The Perfect Man
Love one another as I have loved you. No one can give greater proof of love than by laying down his life for his friends. And you are my friends, if you do what I command you.
—Jesus.
The Universality of Jesus
This is the universality of the nature of Jesus. There was in Him no national peculiarity or individual idiosyncrasy. He was not the son of the Jew, nor the son of the carpenter, nor the offspring of the modes of living and thinking of that particular century. He was the son of Man. Once in the world’s history was born a Man. Once in the roll of ages, out of innumerable failures, from the stock of human nature one bud developed itself into a faultless flower. One perfect specimen of humanity has God exhibited on earth.
The idea of a universal Manlike sympathy was not new when Christ was born. The reality was new. But before this in the Roman theatre, deafening applause was called forth by this sentence:—” I am a man: nothing that can affect man is indifferent to me.” A fine sentiment—that was all. Every pretense of realizing that sentiment, except one, has been a failure. One, and but one, has succeeded in loving man—and that by loving men. No sublime high-sounding language in his lips about educating the masses, or elevating the people. The charlatanry of our modern sentiment had not appeared then; it is but the parody of His love.
What was His mode of sympathy with men? He did not sit down to philosophize about the progress of the species, or dream about a millenium. He gathered round Him twelve men. He formed one friendship, special, concentrated, deep. He did not give Himself out as the leader of the publican’s cause or the champion of the rights of the dangerous classes: but He associated with Himself Matthew, a publican called from the detested receipt of custom; He went into the house of Zaccheus, and treated him like a fellow-creature, a brother, and a son of Abraham. His catholicity, or philanthropy, was not an abstraction, but an aggregate of personal attachments.
—F. W. Robertson.