four winds,” they took it literally. His apostles, even, may have supposed that he was to be seen up in the air in physical form,(43) and that a material trumpet was to be blown. But all this was the flesh, the garb of his thought. The spirit of his thought only is of value; the flesh profits nothing. The apostles were wrong in supposing—if they did suppose it—that Christ was to come in their day in the air, in an outward physical fashion, with an outward noise, making a great demonstration to the senses of sight and hearing. Christ never came so, and he never will come so. The only coming of Christ possible is spiritual coming, for Christ is spirit. He did come, therefore, in the days of the apostles, in the great access of faith and power in their own souls, and in the souls of those whom they converted. He came in power and great glory, when his truth came to human minds, and his love to human hearts. He sent his angels then, and gathered his elect from the four quarters of the heavens. When Paul was converted, Christ came to him; when the negro chamberlain of the Queen of Ethiopia was converted, Christ came to him; when the people of Ephesus and Corinth, Philippi and Rome, were converted, Christ came to them. The trumpet sounded, but it was in their souls that it sounded; the angels summoned the elect, but these angels were the convictions sent into their reason, and the longings awakened in their hearts.

Materialists and Literalists are always the same. The apostles soon rose out of their literalism, and soon spoke of Christ as being revealed _within_ them, not outside of them; dwelling, not in the air, but in their hearts. But literalists, down to this day, have always imagined the coming of Christ to be to the senses, rather than to the soul. They do not see that a great noise in the air is not so glorious a thing as a voice heard in the depths of the heart, and a great outward conflagration somehow seems to them more imposing than the burning up of falsehood and sin in the world. So we are always hearing people predict that Christ is to come in 1846, or 1856, or 1866, meaning thereby that they expect some great outward event then, visible to eyes and ears. “Fools, and slow of heart,” not to see that the only possible coming of Him who is spirit and love is a coming in the soul, and that he has come, and is coming, and is to come more and more abundantly, from day to day. So they read about the heavens and earth being burned up, and of a new heavens and earth; and they imagine that the sky is somehow to be burned with material fire, and the surface of the earth to sink into the flaming abyss beneath us. But if this should happen, _that_ would have nothing to do with the coming of Christ. The heavens and earth which he consumes with the breath of his mouth, and destroys with the brightness of his coming, are the religions and moralities, the institutions and works, of men. And the new heavens and new earth which take their place are the higher, nobler, purer religions and moralities which flow out of the Spirit of Christ.

§ 4. Examination of the Account of Christ’s Coming given by Jesus in Matthew (chapters 24-26).

A great difficulty in regard to the coming of Christ is to combine in one view the different notions given in Scripture concerning it. Many of these ideas indicate that the coming of Christ took place at the destruction of Jerusalem, as, for example, the description of wars, destruction of the Temple, and especially the declaration that “this generation shall not pass away till all these things be fulfilled.” On the other hand, the coming of Christ is expressly connected, in our translation, with “the end of the world,” and with the general judgment. Hence a difficulty in interpreting these passages, some persons thinking that the coming of Christ took place at the destruction of Jerusalem; others thinking that it is yet to take place at the end of the world; others, again, maintaining two or more comings of Christ; and others spiritualizing the whole of it, and making it mean the spread of the spirit of Christianity.

Let us, therefore, examine the passage in which Christ’s coming is spoken of, and endeavor to find its natural and obvious meaning, and so see how far the common Orthodox conception is correct.

The subject is not unimportant. Several chapters in the Gospel of Matthew (24-26) are devoted to the description of this event. All of the Epistles contain frequent allusions to it. The apostles unquestionably expected Christ’s coming in their day, and they had a right to do so, inasmuch as Jesus himself had distinctly said that their generation would not pass away till all was fulfilled. And in the main fact they were not mistaken, however they may have been deceived, as we have before said, in taking too outward a view of the attending circumstances. For if Christ’s coming did not take place in their day, not only were they themselves mistaken on a most important point, but Jesus was mistaken likewise.

Some of the other points in the description of this event are these: Christ’s coming was to be like that of the thief in the night—that is, it was to be unexpected, and to take men unprepared. It was to be preceded by wars, commotions, and misery in every form; preceded also by the preaching of the truth in many lands. It was to be as difficult to locate Christ at his coming, as to fix the lightning, which comes out of the east and shines to the west. It was to be attended with great spiritual darkness, even in the minds of the wise and good. The sun, and moon, and stars of the moral world were to be darkened, and the powers of the heavens to be shaken; and of ten virgins, all going together to meet the bridegroom, half would be found spiritually asleep when he came. Christ’s coming would be especially judgment and punishment. He would part the sheep from the goats. He would consume with the brightness of his coming the man of sin. Such are some of the traits with which the coming of Jesus is described by himself and by his apostles. How are these to be reconciled with the facts, and what was his coming?

The best way to get at the facts is to begin at the beginning, and ask _what the disciples meant_ when they asked for the signs of Christ’s coming. They were sitting with Jesus on the Mount of Olives, looking across the valley between, at the Temple. They saw and admired the gorgeous magnificence of this vast edifice towering before them, white with marble and yellow with gold, against the deep blue sky of that sunny land, and as they admired it, Jesus told them that every stone of that divine structure should be cast down. And then they asked, “_When_ shall these things be? and what shall be the signs of thy coming, and of the end of the world?” What was the connection, in their minds, between the three events? Why should they have at once inferred that the destruction of the Temple was to take place at the coming of Christ, and that the coming of Christ was to take place at the end of the world? There was no connection at all, according to the common notions on this subject. If the coming of Christ was to be a great outward manifestation in the sky, to take place long after his death, after the lapse of thousands of years, and at the destruction of the visible universe, what had that to do with the Jewish Temple? or, indeed, what had that to do with any of their ideas concerning their Master? But the notion in their minds, when they asked the question, was something very different; not the present Christian idea, but the usual Jewish idea. They spoke as Jews, out of the notions of their day. Christ answered what was in their minds, not what is in ours. If we wish to know what he meant, we must place ourselves on their stand-point, look out of their eyes, and listen with their ears.

The coming of Christ had a very distinct meaning to the Jewish mind. It meant the manifestation of the Messiah, _as such_. It meant his coming to reign as king. It meant his manifestation in Judea, in Jerusalem, as the great Son of David, and the submission of the Jews, and Gentiles with them, to his authority. The disciples of Jesus, believing him to be the Christ, believed that he was to come as such. He had come as Prophet, as Teacher, as a worker of beneficent miracles, but he had not yet come as Christ, as King. They were not asking about any second coming after his death and resurrection, for they did not believe that he was to die. They were asking for his present triumphant manifestation and investiture as the Messiah.

Nor were they asking—as our translators make them ask—for “the end of the world.” But they were asking for the _end of the age_—that is, of the first age. We have said that the Jews divided all time into two great periods; one the age preceding the Messiah, the other the age of the Messiah. The first was called this age, or the present age; the other the coming age. The end of the first period and beginning of the second were called the ends of the age; as where Paul says, “These are written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the world are come;” and where he says that Christ has “now once appeared in the end of the world to put away sin.” These were the ideas of the Jews, as we know from history. When, therefore, Christ spoke of the overthrow of the Temple, they inferred that he was speaking of the beginning of the Messianic age; since the Temple would not be overthrown while the Jewish theocratic and Levitical government continued. Now, as the Jewish age did come to an end at the destruction of Jerusalem, and Christianity, as the universal religion, took the place of Judaism in the education of the human race, this really was the coming of the Messiah and the end of the age.

We understand, therefore, Christ to have been really speaking of his coming, as an event soon to take place, and which did soon take place, when, at the destruction of Jerusalem, the Jewish Christians were scattered through the world, and Christianity took its place as a universal religion.(44) If this exhausted the meaning of the idea, it would be of very little interest to us. But the contents of the passage are more rich and full; and, like most of Christ’s sayings, besides its present and immediate application, it has more universal and far-reaching meanings. The principles of Christianity which were manifested then, continue to be manifested in other forms to-day. Jesus said on one occasion, “The hour is coming, and now is, when all that are in their graves shall hear the voice of the Son of man.” And on another occasion, “The hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father.” The hour had come in its first manifestation, but was to come again in other and richer manifestations of the same principle. So Christ himself came as King at the taking of Jerusalem, but has come since, again and again, more plainly and fully, in other triumphs of his truth, in other manifestations of his power. We believe that the coming of Christ took place at the destruction of Jerusalem. We believe that it has taken place since, in other historical events. We believe that it is to take place more fully hereafter, in this life and in the other life.

Let us look and consider how this may be.

§ 5. Coming of Christ in Human History at different Times.

As we look back through the eighteen centuries of Christian history, we can observe many events which may now be seen to have been each a coming of Christ. When, at the destruction of Jerusalem, the Mosaic theocracy went down before the iron power of Rome, amid those scenes of horror the firmest believers in Christ might have feared only evil. It seemed to be the overthrow of everything most sacred—the triumph of Paganism over the worship of Jehovah. Yet what was the result? Jesus then ceased to be the Jewish Messiah, and began to reign over all nations as the world-teacher, the Son of God, the prophet for mankind. Since then, more and more, the world has gone to him as to its great Master. This, therefore, was a coming of Christ.

Look again. The early centuries are disgraced with theological wars. Fierce conflicts are carried on about the Trinity, and the rank of Jesus in the universe. All regard for the pure, divine truth of Christianity seems forgotten in the fury of these controversies. Yet, nevertheless, amid all the absurdity and contradiction, one truth emerges, everywhere recognized—that in Jesus was something divine; that God was more fully manifest in him than elsewhere; that he is the moral image of the Infinite One. This is another coming of Christ. He comes now not merely as a prophet, but as the revealer of divine love and truth, in his own character. The theological doctrines, in which this truth has been wrapped, are the husks and shells which the world will throw away. But throughout Christendom the idea of God is derived from the character of Jesus, and in this way Jesus has come to rule the hearts of men as their divine King.

Other centuries passed by, and we find new and strange ideas taking possession of men’s minds. A horror of life, a dread of the sins of the world, drive men into the desert, to live as hermits and anchorites. Thousands and tens of thousands of monks withdrew from the world into the wilderness. All Christianity appeared to be changing into a new form of heathenish, self-inflicted torture. Its blessed humanity, its genial influences on social life, seemed to be fast disappearing. Nevertheless, out of all this error one truth emerged, one Christian idea was developed—that of self-discipline and self-culture. And in the development of this idea Christ came to reign _over the individual soul_ as its Master, Guide, and Redeemer from all sin.

After this arose the Papacy. The Church, as a powerful institution, became ambitious to rule the state and the world. A spiritual despotism appeared, surrounding itself with earthly splendor, grasping the sword of earthly power, and the farthest removed from the humble and gentle spirit of its Master. It would tolerate no opposition to its will, in high places or low. It hurled its thunders at the head of kings, and sent crusading armies to persecute and torture the peasants of the Piedmont valleys. Nothing could seem more full of the spirit of Antichrist than this spiritual despotism embodied in the Papacy. And yet, even through this evil there was developed a truth—that there was something in the world higher than kings, greater than the state. Papacy, with all its evils, was a standing proof, in an age of brute force, of the supremacy of mind over matter. So that, even here, the pride and selfishness of the priests and the popes have been overruled, in the providence of God, to give ascendency to a Christian idea, and to cause Christ to come as the King of the world.

Consider another important event in the history of Europe: the conversion of the barbarous tribes to Christianity. When the nations of the north poured from the forests of Germany and the deserts of Scandinavia over the Roman empire,—when Goths and Vandals, Franks, Lombards, and Normans, quenched the light of civilization and brought the dark ages over Europe,—how terrible seemed the gloom, and how hopeless the prospects, of the human race! But we now see the result in modern civilization. We see all these different nations subdued by the power of Christianity, and a new unity, a higher harmony, as the result. We see the great idea of the unity of the race, the harmony of nations, resulting from all this darkness and misery. So Christ has come again as the Prince of Peace, breaking down the partition walls, and proclaiming a brotherhood of man.

Let us look at one more event of history—the Lutheran Reformation. What evils attended it! What wars came out of it! How has the impulse to freedom given by Luther degenerated into licentiousness, run out in infidelity and unbelief! And yet, when we consider the ideas of personal responsibility and individual independence which have been born of it,—when we consider what an impulse it has given to thought, to free inquiry, to earnest investigation of truth, all the results of this fruitful principle,—we cannot doubt that this also was a coming of Jesus, the unfolding of a new and higher power in Christianity.

Thus has Christ come from age to age, and in the midst of apparent failure, increasing error, growing unbelief, and all forms of human wickedness, has acquired new power over the human mind. At the present day he is more the King of the world than ever. When he seems to go, then he comes. When iniquity most abounds, then he is nearest. When love grows cold in the hearts of his disciples, then a new impulse of faith is about to be given. When false prophets rise up and deceive many, then new champions of the truth are near at hand. Christ comes amid wars and persecutions. He comes unexpectedly, like the thief in the night; comes without observation; and while men say, “Lo, here!” and “Lo, there!” the kingdom of heaven is in the midst of them. He is not to be found in the desert, nor in the secret chambers; neither in public nor private; located neither in this nor that particular place; incarnate neither in this nor that particular person. But Christ comes like the lightning, seen over the whole heaven at once, in a new spirit pervading all parts of life, all parts of society.

§ 6. Relation of the Parable of the Virgins, and of the Talents, to Christ’s Coming.

We now see what is meant by the parable of the foolish and wise virgins, and of the talents, which follows it. We see their application to this description of Christ’s coming. If the coming of Christ be thus unexpected, he will not be recognized by the sleeping servant, nor by those who beat their fellow-servants. Slothful Christians who make no effort to improve, persecuting Christians who spend their time in denouncing heretics, and saying, “My Lord delayeth his coming,” never understand the signs of the times, nor recognize any new influx of divine light in the world. At each new coming of Christ those who have been faithful are rewarded by more light. To those who have, shall be given, and the faithless lose what they had before. From him who hath not, shall be taken away even what he seems to have. The capacity of seeing Christ when he comes, of recognizing him in any new manifestation of truth, depends on his previous fidelity.

§ 7. Relation of the Account of the Judgment by the Messiah, in Matt. ch. 25, to his Coming.

But what is meant by the judgment described in the 25th chapter of Matthew, commencing, “When the Son of man shall come in his glory, and all the angels with him, then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory, and before him shall be gathered all nations, and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth the sheep from the goats.” This stands in such close connection with what goes before, that many refer this also to the destruction of Jerusalem. But the moral meaning is so prominent, that others apply it entirely to the final judgment in the future life. The difficulties on both sides disappear if we reflect that the principles which govern this life and the next are identical—that whether Christ came at Jerusalem, comes to-day, or comes in the future life, the laws of Christian retribution are the same. Wherever Christ judges men, the sheep go to the right, and the goats to the left. The generous, humane, and disinterested hear always the words, “Come, ye blessed of my Father; inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.” The judgment in this world, it may be, is only heard in the depths of the soul. It may be that no other mortal knows of it. Still it is the voice of Christ which speaks. Still it is the real kingdom which they inherit. The judgment in the future life, may be or may not be, before assembled multitudes whom no man can number, and the kingdom then inherited may be one shared with the angels, and extending over worlds. Still the sentence is the same in both cases. The judgment of Christ is one in all worlds. It was, and is, and shall be. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever.

It may be said, this is to make the coming of Christ merely figurative—the coming of ideas and principles only; only the coming of his religion; and this is but an invisible abstraction. We reply, that according to our view, Christianity cannot be conceived of as an abstraction, apart from the person of Jesus, nor can his religion come unless he comes with it. Jesus is with us always, in the world always, and none the less really, because invisibly. It is no figure of speech to say that Christ is with his Church, and with his truth; that where it goes, he goes; that when he comes, it comes. It may even be that his presence will not always be an invisible one. It may be that what we now believe, we shall one day see and know. But then those only will recognize their Master’s presence who are awake and watching for him. To the others it will seem a mere illusion or enthusiasm.

§ 8. How Christ is, and how he is not, to judge the World.

In some places Jesus says that he is made Judge of mankind, and in other places denies that he is to judge any one. Take, for example, the following passages, selected because they seem to contradict each other. They are all in the Gospel of John, and therefore the contradiction is not in the different limitations or special misconceptions of the different evangelists. The passages are, John 3:17; 9:39; 5:22; 8:15; 12:47. The first is as follows: “For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved.” The word here translated “_condemn_” is precisely the same as that which elsewhere is translated “_judge_.” Consequently we should here read that God sent Christ into the world, not to judge the world, but to save it. But the next text referred to (John 9:39) is one in which Jesus says, “For judgment have I come into the world, that they which see not may see, and that they which see might be made blind.” Again (in John 5:22) it is said, that “the Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment unto the Son.” But in the following passage (John 8:15) Jesus says, “Ye judge after the flesh. I judge no man.” And in the last text he repeats the same idea. “And if any man hear my words and believe not, I judge him not; for I came not to judge the world, but to save the world.” We have, therefore, in these passages, this apparent contradiction—that the Saviour seems in some places to declare that he is to judge the world, and in others that he is not to judge the world. We therefore shall do well to inquire how these are to be understood, and in what way at all they are to be reconciled with each other, and with the common Orthodox doctrine concerning judgment.

And here we may remark, in passing, that there are many such seeming contradictions as these in the New Testament, and that to the student of the Gospels, who is a sincere seeker of truth, they are very precious and valuable. Such a one is always glad at finding statements in the New Testament which thus appear opposed to each other; for he knows, by experience, that they are the very passages from which he may learn the most, and where he will be likely to find some hitherto unnoticed truth concerning Christ or his gospel. Such truth, however, will not be found if he attempts to remove the contradiction by any artificial, hasty, or forced process. If his object is merely to find proof-texts in support of the doctrines he already believes, such paradoxes will afford him nothing but barren difficulties, and a sphere for the exercise of sophistry and misplaced ingenuity. But if he can bear to admit his ignorance, and is willing to examine these difficulties in order to correct his own errors, enlarge his own views, and learn something really new, he will often find here the clew to deeper insight and to a larger knowledge.

What, then, is the explanation of these passages? In what way is Christ to _judge_? How is it that he has come into this world for _judgment_? and how has the Father committed _all judgment_ unto the Son? and how, nevertheless, can be say, “_I judge no man; for I came not to judge the world_”?

Christ’s coming was simply to do good; to make men better; to save them from their sins; to reveal pardon; to offer salvation; to manifest God’s love. “The law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ.” It is the law, and not the gospel, which judges and condemns the evil-doer. The law given by Moses, or the law given in the conscience, in the reason, in the nature of things, written on the face of nature, written in the soul of man,—this law has not been made more strict by the coming of Christ. Men were bound before, by the law of nature and the law of Moses, to love God with all their heart, and their neighbor as themselves; and they are not bound to do more now. They were bound by nature and reason to obey their conscience, to do the best they could always, and they are not bound to do any more now. The whole influence of the gospel is a bountiful and gracious one, intended and adapted to make it easier to do right, to add new motives to virtue. Christ is no strict, severe judge, deciding by the letter of the law, bound by his office to show no favor or compassion, but the sinner’s advocate and friend. And hence it may truly be said that he came not to judge the world, but to save the world.

Nevertheless, it is also true that the greatest blessings and the best gifts of God are also judgments. They test the character. They show what it is. According to the state of mind and heart in which a man is, so does he receive, or reject, or neglect the offered good. If he loves light, he comes to the light. If he loves darkness, he goes away. If his deeds are good, he gratefully receives any revelation which brings him nearer to God. If his deeds are evil, he rejects such revelation, avoids it, dislikes the thought of it. So it necessarily is that the best and kindest of men who wishes only to do good to all, nevertheless, by his very presence and his offers of good, judges and condemns the wicked. But what are the judgment and the sentence? Simply this—that light has come into the world, and that they have chosen darkness rather than light, because their deeds are evil. Therefore it was necessarily the case that the coming of Jesus into the world was a judgment, and that though he everywhere went with the purpose of saving and blessing men, yet that he necessarily was also a judge. The thoughts of many hearts were revealed by his presence. The pure in heart came to him in humility, penitence, and faith. The proud in heart, the self-willed, the self-righteous, turned away from him, and so judged themselves unworthy of receiving his truth. The Galilean peasants, the common people, heard him gladly. The Scribes and Pharisees murmured against him and rejected him. This was really a judgment on both: the sheep went to the right hand, and the goats to the left. Thus it is a law of human nature that all high truth by its coming judges men, and shows by its influence upon them what is their real state. And in this way, as Christ’s truth was the highest of all, so he was, and is, a judge in the highest sense. But this is not quite all. The coming of such truth not only shows the good and evil which are in men, but it develops them, brings them out, increases the good, increases also the evil. It is necessarily so; it cannot be otherwise. When good comes to us, if it does not make us better, it makes us worse. Truth and goodness are like the magnet. They have two poles. They attract and they repel. Thus it was written that the coming of Jesus would be for the fall or the rising of many. Thus he said, “For judgment I have come into the world, that those which see not may see, and that those who see may be made blind.” Peter was made better, Judas was made worse, by being in the company of Christ. His coming was not only judgment, but also reward and punishment. He came to the fishermen of Galilee: they were pure in heart, they were lovers of truth and goodness, and his coming transformed them into apostles, saints, and martyrs. He came to the Scribes and Pharisees: they were not pure in heart. They were proud of their position, their influence, their piety, and his coming transformed them into murderers.

We are now prepared to decide what is meant by Jesus in saying that he came to judge the world, and yet that he came not to judge, but to save. It was not the purpose of his mission to judge. The direct object of his coming was not to judge, but to save; but indirectly, and as a matter of necessity, one of the consequences of his coming was, that men were judged by the word which he spoke, by the truth which he manifested, by the holiness of his life, by the bliss which he offered, and which they rejected. And yet it was true that he did not judge them, and that he did not mean to judge them. They were already judged by their own choice and determination. Therefore he says, “He who believeth not on me is judged already, because he hath not believed on the name of the only begotten Son of God.” It was not the will of Christ, but the truth itself, which pronounced the sentence upon him. “The word that I have spoken, the same shall judge him at the last day.” And thus it is said, that God is the Judge of all, and yet again, that the Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment unto the Son, and hath given him authority to execute judgment also, because he is the Son of man. The explanation is, that men are judged by the truth. But this truth is not abstract, but the truth embodied in the life and teaching of Jesus. God does not come into the world himself to show men their sins, but he embodies his truth and holiness in the life of his Son, and so judges the world.

In giving this explanation, we have looked steadily at the essential thing in judgment. We have regarded the substance, not the form. If we think of judgment as something outward, the judge seated on his throne, the criminal standing before him, and a formal sentence pronounced, of acquittal or condemnation, we confess that we should find it difficult to reconcile these different passages of Scripture, some of which declare that Christ is to be the judge, and others that he is not to be. But what is the essential thing in judgment? It is that justice shall be done, and that truth and right shall be vindicated; that the good shall be rewarded, and the wicked punished; that virtue and truth shall be seen and recognized in the consciences of men for what they are. This is the essential thing. _How_ this is done, whether in an open tribunal, before the assembled universe, or in the secret places of every man’s soul, belongs not to the essence, but to the form, and is comparatively unimportant.

§ 9. When Christ’s Judgment takes Place.

Nevertheless, there is a more important question to be answered in relation to the _time_ of judgment. When is the judgment? For it may be thought, from what we have said, that we consider judgment as taking place only in this world. But such is not the fact. Christ’s judgments take place at Christ’s coming, whether here or hereafter. Whenever Christ comes, he comes to judge. His first coming, in Judea, was a judgment; and he said, “_Now_ is the judgment of the world.” His coming judged all those who were near him; revealed the state of their minds and hearts; showed them what they were. Wherever he went, men arranged themselves at once according to their real characters, and the thoughts of many hearts were revealed.

It is true that people at that day did not understand that they were thus condemning themselves. They did not know that the awful judgment of God was being pronounced upon them; that they were standing before his bar in the presence of angels. They did not know that the day of judgment had come, and that they were giving an account of every idle word even then. But so it was. When they scoffed at Jesus and said, “He is a gluttonous man and a wine-bibber,” they may have forgotten their words almost before they left their mouths. But there they stand, recorded against them forever—an everlasting proof of their blindness of mind and their hardness of heart. When the penitent woman brought the ointment and anointed the feet of Jesus, and bathed them with her tears, little did she think that it was her day of judgment also, and that the approving sentence of her act would be read by angels in heaven and countless myriads on earth. None of them knew that it was a judgment then; but it was so.

But was that the only judgment? No; for whenever Jesus comes, he comes to judge; and since that, his first coming, he has come again and again to individuals and to the world, and every coming has been a new judgment on the state of the human mind and heart. It has therefore been well said, that the history of the world is the judgment of the world. And it is always true that this judgment is not understood when it is pronounced, but is seen and recognized afterwards. It is so with individuals; it is so with communities. Who is there who, in looking back over his past life, does not witness many an hour in which the truth has come to him, and he refused to admit it, and so sentenced himself to receive a lie? in which he has had opportunities of improvement, opportunities of doing good, and has refused to accept them, and so the talent has been taken from him and given to another. This is the judgment—that light has come into the world, and we have chosen darkness. At the time we did not know it: blinded by prejudice, heated by passion, we rushed recklessly on. But sooner or later comes the calm hour of recollection, and we see ourselves as we are.

But is this judgment which takes place in this world the only one? It is unreasonable to think so. There are, in fact, two extreme views on this subject. The views of those who say that all judgment is in this life, and the views of those who say that no judgment is in this life. The New Testament teaches that we are judged here, and that we are also judged hereafter. The coming of Christ is here, and also hereafter; and the judgment which commenced with his first coming will not be completed till all of us stand before the judgment seat to give an account of the deeds done in the body, whether they be good or evil. “It is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment.” There is a judgment in this life, and another to come. But those will be best prepared for that future judgment who understand the present judgment. Here is an example of the nature of the judgments which take place in this world.

In the year 1633, an old man was brought before the Court of the Inquisition, consisting of seven cardinals of the Roman Catholic Church, to hear a sentence and to pronounce a recantation. The crime he had committed was the publication of a book in the form of a dialogue, maintaining that the sun stood still, and that the earth moved; which proposition these holy cardinals pronounced to be absurd, false in philosophy, and formally heretical, seeing that it was expressly contrary to Holy Scripture. Whereupon they call upon him to abjure, execrate, and detest these errors and heresies; prohibiting his book and condemning him to confinement, with the penance of reciting once a week, for three years, the seven penitential psalms. And thereupon, this man, Galileo Galilei, of the age of seventy, on his knees, with his hands on the Gospels, abjures his opinion.

These seven cardinals thought that they were pronouncing sentence on Galileo and on the Copernican system. But, in reality, they pronounced sentence on themselves and their own church. They put it upon record forever, that the Roman Catholic Church, claiming to be infallible in matters of faith, had, by its highest judicature, declared the Copernican system a heresy, and thus declared its own claim to infallibility a lie. This was the condemnation—that light had come into the world, and they chose darkness rather than light.

So it is whenever a new truth comes into the world: it attracts the free-minded, the lovers of truth; it repels those bound by interest or passion. Those who believe, with Solomon, that a living dog is better than a dead lion, leave behind them the past, and with open eyes go forward, leaving the dead to bury the dead. Those who change the maxim, and love a dead dog more than a living lion, turn their backs to the east and to the rising sun, and hug their much-loved errors to their hearts. So the truth stands in their midst, awful in its beauty, and judges them—sending away its foes, drawing its friends to its embrace.

But it is not in abstract truth, whether of science or theology, that Christ comes to us now. It is in the truth in its concrete shape, embodied in the reforms which overthrow evil, in the great moral improvements which do away with the sin and woe of the world. Every new cause of this sort parts the sheep from the goats, and causes the thoughts of many hearts to be revealed. We do not mean to assert that all who sympathize with any particular reformatory measures, or any particular reformatory party, are on the side of Christ, and all who disapprove these measures, or this party, are against him. Such an assertion would be the sign of the narrowest bigotry or the most foolish ignorance of human nature. But we mean to say, that when any great human and moral movement comes to rouse men’s minds to a great evil—such as the evil of _war_, _slavery_, _intemperance_, _licentiousness_, _popular ignorance_, _pauperism_, _infidelity_, it is impossible for good men not to take an interest in it, and in their own way to aid it. If men neglect and ridicule such movements, find fault with all that is done, and do nothing themselves, they show thereby that they do not care so much for their brother’s happiness as for their own ease and comfort. In this way it becomes true that

“Some great cause, God’s new Messiah, offering each the bloom or blight, Parts the goats upon the left hand, parts the sheep upon the right, And the choice goes by forever ’twixt that darkness and the light.”

We read in the book of Acts, that after Paul and Barnabas had preached the gospel to the Jews in Antioch, the Gentiles were interested also, and great multitudes came together to hear the word of God. But when the Jews saw the multitudes, they were filled with envy, and contradicted Paul and blasphemed. Then Paul and Barnabas waxed bold, and said, “It was necessary that the word of God should be first preached to you; but since you put it from you, and _judge yourselves unworthy of eternal life_, lo, we turn to the Gentiles.” A hard judgment for a man to pronounce on himself—that he is not worthy of eternal life!

But do we not often all do the same? Christ comes to us in the form of a new truth, which will correct our errors and enlarge our hearts. But loving our own little creed better than the truth, we reject it without examination, and so judge ourselves unworthy of the light, strength, and peace it might bestow. Christ comes again in some opportunity of usefulness to our neighbor. But loving our own selfish ease, we excuse ourselves, and so judge ourselves unworthy of the happiness we should enjoy in doing the kind action. He comes in some deep conviction, calling us to a new life. We feel that we ought to leave our frivolity, and live for God and eternity—live for what is real and permanent. But we stifle these convictions, and go back to our old lives, and so judge that we are not worthy to become the friends and fellow-workers of Jesus, and companions of the pure and good. The great feast is ready, and the invitation is sent to us, and we, with one consent, begin to make excuse. Do we think that in that moment we are standing before the judgment seat of God, and pronouncing sentence on ourselves? It is our own heart that condemns us, and God, and Christ, and the everlasting truth of things must confirm the sentence.

§ 10. Paul’s View of the Judgment by Christ.

What were the views of the apostle Paul concerning a future judgment? One of the passages is in Romans. (2:5-16.) In this passage Paul describes a day, or time, when God should judge and bring to light the secrets of the human heart. He refers probably to the coming of Christ, as described in the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew. Christ’s coming is represented as “that day” the “day of judgment,” as, “it shall be more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrah in the day of judgment.” It was not, we have seen, as is commonly supposed, only a judgment in the other world after death, but also a judgment in this world. It was not when we should go to Christ in the other world, but when Christ should come to us in this world. It is spoken of as a particular day, or time, and, no doubt, it was thought at first by Paul, as by the other apostles, that the coming of Christ was to be sudden and outward—an imposing visible transaction. But, gradually, Paul’s views on this subject changed, under the influence of a growing spiritual insight. At first he interprets literally what Jesus says of his coming. But afterwards, in his later Epistles to the Ephesians and Colossians, he ceases to dwell on the outward coming, and speaks of the inward revelation of Christ in the heart—speaks of our now sitting in heavenly places with Christ. We may, therefore, suppose that the apostle believed the essence of the judgment to be in this—that either in this world or the next, or both, there shall be a revelation of God’s truth to the soul, so that every soul shall see itself as God sees it—see its own evil or good, and so be rewarded or punished by that sight. This idea is given by Jesus himself, in his description of the judgment which was to take place before that generation passed away—a judgment in which the Son of man should be seated on the throne of his glory, with all his angels, and all nations be collected before him. The judgment consists in showing to the good, that when they did anything good to man, they did it to Christ and God; and in showing to the bad, that when they refused anything to their poor brethren in want, they refused it to Christ and God. The judgment is therefore making known to each man his own real character. The consequence of that revelation is, that some men immediately go into spiritual happiness, and others into spiritual suffering.

This is the substance of the Christian doctrine of judgment, as taught in the New Testament. All else is accessory, and belongs to the rhetoric—is part of the _mise en scène_; but there are two points in the views of the apostle concerning judgment, which deserve further notice. The first is in 1 Cor. 6:2, where he says, “Know ye not that the saints shall judge the world?” and (verse 3), “Know ye not that we shall judge angels?” He speaks of this as of something which they already knew, or at any rate could know; something like an axiom, as when he says (verse 9), “Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God?” or (verse 19), “Know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit?” This notion is based on the idea of the unity of Christ and his disciples. Christians are joint heirs with Christ. Whatever Christ inherits, they receive and share with him. If he judges the world, and judges angels, they do the same with him, because they share his spirit of insight. Paul thinks the essence of Christianity to be so profound, that even the angels, desiring to look into it, may not have seen it. Therefore Christians, to whose heart God has revealed it by his Spirit, may be able to set the angels right in some matters. But this does away with the notion of a literal day of judgment; for we can hardly imagine Christians to be assembled together and seated on a throne by the side of Christ, in order to judge the world. Some millions of Christians seated on a local throne as judges, with millions of men and angels standing before them, is an impossible picture.

The other point is the passage in 1 Cor. 11:31: “If we would judge ourselves, we should not be judged.” Here a principle seems to be laid down—that just so far as we apply God’s truth to our own hearts and consciences, we do not need to have it applied by God. And this corresponds with the account of the judgment to which we have before referred, in the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew. Those who are there called up for judgment, and who stand before the throne, are not Jews or Christians, but Gentiles (τὰ ἔθνη). The holy angels are with Christ in his glory. The heathen appear before him; those who have been doing good without knowing it are received by him into his kingdom, as those who have been blessed by his Father. They are Christians, it appears, without knowing it. They inherit the kingdom, from which the original heirs who have been wicked and slothful servants, and who have buried their talent in the napkin, are excluded. Christians who have judged themselves, and applied Christianity by their own lives, are not to be judged at the coming of Christ, but only those who have been doing right or wrong ignorantly.(45)

§ 11. Final Result.

The course of our investigations in the present chapter has brought us to this result. Orthodoxy is right in expecting the coming of Christ in this world, but wrong in supposing it wholly future and wholly outward. It is right in making it a _personal_ coming, and not merely the coming of his truth apart from him, but wrong in conceiving of this personal coming, as material to the senses, instead of spiritual to the soul. It is right in expecting a judgment, but wrong in placing it only in the other world. It is right in supposing that all mankind, the converted, the unconverted, and the heathen, are to be judged by Christian truth, but wrong in supposing that this judgment must occur in one place or at one time. Finally, in this, as in regard to many other doctrines, Orthodoxy fails by neglecting the great saying of Jesus, “THE SPIRIT QUICKENETH, THE FLESH PROFITETH NOTHING,” and the similar statement of Paul, “THE LETTER KILLETH.”