SERMON XIX.

ON THE CHARACTER OF ST. JOHN

THE

EVANGELIST.

ST. JOHN, xiii. 23.

"Now there was leaning on Jesus' bosom, one of his disciples whom Jesus loved."

THERE is something so interesting in the situation of the

person here introduced, and so high an honour is attached to his character by this picturesque mention of him, that we at once inquire who he was. Though his name is not mentioned, circumstances sufficiently prove that the enviable description belongs to St. John, to whose memory the Church has consecrated this day. Happy Evangelist, to be permitted to recline, with affectionate fondness, upon the bosom of thy Lord, and have thy name transmitted to posterity as emphatically "the disciple whom Jesus loved."

But how did St. John attain to such peculiar favour? Was there any thing in him above the rest of mankind that the blessed Redeemer, who inculcated and manifested an universal charity, viewed him with such a partial regard? Surely the wise and equitable Jesus never felt a blind fondness for any individual. What were the qualities which gained his friend the singular happiness of his special affection? The answer to these questions will be the Evangelist's best and proper eulogium, and may lead us to some useful reflections.

A peculiarly amiable disposition, with an ardent and faithful VOL. II.-12

attachment to his Lord, appear to have been properties for which St. John was distinguished above the other disciples.

From all that we can learn of him, he was a character whom it would have been impossible not to have loved. There was in his nature that attractive union of a modest, benevolent heart, with a luminous and devout mind, with which those who know how to feel and appreciate excellence are always captivated. Benevolence was the predominant trait of his character; not a romantic feeling, an effeminate principle, alive to artificial grief but insensible to the real sufferings of men; concerned for those who are out of its reach, but thoughtless of the claims of those who are about it. It was a meek yet manly benevolence, defined as to its objects, and practical in its operation. It was that benevolence which makes the life amiable; which feels, and pities when it feels; which carries itself with a winning sweetness towards every being, and finds its congenial pleasure in doing good. Of this excellent principle, his heart was the seat. This divine virtue formed his soul. His nature glowed with that spirit of heavenly kindness which views all creatures with complacence or compassion, and in the happiness of others finds its own. In all his writings this spirit is found. His Epistles, which are written from the heart, and therefore are the best evidences of his character, glow with such an enlightened, pure, and tender charity, that it is impossible any person in whom the last remains of goodness are not extinguished should not be made better by reading them. They show him formed to love, and to be loved. In no other writings is there such a luminous benevolence. In truth, his joy, his life, his darling theme to his death, was love.

It appears that St. John had deeply contemplated the divine nature, and the fruits of his study manifest that his soul was capacious and devout as well as benevolent. We nowhere find such exalted views of the divine perfections, and such explicit statements of the mysteries of the Godhead as in those parts of Scripture which are the productions of his pen. He must have been by nature amiable. But religion had, doubtless, improved

the good dispositions which nature had given him. It was, in all probability, his acquaintance with God, and particularly his habitual contemplation of the divine goodness, and of the operation of it in the salvation of men, which filled him with that spirit for which he was conspicuous, and raised him to a degree of excellence which few mortals have attained. That he was eminently devout is evident, not only from his great attainments in the knowledge of God's truth, and from the pious fervour which prevades many of his writings, but also from the habits. of his life. We find him in the city going up to the temple daily at the hour of prayer; and when he was an exile in the Isle of Patmos, though solitary and afflicted, "he was in the spirit on the Lord's day."

Such a person as we have been contemplating could not but have loved the transcendent character of Jesus Christ. Congenial spirits will attract each other. Nor is it imputing selfishness to the Saviour to suppose that he was influenced by the Evangelist's attachment in admitting him to his intimate friendship. It seems to be a law of eternal equity that a man who would have friends must show himself friendly, and the most disinterested Being avows that "he will love them who love him."

That the Evangelist discovered an ardent attachment to Christ, there can be no doubt. The mild, the pure, the benevolent, the divine Redeemer could not but have been loved by one, who gentle by nature, when he had been filled by grace was so much like his Lord. All that he was, and did, and taught, is calculated to obtain the homage of good minds, and an indifference to the loveliness of his character, is among the surest evidences of corruption of heart. A disposition like St. John's, would readily yield to the impression of such transcendent excellence. The position in which we see him in the text is not more indicative of the Master's partiality than of the disciple's love. It is indeed to the ardour of his attachment, that candour will attribute his unguarded expression concerning the Samaritans: the only instance of severity in his life, a severity

which nothing but the exalted mercy and divine forbearance of the Son of God would have impeached. As this great friend of all mankind passed through Samaria, the ungrateful Samaritans refused him the common civilities of humanity. Wounded to the quick by this disregard of his Lord, the disciple would have called down fire from heaven to destroy them. In this one instance, his zeal outstripped his benevolence. It served to show that he was mortal, and manifested that even to the lovely John the humble Jesus was superior.

There was a fidelity as well as ardour in the attachment of this disciple to his Lord, in which no other disciple equalled him. Constancy marked his love. When the Saviour was hurried to judgment, his companions forsook him, or followed to deny him; John, with generous courage, went in with him to see the end. It was a dismaying end; but we find him at the foot of the cross, a mournful spectator, when we look in vain. for any of his compeers. On the morn of the resurrection he left even the zealous Peter behind him, though they set out together; so great was his desire to be at the sepulchre of his Lord, if haply any good had betided him. There is no truth more certain than that the amiable virtues are connected. His uniform tenderness, and genuine benevolence, his modesty and piety, were pledges of his faithfulness as a friend. He adhered to his Master when the rest failed. His attachment seems to have been such as danger could not dismay, nor adversity interrupt, nor anything destroy. To whom, indeed, but to one whose known fidelity furnished ground for the most entire confidence in him, would the Saviour have committed the beloved mo her whom he had honoured in life, and was about to leave in the world, pierced through with many sorrows. "When Jesus saw his mother, and the disciple standing by whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son! Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother!" What an expression of confidence! What a tribute to the Evangelist's worth! Who can forbear to envy the disciple this testimony of his Lord's regard! His subsequent conduct verified all that has

been said of his amiableness and fidelity; for, transferring his affection for his Master to the object who was dear to him, and scrupulously obedient to his wishes, he "from that hour took" the disconsolate mother "to his own home."

Many were the trials and sufferings to which he was exposed after his Master's ascension. But with a firmness of faith, which neither crosses, nor exile, nor the boiling cauldron, nor all that angry power threatened could bend, he maintained the religion of Jesus; writing a gospel, that it might be preserved in its integrity, and ready at all times to seal it with his blood. In short he merited not less by his character and conduct than by his office, the title with which his name has descended of "the Divine." Amiable, modest, enlightened, benevolent, devout, ardent in his attachment, pure in his affection, capable of confidence and fidelity, he appears to have been formed by grace to be the bosom friend of Jesus Christ.

To this high privilege and happiness was he raised. His sweet disposition, his amiable deportment, his enlarged soul, his piety and purity, rendered him more like his Master than any other of the disciples, and, aided by his ardent attachment and devoted zeal, in all probability procured him that place in the bosom of Christ with which he was honoured. It was not a transient nor superficial partiality which the Redeemer felt for him. It was an union of his heart with the disciple's whom he loved. That this happy favourite was admitted to intimacies, and enjoyed indulgences of the most endearing nature, is evident from Peter's beckoning to him, to obtain an answer to the solemn question which all feared to ask. He occupied the place of honour, and leaned in the posture of innocent affection upon Jesus' breast, when they were together. He was one of the chosen three whom Christ took with him to the interesting scene of his transfiguration on Tabor, and to the tremendous scene of his agony in the garden. To him, as we have noticed, was committed the dearest pledge which Christ left on earth, in the most affecting hour of earthly existence. And it was he who was honoured with those mysterious revelations, which