Luke 10:21-22 In that hour Jesus rejoiced in spirit, and said, I thank you, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth… That the sage should miss what the infant can see seems at first but little possible, and still less a subject for thankfulness. It would appear to discourage the highest attributes of our nature, to throw contempt on the patience of thought, and cruelly to visit the prayer for light with the deeper darkness. Can it be that the more pains we take to know, the less will the truth be found; that the rich and practised mind is at a disadvantage compared with the inexperienced and empty? And if so, why exult in the frustration of the noblest of human aims, and the confiscation of the prize to those who have no aim at all? dwells with a savage satisfaction on the supposed exclusion from the kingdom of God of whatever we hold fair and great in the old heathen world, and richest for the adornment of all time; and exults in peopling it with hordes of triumphant barbarians like himself. Is this the spirit of Christ's thanksgiving? Are we required, out of sympathy with it, to believe Socrates an outcast and clap our hands as he vanishes from hope? to stifle our reverence for AEschylus and Plato, for the Scipios and Antonines — and declare God's preference for mendicant monks and illiterate missionaries? Must we condemn as secular and carnal our own natural admiration for the gifts of wisdom — the disciplined powers, the large and supple thought, the accurate expression, of a wellcultured nature — and force ourselves into harmony of taste with the raw religion of unmellowed sectaries, their loud voice, their rude speech, their narrow zeal, their tumultuous aspirations? Far from it. It is not intellect from which God hides Himself, but selfishness and pride; which may belong alike to taught and untaught, and darken the soul of sophist or of clown. There is light both in the "base" and in the "wise": but in the former it is wholly spontaneous; in the latter it is chiefly derivative. In its infancy the soul simply apprehends what is given it to perceive, lies confidingly in the bosom of nature, and lets the morning beams come into the full and wondering eyes. It is the loss of the habit of natural trust, the tendency to anxious quest of something distant instead of pure repose on what is here, that according to Christ's prayer, hides God from the wise and prudent. And, conversely, it is the surrender to spontaneous light and love, the simple passing out upon it into life, without doubt of its guidance or scrutiny of its claims, that reveals Him unto "babes." How profoundly true this is — that in Divine things the little child may know what the great philosopher may miss — will appear if you only think what God is, and whether He is likely to be discovered on any explorer's track or by any artifice of calculation. Two things science enables us to do, from which all its triumphs spring. It shows us how to put the parts and products of nature into true classes; and it qualifies us to foresee phenomena else unsuspected. But God is neither a being to be classified, nor a phenomenon to be foreseen, (Dr. Martineau.) Parallel Verses KJV: In that hour Jesus rejoiced in spirit, and said, I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes: even so, Father; for so it seemed good in thy sight. |
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