2. To the Greek-speaking heathens the doctrine was foolish- ness. The Greeks had been trained to speculation. Everything in their esteem ought to assume the shape of a theory, or a system, or a well-arranged argument, and ought to invite them with subtlety of discussion. The Apostle reduced them to what was in their eyes foolishness ; he reduced them to a fact— Christ crucified.
(1) Men who sought for wisdom had to find it in other quarters than these. Wisdom is of two kinds : theoretical and practical. Theoretical wisdom gives an account and an explanation of all things that are : of the state of the world, of the puzzles and trials of human life, of the nature and character of God and of man. Practical wisdom, again, teaches men how to live so as to make the best of life, to avoid most evil, and to attain most good. Now the doctrine of the Cross failed in every way (as they thought, and not unreasonably) to commend itself to wisdom. To see a man, who is said to be the best, and the prime favourite of heaven, dying a horrible death amidst general detestation does not explain anything ; it only makes things very much more dark, and perplexed, and confused than before. Moreover, to point to a man who ended his days in such a wretched way can be no help in the way of practical guidance. No one but an absolute lunatic could desire such a fate, or regard it with anything but horror. Have we not a human nature ? Are we not made of
1 J. Thomas.
i CORINTHIANS i. 22-24 19
flesh and blood ? Do we not rightly shrink from suffering, cold, hunger, pain, and all their kindred ills ? Do we not instinctively desire to be warm, to be full, to be at ease, to be wrapped in comfort and in peace ? The doctrine of the Cross, which is of its very nature opposed to all this, is not wisdom but foolishness ; it does not deserve a hearing from sensible people.
(2) The opposition which the Gospel met with in St. Paul's day was not of that day alone. The Jew and the Greek, the seeker after the sign and the seeker after wisdom, exist always. Still, wherever the Gospel is preached, must the preacher expect to hear from each of these the same demand that St. Paul heard ; still must be found, with St. Paul, Christ crucified a stumbling-block to the one and foolishness to the other. For these two — the seeker after the sign and the seeker after wisdom ; the man who would rest all religion, all philosophy, all social polity, upon authority alone, and the man who would rest them all upon reason alone — this Jew, with his reverence for power, his love of custom and tradition — which are the power of the past — his tendency to rest always in outward law and form — the power of the present — his distaste for all philosophical speculation, his impatience of novelty, his dread of change — leaning always to the side of despotism in religion — and, on the other hand this Greek, with his subtle and restless intellect, his taste for speculation, his want of reverence for the past, his desire of change, his love of novelty, his leaning towards licence in society and scepticism in religion; what are they — these two — but the representatives of those two opposite types of mind which divide, and always have divided, all mankind ?
3. Those who listened to the call of God found in this preaching of the Apostle exactly what both Jew and Gentile were looking for. It was both a sign and a philosophy. The sign, the proof, which comes closest to us all is a change of heart, an emancipated will, a risen self, a new life. The mind humbled and exalted at once before the Cross of Christ, accepting the message of peace and love, found itself acted on by a new power. All things became new ; old habits and corruptions fell off from the believers ; they began to walk in newness of life. The great proof of moral regeneration was beiDg exhibited in every Christian Church, and was to every one that felt it a philosophy. The
20 POWER AND WISDOM OF GOD
nature of the soul, the character of God, the destiny and hopes of man, were now realized truths. They did not depend on the capacity to follow a well-reasoned system of philosophy, but on the power to lead a new and a holier life.
If In the life of David Hill, the Chinese missionary, it is recorded that as time went on Mr. Hill was increasingly impressed by the conviction that something further should be done to reach the literati of the province, the proud Confucian scholars, in their strong antipathy to Christian truth. Frequently meeting these men he could not but be struck by their contemp- tuous attitude towards the Gospel, their hatred of foreigners, and their prejudice against missionary work. His whole heart went out to them in genuine sympathy.
By offering prizes for essays on subjects taken from the Christian classics — the Scriptures — he got into touch with Hsi, a Confucian scholar, who carried off three out of four of the prizes. A little later he invited Hsi to be his teacher in studying the Chinese classics. Thus Hsi came to live with Mr. Hill, and became acquainted with the New Testament. Gradually, as he read, the life of Jesus seemed to grow more real and full of interest and wonder, and he began to understand that this mighty Saviour was no mere man, as he once imagined, but God, the very God, taking upon Him mortal flesh. Doubts and difficulties were lost sight of. The old, unquenchable desire for better things, for deliverance from sin, self, and the fear of death, for light upon the dim, mysterious future, came back upon him as in earlier years. And yet the burden of his guilt, the torment of an accusing conscience and bondage to the opium-habit he loathed but could not conquer, grew more and more intolerable. At last, the consciousness of his unworthiness became so over- whelming that he could bear it no longer, and placing the book reverently before him, he fell upon his knees on the ground, and so with many tears followed the sacred story. It was beginning then to dawn upon his soul that this wonderful, Divine, yet human sufferer, in all the anguish of His bitter cross and shame, had something personally to do with him, with his sin and sorrow and need. And so, upon his knees, the once proud, self-satisfied Confucianist read on, until he came to " the place called Geth- semane," and the God-man, alone, in that hour of His supreme agony at midnight in the garden. Then the fountains of his long-sealed heart were broken up. The very presence of God overshadowed him. In the silence he seemed to hear the Saviour's cry, " My soul is exceeding sorrrowful, even unto death " ; and into his heart there came the wonderful realisation, " He loved me, and gave himself