2. THE KIND OF LIFE
In this environment is set the figure of Jesus; here he lived out his life.
His ancestry is traced back to the ancient royal family, both in the
genealogies and in isolated remarks (Mat. 1. 1 ff.; Luke 3. 23 ff)- This
royal line had now lost all its power, possessions and significance, so
that this late descendant lived in complete obscurity.
He grew up, not in true poverty, but in humble circumstances nevertheless,
in the house of a simple craftsman--a carpenter- Jesus general behavior
bears witness to the fact that he was accustomed to great simplicity,
though we must not forget that he feels quite at ease among well-to-do
people, and shows, for example, what he thought of the behavior of Simon
the Pharisee, who had invited him but did not think it necessary to extend
him the least token of hospitality (Luke 7. 44 ff).
We do not hear of his having had any special intellectual training. The
puzzlement expressed on several occasions over where he got his knowledge
of the Scriptures and his wisdom shows that he cannot have had any formal
education (Mat. 13. 54; Mark 1. 22; Luke 2. 47; John7. 15).
Jesus' way of life is that of an itinerant religious teacher. He goes from
place to place as outward occasion--a festival pilgrimage or spiritual
necessity--his "hour"--demands. He often stays in one place for quite some
time, visiting the surrounding district and then coming back to it again.
Thus, for example, at the start of his ministry, at Capharnaum (Mat. 8. 5
and 9. 35), or at its end, in Bethany (Mat. 21. 17--18; 26. 6). This
pattern of life derived from the nature of his mission, not from a personal
wanderlust. We can deduce this from the answer he made to the scribe who
said he would follow him: "Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have
nests: but the Son of man has nowhere to lay his head" (Mat. 8. 20). From
his audience he gathered around himself a band of the more receptive whom
he instructed in the deeper meaning of his message. From among these,
again, he made another selection of the Twelve. The importance of this
selection is underscored by the fact that the chosen are mentioned by name
(Mark 3. 14 ff. et par.); and it is also recorded that he spent the
previous night in prayer (Luke 6. 12).
The small inner circle, called "the Twelve" for short (Luke 8. 1, etc.),
are especially close to him. We may recall the intimate bond which existed
in ancient times between the philosopher or religious teacher and his
disciples. The Twelve are always about him. Wherever he is invited, they go
too. He shares food and lodging with them. After he has spoken they cluster
around inquiring into the meaning of what he has said. And he tells them
expressly that all is made clear to them, whereas the multitude will have
to be content with parables (Mat. 13. 11 ff.). He sends them out to test
their strength; he tells them what to preach, what to take with them, and
how to conduct themselves on their journey; and he gives them power to
perform signs. On their return he calls for their report, and the whole
scene reveals how deeply he was involved in their activities (Mark 6. 7-13,
30-l; and cf. Mat. 10-11. 6, 25-9; Luke 10. 1-22).
Within the band of the Twelve there is a more select group still,
consisting of the Three: Peter, James and John. They are present on all
important occasions, such as the raising of Jairus' daughter, the
transfiguration on the mountain, and at Gethsemane (Mark 5. 37; 9. 2; 14.
33). There was a specially close link between John and his Master, so close
in fact that he was able to describe himself as the disciple "whom Jesus
loved" (John 3. 23; 19. 26).
A number of women can be discerned within the wider circle of disciples.
They are those whom he has helped in bodily or spiritual ills, or who have
attached themselves to him for religious reasons (Mat. 27. 55-6; Mark 16.
1; Luke 8. 1-2). Some are well-to-do and look after his material needs.
St. John's remark that one of the Twelve, Judas Iscariot, kept the common
purse (John 12. 6), answers the question: What did Jesus and his companions
live on? Each member of the group no doubt contributed something to the
common upkeep; but in addition those who were impressed by the Master's
message helped out as well. We learn, too, that alms were dispensed from
the common purse (John 13. 29).
Besides this we learn that Jesus had friends with whom he could stay.
Considering his manner of life and the highly developed hospitality of the
East, this was only natural. He had especially close ties with the
household of Lazarus, Martha and Mary of Bethany (Luke 10. 38 ff.; John
11).
A characteristic element in Jesus' circle is constituted by the "publicans
and sinners", people ostracized by the accepted standards of society
because of their way of life. With him, however, they find understanding
and love, and they, in turn, are especially devoted to him. His association
with them, however, caused the shadow of suspicion to fall on him in the
eyes of the devotees of the Law and of respectable citizens (Mat. 9. 9 ff.;
11. 19; 21. 31; etc.).
We now approach the question: What attitude did the various strata of
society and groups in the land adopt towards him?
It was the common people who from the first responded enthusiastically to
his person and his message. They could see that he did not speak "like
their scribes"--formally, technically, incomprehensibly--but with vitality,
from observation and experience; not theoretically, but "as one having
power", so that they felt the dynamic power of his words and the mysterious
Reality which lay behind the words (Mat. 7. 28-9; Luke 4. 32). They sensed
also that his attitude to them was different from that of the members of
the influential classes. In the eyes of the Sadducees, they were just a
rabble; to the Pharisees, they were the despised masses who "do not know
the Law" (John 7. 49). By contrast, the attitude of Jesus made them feel
that his concern for them was genuine. Words like those of the Beatitudes
in the Sermon on the Mount have a primarily religious meaning. But they
were in marked contrast to the standards of the wealthy, the powerful and
the educated, and were therefore interpreted by the people as signs of
sympathy for the distressed, the oppressed and the ignorant. This feeling
was strengthened by the fact that Jesus was always ready to help the poor,
the suffering and the outcast. Sayings like "Come to me, all who labor and
are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest" (Mat. 11. 28) have reference
first of all to his Messianic mission, but they also express his boundless
readiness and power to be of service.
On the other hand, Jesus is no popular hero in the narrow sense of the
word; certainly not in any sense of his being a champion of the lowly and
simple against the wealthy and the educated. Certain sayings which seem to
suggest this (Luke 6. 24 ff.; 16. 19 ff; Mat. 19. 23 ff.) in reality have
nothing to do with social attitudes of this kind; still less do they imply
any tactics of rousing the people against their rulers. In the same way,
his relationship with the "publicans and sinners" does not mean that he is
in revolt against law and morality, or that he favors moral decadence. His
championing of the outcast is stressed because no one had ever done such a
thing before. The reason for it lay not in any inner fellow-feeling but in
the fact that "they that are in health, need not a physician, but they that
are ill" (Mat. 9. 12), and because they, too, are "sons of Abraham" (Luke
19. 9). Jesus is moved by the spirit of One who knows that he is sent to
every man, regardless of his condition. But once this has been made clear,
it must also be admitted that Jesus has a special tenderness for the poor
and the outcast. This flowed from the ultimate purpose behind his entire
mission, which was to upset all systems based on the standards of the
world, in order to proclaim the unknown God and his kingdom. The poor, the
suffering, the outcast are, through their very existence, forces of
discharge capable of shattering the established order.
Furthermore, he did not allow the people to draw too close to him, and
withdrew when the approaches were too pressing. He knew that the religious
motives which inspired such enthusiasm could be confused, shallow and
earthly, and that they might cause his message, especially his message
concerning the Kingdom of God and redemption, to be seen in a false light
(John 2. 23 ff; 6. 15ff.).
Among the ruling classes, the Pharisees, who were in closest touch with
public life and all its manifestations, paid immediate attention to him. At
once they became suspicious and began to work against him. They sensed the
thoroughgoing contrast between him and them in spirit and mentality, and in
their attitudes towards God and man. He himself often treated them openly
as adversaries. This is obvious everywhere, especially in the famous
invectives (Mat. 12. 22 ff.; 15. 1 ff.; 22. 15 ff.; 23. 13 ff.; etc.). Yet,
his struggle with them was not one of uncompromising opposition. He
recognized their function (Mat. 23. 1-3), appeared before them too as their
Messiah, and, whenever they showed a glimmer of understanding the truth,
received them (John 3. 1 ff.).
For a long time the Sadducees took no notice of him. Only at the every end,
when a crisis was imminent, did they become sufficiently disturbed to join
forces briefly with their former despised enemies in a common action
against him (Mat. 22. 23 ff.; Acts 4. 1; 5. 17 ff.).
We read that Herod had heard of the new teacher and taken an interest in
him (Luke 9. 7-9)--besides, he always had shown his interest in anything to
do with religion, e.g. in his dealings with John the Baptist (Mark 6. 20
ff.). Then he became suspicious and Jesus was informed of his intention to
kill him, whereupon Jesus indicated clearly enough what he thought of him
when he called him "this fox" (Luke 13. 31 ff.). Jesus did not come into
personal contact with him until the trial, and then the meeting went badly
enough (Luke 23. 6 ff.)
At first the Roman governor was completely unaware of his existence. He,
too, was first forced to concern himself with Jesus at his trial. John,
with his customary eye for involved human detail, has given us an
impressive account of their meeting (18. 28 ff.).
We still have to emphasize the peculiar sympathy which Jesus showed for
pagans. This was made clear, for example, when he met the Roman centurion
or the Syro-Phoenician woman (Mat. 8. 5 ff.; Mark 7. 24 ff.); likewise, in
what he had to say on Tyre, Sidon and Sodom (Mat. 11. 20 ff.). Even his
behavior towards Pilate has a frankness unspoiled by any kind of prejudice.
The same is true of his attitude towards the half-pagan Samaritans--as
indicated by his parable of the man who fell among thieves, or his story of
the ten lepers (Luke 10. 30 ff.; 17. 11 ff.), or his reprimand to the two
disciples who wanted to call down the vengeance of heaven upon the
inhabitants of a village of Samaria because they would not give hospitality
to the travelers. As this last instance shows, he certainly did not intend
to reject the Samaritans (Luke 9. 51 ff.).
Something must now be said about his personal habits.
He had no fixed teaching center either near the temple or in a rabbinical
school, but moved about from place to place. We have already noted that
this way of life was not a manifestation of wanderlust. The instructions he
gave the disciples he sent out may safely be taken to reflect, with certain
limitations, the kind of life he himself led and the experiences he had
gained by it (Mat. 10. 5 ff.). He taught wherever opportunity arose--in the
synagogues, where, moreover, every adult Jew had a right to speak (Mat. 4.
23, etc.); in the porticos and courts of the temple (Mat. 21. 21 ff.; 21.
21-24. 1); in market-place and street (Mat. 9. 9 ff.); in houses (Mark 7.
17); at the well where people came to draw water (John 4. 5 ff.); by the
seashore (Mark 3. 9); on hill-slopes like the one that has given its name
to the Sermon on the Mount (Mat. 5. 1 ff.); in the fields (Mat. 12.1); in
the "wilderness", that is, in uncultivated places (Mark 8. 4), and so on.
When he was invited to a meal, he accepted (John 2. 1 ff.) even though his
host was not kindly disposed toward him (Luke 7. 36 ff.). He healed the
sick wherever he encountered them, and also went to their homes (Mark 1. 29
ff.).
But then he would withdraw once more from the crowd, even from his
disciples and nearest friends, to retreat into solitude. His public
ministry began with a long fast and communing with God in the wilderness
(Mat. 4. 1 ff.). Time and again it is recorded that he went off alone to
pray (Mat. 14. 23). He did this particularly before important events like
the choosing of the apostles (Luke 6. 12 ff.), the transfiguration (Luke 9.
18, 28), and at Gethsemane before his Passion (Mat. 26. 36 ff.).
In all matters relating to custom and ritual, in the first place, he
conformed to the Law like everyone else.
At the same time, however, he definitely set himself above the Law. He did
this not merely in the sense that he expounded the Law more intelligently
and more spiritually than the fanatics, as we see in his clashes on various
occasions over the law of the Sabbath (Mat. 12. 9 ff., etc.), but
radically. He looked upon the Law as something over which he had power:
"The Son of man is lord of the sabbath" (Mat. 12. 8), and if Lord of the
Sabbath, then Lord of the whole Law, of which the Sabbath was one of the
most important parts. His anticipation of the Paschal meal by one day is
likewise a sign of this lordship over the Law. At the Last Supper itself,
this claim is made even more forcefully: not merely because he introduced
into and instituted in this sacred rite himself, but because he annulled
the rite itself and with it the whole old Covenant and announced the "new
Covenant" and the new memorial feast (Luke 9 9. 20).
At this point we might ask about Jesus' outward appearance and manner. This
is a difficult question to pose.
To ask what someone looked like, how he spoke or acted, is to presuppose a
detachment which in fact we never find anywhere in the atmosphere which has
surrounded the figure of Jesus for nearly two thousand years. When the
question has been raised, however, as for example in connection with the
various traditions concerning his true image, it seems to have had very
minor importance. The question is also hard to put because the records,
which are interested in quite other matters, make no direct comment on
these details. They are concerned with Christ's importance in God's
economy, his importance for the salvation of man. They concentrate on the
absolute in his nature, compared with which all that is relative must
yield. Thus, the image of Jesus has always been severely stylized. Any
personal note we may discover is in each case attributable to an individual
who has made it his interest. It will be found to reflect a particular kind
of religious experience, or a special ideal of human perfection represented
by some person or period as realized in the Redeemer. We need only point,
in this connection, to the works of religious painters and poets.
So we shall not attempt to offer any solution, but will merely suggest
where perhaps it might be found.
What sort of general impression does Jesus make if we compare him with the
great figures by whom God revealed his will in the Old Testament, with
Moses or Elias, for example?
The first thing which strikes us is his great calmness and meekness. We are
apt to associate a certain weakness with these words. Was Jesus weak? Is he
a figure of that tenderness which belongs to a late period in history when
contrasted with the moods of earlier ages? Does he seem like some highly
sensitive, vulnerable character of a later age, restricted by his very
depth of understanding, so different from the creative and aggressive
figures of early times? Is he merely the kind one, the all-compassionate
one? Is he only the one who suffers and patiently accepts the burden of
destiny and life?
Unfortunately art and literature have often presented him in some such
guise; but the truth is quite otherwise.
The impression which Jesus obviously made upon his contemporaries was that
of some mysterious power. The accounts show that all who saw him were
caught, and indeed shaken, by his nature. They felt that his words were
full of power (Mat. 7. 29; Luke 4. 36). His actions--apart from special
occasions--reveal a spiritual energy which marked itself off completely
from all human standards, so that, when describing his nature, men turned
to the familiar concept of the prophet (Mat. 16. 14; Luke 7. 16). But on
occasion this energy burst forth in an overwhelming display of power, as in
the episode with Peter after the miraculous catch of fish (Luke 5. 8), or
during the storm on the lake (Mat. 8. 23 ff. et par.). There is not a trace
of hesitant reflection, sensitive reserve, diffidence, or passive
spinelessness. He was filled with a power capable of any outburst or
violence; but this power was controlled, nay transformed, by a moderation
which took its source in his innermost being, by a deep goodness and
kindness, and by a sublime freedom.
We could express the idea thus: Jesus is the personification of a
marvelously pure "humanity", not in spite of his enormous spiritual power,
but precisely because of it.
This unity of power and humanity--taking the word in its purest sense--is
one of the most prominent features of the figure of Jesus, especially as it
emerges in the accounts of the first three Gospels. His willpower, his
awareness of mission, his readiness to accept its consequences, and finally
the mighty power of the Spirit--all this is translated into pure humanity
so completely and creatively, that we can describe his significance by
saying: He is able to bring men to understand and put into effect what is
meant by true humanity, even though--or because--he is more than a mere
man.
To put it another way: unobtrusiveness is of the very essence of the
"happening" we call Jesus.
We have only to compare his outward activity with other biblical or non-
biblical happenings to see how the mighty word, bold gesture, powerful
deed, fantastic situation, and the like, are alien to him. Strange as it
may seem, the character of the extraordinary is missing even in his
miracles. These are certainly great; many of them, like raising the dead,
feeding the multitude, or walking on water, are tremendously impressive.
But even these have something about them which makes them seem, one might
almost say, "natural". This "humanity" of which we spoke reappears as
unobtrusiveness.
Jesus' manner must have been very simple, his attitude so natural that
people hardly noticed it. His actions proceeded quietly from the needs of
the situation. There was nothing incredible about them. His words, too, had
this unobtrusive quality about them. If we compare them with the words of
an Isaiah, or a Paul, they strike us as being extremely moderate and brief.
Compared with the sayings of a Buddha, they seem brief to the point of
bluntness, and almost commonplace.
Admittedly, we receive this impression only if we think of his words in a
purely philosophical, aesthetic or contemplative sense. If we consider them
in the situation in which they were uttered and take them seriously, we
then realize the power revealed in them, which goes far beyond "depth",
"wisdom", or "sublimity": they touch the chords of existence itself.
