I have been reading a "Life" of our Lord, in which it is assumed that as a boy He went to school. In the Gospels no mention is made of a classroom, and what we are told is simply that He was subject to His parents. On them, as on all parents, lay the whole responsibility for His upbringing; nor did they delegate their task to house-masters or any other person paid to act in their place. A lad whose people are too poor to send him to Eton or Harrow should notice that Jesus also was a mere day-boy. All His lessons were taught at home, and when He became famous, the men who had enjoyed the educational advantages of Jerusalem or Alexandria or Capernaum were astonished to find out how well He knew His letters, having, as they thought, never learnt; while others sneered at the idea of any good thing arising out of Nazareth, a place where no one would look for a famous college.
So far as one can discover from the records, His attainments were reading, writing, and arithmetic, all of which He could have learnt, and doubtless did learn, from Joseph and Mary. His ability to read included the Hebrew of the Bible, as recited in the synagogue; and, unlike those who babble the Lessons, or mutter them, or drawl them, He read so well that the people, while listening to Isaiah's words, fastened their eyes on Him of whom Isaiah spoke. His handwriting was plain and legible--so plain, indeed, that the Jews, who watched His finger as He traced their record on the ground, left, one by one, in shame; but setting a supreme value on personal intercourse, He wrote neither books nor letters, and so eluded one of the most soul-destroying tyrannies of our time.
Arithmetician
His favorite subject was arithmetic, in which His accuracy, as of a skilled artisan, accustomed to the foot-rule, was unerring. He always liked to put a numeral into His teaching, and the numerals were always appropriate. There were five wise virgins and five foolish ones. The first servant had five talents, and the second two, while the third had only one. The laborers were engaged at one penny a day, and the last gang began work at the eleventh hour. The woman hid her leaven in three measures of meal--how often had our Saviour seen His mother do the same!--and what the other housewife lost was one piece of silver out of ten. He spoke not vaguely of sheep, but precisely of an hundred sheep, less one, which leaves ninety and nine. The price of sparrows was two to the farthing; and seed, if properly sown, would yield, some thirtyfold, some sixtyfold, and some an hundredfold, showing that even good ground varies in fertility. God forgives us ten thousand talents; all that we can forgive our neighbor is, by comparison, one hundred pence.
To Him, every coin, every weight, every measure, every numeral meant the Soul. He chose not several apostles but twelve, and not a multitude of preachers but seventy; while, after His resurrection, the fishes caught in Peter's net, when counted in His presence, were exactly one hundred and fifty and three, while the distance of the boat from the shore was about two hundred cubits. In the wilderness, He fasted forty days; and when He fed the multitudes, He verified His statistics by arranging the people in hundreds and in fifties, thus knowing exactly that five thousand, besides women and children, were satisfied with five loaves and two fishes, while twelve basketfuls remained, and that four thousand were satisfied with seven loaves and a few little fishes, while seven basketfuls remained. These statistics Jesus noted at the time, and weeks afterwards He was able to quote them accurately. In Him, we see God as Craftsman, calculating the times and seasons by His solar system, yet numbering with equal care the very hairs of our head. In that Divine audit, not one of us at any time can be "missing." Amid the abundance, not one soul and not one morsel of bread must be wasted. Here is a ledger in which all the figures are set out without concealment or chicanery, an example for stock exchange, banker, missionary society, merchant, company promoter, and cathedral chapter, of what is meant by honest finance. We realize why we are told that gold, in the City of God, must be "clear as crystal." And we appreciate why Zacchæus, the tax-gatherer, on meeting Jesus, at once began to apologize for his ledgers, hoping earnestly that all would be found in order.
Insurance companies, which reckon up our days on scientific principles, habitually refer to a healthy life as a good life. The splendid physique which enabled Jesus to do His work at such high pressure, without displaying irritation, or suffering from the slightest trace of mental or bodily strain, was the direct result of His daily conduct. He who became Master of others was complete Master of Himself. It was at the end of what we call Holy Week, after clearing the Temple of money-changers, defeating innumerable opponents in debate, and announcing the Iscariot's treachery, then actually in progress, that He said, "My peace I leave with you"--not an empty greeting, as the Eastern world offers " peace," but the abiding calm of unchallengeable self-control. With so much to fill Him with foreboding, He refused to worry about it, but lived each day as it came, holding that sufficient to the day is its "evil"--by which He meant, I think, the difficulties to be overcome, the temptations to be defeated, and the troubles to be alleviated. To Him, each morrow should be kept at a distance, as an enemy of the ever-priceless present ; and while His habit of concentration is discoverable also in every efficient statesman or captain of industry, yet with Jesus we find that the game of life was played with an easy, inevitable genius--what Luke calls "grace"--which reminds one of some incomparable athlete, say a cricketer, to whom no delivery of the ball, slow or fast, straight or twisty, comes as a surprise; who hits with certainty all round the wicket, yet, to the end of the innings, preserves his wicket intact. It was the result of the single eye, as Jesus called it, assisted by constant practice and vigilant training.
There was much prayer. There was much fasting or self-denial. But it was not the prayer, not the fasting, that you see in a monastic or conventual institution. Jesus was not satisfied unless and until His disciples were able to stand alone in the open street, calling no man master save Himself, and looking to Him only for the rule of life.
The Practical Observer
With His mind thus constantly at ease, and His judgment as unruffled as a mountain tarn, yet as sensitive as that tarn to every breath of air and shaft of light, Jesus was quick to observe, and of a most tenacious memory. Having younger brothers and sisters, He knew how to mix with children, who regarded Him as one of themselves; and even when they played at events so solemn as weddings and funerals, He approved, for He had His own standards for testing irreverence. Having devoted the best part of His life to helping His mother, He had a right to comment upon what will ever be the greatest of all industries--that is, housekeeping; and when Martha's sense of duties--which is not the same as a sense of duty--- invaded the inner sanctuary of her nature, Jesus knew how to put the case, and His few words of advice to " Martha, Martha," will, for all time, correct the tendency, in home and in church, to sacrifice the eternal--the real life within us--to the harmless yet temporary and trivial. He knew about spring cleaning--how each room is emptied, then swept and finally garnished; and He preached one great sermon on washing-up-how much easier it is to cleanse or wipe the outside of a cup or platter than the inside, as some of us (who perhaps did not notice it until it was pointed out) can testify from our own war-work.
He could trim a lamp, fill it with oil, and set it ready on the lamp-stand; and with homely humor He could point out the absurdity of covering the light with a bushel--the symbol of trade or business or profession--which would, in fact, not only prevent illumination, but extinguish the flame. He could cook, being able to broil fish, and knowing how awkward it is to dispose of salt that has lost its savor. He was an excellent judge of building, now commenting upon the great stones of the Temple, and then again criticizing not merely the convenience of some house, which is what most of us think about, but the solidity of its foundations--whether it rests on sand or on rock, and how far it is exposed to and can resist cloud" bursts. With a mind bent on measuring everything by an eternal standard, He would inquire not merely whether an edifice is beautiful, but will it last? And one appreciates more and more the wonderful sanity of it all. Perhaps the climax came when, as a domestic servant or slave, Jesus washed the weary feet of His disciples. One likes the touch that He laid aside His garments and girded Himself with a towel--such respect for common, though useful, things; such close attention to a humdrum duty; such complete knowledge of how, most conveniently and expeditiously, it is to be performed. When He healed the paralytic, He also bade him "take up his bed." When He raised a maiden from the dead, she was to be given "something to eat." When Lazarus came forth from the tomb, it was Jesus who told the people what was obvious, that they should loose his grave-clothes. And when He rose Himself on Easter Day, He left His wrappings folded, and the napkin about His head, not lying with the linen clothes, but by itself, as if, by instinct, he knew in that solemn moment that a nobler material had been used by Joseph of Arimathea to bind His still bleeding brow.
Outdoor Life
He lived much out of doors. He so arranged His hours that He could work while it was day, believing that in the night no man can work. His life was thus a plea for early rising and for avoidance of artificial hours--late suppers, midnight dancing, and the rest. From the sky, He could form an opinion of next day's weather. He knew that sheep follow the shepherd, and must sometimes be carried. In the morning, He listened until He heard the cock crow. And He liked to see how a hen gathers her chickens under her wing. He could distinguish between wheat and tares. As a carpenter, He knew how to fit a yoke without galling the animal's neck. He had watched the pruning of a vine. He was the best of fishermen on the Lake of Galilee, and He could tell you how fish are sorted, the good from the bad. He could ride on an ass. He had studied the camel. He had lived among wild beasts, and knew the wolf. He was familiar--too familiar--with the thorn; and with the fig-tree and the sycamore, which did not conceal from Him the diminutive form of Zacchæus. He was worshiped with branches of palm, and He first, in one gem of purest poetry, called on us to " consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, they spin not; yet Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these."
Thus it was that He became so attractive, because so helpful a preacher. His mind being stored with accurate impressions of all around Him, He did not prepare His sermons, and advised us also to take no anxious thought what we shall say--let the Spirit suggest. He spoke with authority--the authority of actual experience--and not as the scribes, who depended on their libraries. Then, as now, women valued Him because He took their house-work seriously--far more seriously than He took the politics of the Roman Empire. Workmen of all kinds respected I His judgment, because they recognized in life as in death the print of their nails on His hands. As to education--that home, that workshop, that mother--the daily round, the common task--did in very truth furnish all He needed to ask.