He began thus to reason within himself: “I wish I could convey to those little ants that I am a man, that I have kindly feelings toward them, that in my regard for life I would not injure one of them. How could I bring to them such a concept, so that they would look upon my shadow as a source of comfort rather than of apprehension? They are only vaguely conscious of my presence, but at the same time are afraid of me. I think I see how I could make myself known to them. If I, with all the faculties of a man, could divest myself of a human form and take upon me the form of an ant, to talk with them as ants seem to be able to converse one with another, to explain to them that the great shadow which suddenly falls upon them is that of a man, who regards life as a sacred thing, and who would not, if it were possible, so much as step upon one of them, in that way I am sure that I could make them understand who I am and how I feel toward them.” Suddenly a startling realization burst upon him: “Why, that is exactly the position of the Christians. They realize that we human beings cannot comprehend God. We sense His shadow and are afraid of Him. They teach us that God took upon Himself a human form and walked among us, was one of us; and in that manner He could reveal to us the truth of God.” From that ant hill, the Indian philosopher turned away as a true believer in the Lord Jesus Christ. Would it be humbling to us to divest ourselves of our human forms to become ants in some woodland? It was a step far greater for the Lord Jesus Christ to go from Heaven’s glory to earth’s sorrow. Herein is the true spirit of Christmas: lowliness of heart toward others and cir cumstances, after the fashion of that mind which was in our Saviour. The descent of the Lord Jesus from the zenith of Heaven to the nadir of mankind did not constitute the totality of this emptying process by which He became our Saviour. Within the realm Qf mankind there are gradations of social standing. Granted that the degree of humiliation from eternity to time is one of infinite degree, and that among mankind the differences are relatively small, nevertheless, there would have been a difference for our Lord had He assumed the status of a sovereign rather than that of a servant. However, in true humility, He chose neither the exalted place nor the ease of affluence; on the contrary, He took the place of poverty and of toil. As a lad, and as a young man, He knew the weariness of physical toil, the exactness of a carpenter’s trade, the common lot of the artisan. He “took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men.” This two-fold humiliation did not exhaust the lowli ness and graciousness of spirit of Him who said of Himself that He was “meek and lowly in heart.” He stooped not only from Heaven to earth, and upon earth to the place of a servant, but “being found in fashion as a man, humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." It would seem that humbling Himself—"to taste of death,” as the Scrip tures state, would be deemed sufficient degradation for our salvation. But He stooped lower—to crucifixion, the criminal’s death. We modems, to whom the cross has become the sym bol of the source of our salvation, can little understand the horror and shame of crucifixion. Death by the cross was the most horrible, the most dreaded and shameful punishment of antiquity. It was a method so hideous and inhuman that it was never to be mentioned in polite society. Cicero declared that the word crucifixion should never enter the thoughts, the eyes or the ears of a Roman citizen. By Roman law, no Roman citizen, however de praved or diabolical, was to be crucified. It constituted the consummation of human sadism, the most terrible (Continued on Page IS)
from King David. Suffice it to say that Mary and Joseph were regarded as peasants from an obscure village in Galilee. Nazareth was not noted for its culture and erudition; rather, a contemporary would ask, contemp tuously: “Can there any good thing come out of Naza reth?” (John 1:46). For that matter, Bethlehem in that day was no busy metropolis whose fame was known far and wide. To be sure, it was in the land of Judea, and not in “Galilee of the Gentiles,” as was Nazareth. The prophet Micah had commented upon this fact: “But thou, Bethlehem Ephratah, though thou be little among the thousands of Judah” (Micah 5:2). We know a great deal about Beth lehem because it was the home of David; but in the day of Christ’s nativity, Bethlehem was just a wide place in the road. Who paid any attention to two weary travelers from Nazareth to Bethlehem? To their contemporaries they were nobodies. It was just as true then as now that if they had been persons of distinction some place would have been found for them. One doubts that the housing shortage was more serious then than it is now; and one can read between the lines that Mary and Joseph were without means or influence. They were but humble peasant folk from Galilee. The visitors to the manger on that first Christmas Eve were also humble people: poor shepherds from the rocky hillsides of Bethlehem. Followers of that pastoral occu pation were by no means plutocrats; on the contrary, they were “the forgotten men” of their day. One recalls that centuries before that Christmas night, there had come to Bethlehem the prophet of God to anoint one of Jesse’s sons to be king of Israel, but the lad he. wanted was completely overlooked because he was merely a caretaker for the sheep. The lowliness of place and people about Bethlehem’s manger sets off in bold relief the spirit of humility that marked the coming of the Lord Jesus to take upon Himself our humanity. The Apostle Paul continues his description of this self-humbling on the part of our Lord when he states that though Christ was in the form of God, with all the attributes of Deity, He regarded not His exalted place something to be grasped for Himself; but rather that He “emptied himself.” This translation is more understandable than the King James version, which reads, “But made himself of no reputation.” He took the semblance of a servant. God the Son, alway in the bosom of the Father, and ever His greatest delight and joy, stooped from the height of Heaven to the depth of earth’s degradation. Can we understand something—anything—of the real ity of the self-humbling of our Saviour, so that we too may have that same attitude of mind? The magnitude of that humbling staggers human imagination. One is reminded of the reflections of a native of India, who had sought in vain in the religions available to him for the reality which his soul desired. He had been reared in Hinduism, but had found no hope therein; he had embraced Buddhism, but had discovered in it no balm for his sin-sick soul. He heard of Christianity, and set himself to study its basic tenets. When he came to the doctrine of the Christians that the Lord Jesus Christ was “very God of very God,” of the substance of the Father from all eternity, and that He humbled Himself to take upon Him our humanity, apart from our sin, the Indian was indignant. How was it possible that the human mind could imagine such an abhorrent thought, that God would come to the level of sinful man and be one like us! With disgust he turned from his study of Christianity to search in other fields for food for his soul. One day as he was walking in his garden, he came upon a large ant hill, and paused to observe those little living symbols of industry and frugality. He noticed that h'is shadow seemed to cause them some consternation. When he retired a few steps, they immediately resumed their activity.
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