The World’s Salutation to Christianity

Philippians iv. 22 v.

“All the saints salute you, chiefly they that are of Caesar’s household.”

The greenest wreath of welcome to Christ is sent from the pit of the theatre. Caesar’s household! — that is the last place from which we should have expected the first note of greeting. Rome was the most worldly spot on earth. Caesar’s palace was the worst spot in Rome. Caesar’s household was the worst spot in the palace. Why did not the wreath come from the upper lives? We should not have wondered if it had been sent by the men of the desert — by those who had shaken the dust of this world from their feet, and were waiting for another. But Caesar’s household was the home of the most crowded humanity. It was the place where the lowest ranks met and jostled each other. We can understand the rapturous greeting of the Christ by one like the prophetess Anna, who had lived all her life in solitude and “departed not from the temple night and day.” But, amid this motley mass, amid this surging crowd, amid this turgid stream of human passions, where was there room to see Christ’s beauty? Is not Christ’s beauty the power of sacrifice — the strength of self - denial? Why was it not first seen by the hermit? Wherefore did its earliest wreath come, from Caesar’s household?

It is because there is no self-denial like that of the thoroughfare. Thou who art flying from the world in search of a sacrifice of self, thou art flying from the very thing thou seekest. There are two kinds of self-denial. There is a self-denial which exists in separation from the world; it is the sacrifice of giving up, and doubtless it has its pain. But there is another and a more arduous self-denial — that which consists in taking on. There is a sacrifice which only comes by union with the world; thou shaft find it in the meeting with thy brother man. It is a much easier thing for thee to give up than to take on. To throw away sympathy with thine own past may be something; but to enter into sympathy with my past is more. To cast off thine old garment may be sad; but to put on my garment requires more courage still. It is only in Caesar’s household that such a task is possible. Thou canst disrobe thyself in the desert; but the city demands that thou shalt put on thy brother’s robe. It is where man meets man that thy sacrifice begins. It is easy to feel thy nothingness in the presence of the mountains and the stars; it is a light thing to be humble before God. But to yield thyself to a frail mortal, to sink thyself in the interest of a fellow-sinner, to merge thyself in sympathy with a creature of the dust — this puts the hermit’s life to shame, this is the flower of sacrifice. Truly, I wonder not that, amid all the wreaths of welcome, Christ’s sweetest salutation came from Caesar’s household.