6. EMOTION IN THE LIFE OF JESUS
Another equally instructive question is that concerning the part played by
feeling in the life of Jesus.
In him we observe various kinds of emotional reaction. These show us that
he was not cold and aloof, either by nature or by self-discipline. Thus we
learn that he had pity on the people because of their suffering (Mat. 9.
36); that he "looked at and loved" a man in whom something special was
going on (Mark 10. 21); that he was irritated by the hypocrisy of those who
watched to see if he would heal the sick on the Sabbath: he looked "round
about on them with anger" (Mark 3. 5); that he expressed anger at the
stupidity of the disciples: "Do you not yet know or understand?" (Mark 8.
17); that he "rejoiced in the Holy Spirit" at the return of those whom he
had sent out (Luke 10. 21), and so on. Obviously the sick and the suffering
would never have come to him with such confidence; children would never
have approached him for a blessing had they not felt a warm sympathy
emanating from him. And the accounts about Gethsemane and Golgotha indicate
anything but an unimpressionable nature or the attitude of one who was a
stern ascetic, above all emotion.
And we could cite many other examples. In spite of this, however, the
impression we have of Jesus' nature is one of complete calm under all
conditions, a calm which has the same origin as his fearlessness.
This is revealed most clearly in connection with his mission. He proclaimed
publicly that the kingdom of God was about to come openly and that the
transformation of history, awaited by the prophets, was about to come to
pass. This depended, however, upon the acceptance of his message by those
who were being called. And so, it might be assumed, he must have been
experiencing great excitement, wondering whether this would happen. In
fact, we find no trace of this at all. His words and acts are not one whit
different from what they are at every moment, as dictated by the will of
the Father. When the moment of decision urges, Jesus does nothing to alter
the course of events or to ease their effects. This attitude is made
particularly clear once the decision has been taken. For example, the scene
at Caesarea Philippi shows that it does not arise from any lack of feeling
(Mat. 16. 21 ff.). When Jesus began to speak of the terrible things which
were to happen to him and Peter tried to remonstrate with him, we are told
that he turned and upbraided him (Mat. 16. 23). It was as though he could
not bear to hear anything that might upset his decision, and one feels how
his inner calm was being threatened by the horror of what was to happen.
All the more impressive, therefore, is the way in which his calm continues,
the way it lasts through all his experiences and enables him to go on
teaching and helping men, strengthening him never to allow himself to be
deflected by one hairbreadth from the perfect course of his mission, but,
moment by moment, to perform all that that mission requires.
Let us stress once more, however, that in all this there is no trace of the
imperturbability of the Stoic or the renunciation of a Buddha. Jesus is
fully alive, fully sentient, fully human. His deep calm and human warmth in
a situation which was becoming increasingly hopeless revealed what John
meant when he wrote: "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you; not
as the world giveth, do I give unto you. Let not your heart be troubled;
nor let it be afraid" (John 14. 27). These words are all the more
significant because they were spoken on the last occasion when he was with
his friends, just before the end.
