Christ's Peerless Personality

We should not be surprised that there are no images of Christ by his contemporaries. After all we have no accurate portraits of Buddha, Zarathustra, Pythagoras, or the majority of other religious founders, and in Judea in general it was not customary to draw portraits of people.

The first Christians did not retain a memory of Jesus' physical features; more than anything else the spiritual visage of the Son of Man was dear to them. "Even though we once regarded Christ from a human point of view," said the apostle Paul, "we regard Him thus no longer."

The earliest frescoes where Christ's Face is represented as it was definitively established in ecclesiastical art are from the second or third century. It is difficult to say to what extent this image is tied to oral tradition. But in any case, the Teacher, having crossed many times under the sultry sun of Palestine, Whose hands knew hard physical labor, is hardly similar to the Christ of the Italian masters. He did not wear an ancient toga, but the simple clothing of the Galileans, a long striped tunic and an outer cloak; His head was probably always covered with a white scarf with a wool fastener.

In Russian art of the 19th century the most accurate depiction of the external appearance of Christ is that of Polenov, but his pictures do not communicate the spiritual power that came from the Son of Man.

But it was exactly that power that the Evangelists rendered. In their stories one feels the subduing effect of Christ on the most different people. He captured the hearts of His future Apostles almost as fast as lightning. The temple guards who were sent to detain the Nazarene could not fulfill their order, shaken as they were by His preaching. There was something in Him that forced even His enemies to speak with Him respectfully. The scribes called Him Rabbi, "Teacher."  For Pilate, one look and a few of Christ's words commanded--against his will--a secret respect.

A certain anxious mystery, an inexplicable attractiveness, created around Him an atmosphere of love, joy, and faith. But not infrequently the disciples around Jesus were seized by a sacred shiver, almost fear, as from proximity to the Incomprehensible. With this, there was nothing of a pagan priest in Him, nothing bombastic. He did not consider it below Himself to come to a wedding or share the holiday meal with publicans in Matthew's house, to visit the Pharisee Simon, Lazarus.

Less than anything was He similar to an aloof ascetic or a gloomy dogmatist. The self-righteous said of Him, "Here is a man who loves to eat and drink wine."

There is a story that a medieval monk drove past a picturesque lake and did not even notice it. Jesus was not that way. Not even mundane inconsequentialities slipped from His gaze; He was at home with people.

The evangelists paint Christ as profoundly human.   On His eyes were seen tears; He was seen to mourn, to be amazed, to rejoice, to embrace children, to admire flowers. His very speech breathes forbearance for the weaknesses of man, but He never slackened His requirements. He could speak with tender goodness and could be strict, even sharp. Occasionally bitter irony flickered in His words ("they strain at a gnat and swallow a camel"). Usually mild and patient, Jesus was merciless to hypocrites; he expelled merchants from the temple, shamed Herod Antipas and lawyers, reproached His disciples for lack of faith.

He was peaceful and constrained, but was sometimes seized by holy wrath. Nonetheless He was a stranger to internal discord. Christ always remained Himself. With the exception of certain tragic moments, clarity of spirit never left Christ. Being in the thick of mortal life, it was as if at the same time He was in another world, in solitude with the Father. Those close to Him saw in Him a Man Who desired only one thing, "to do the will of Him Who sent (Him)."

Rublev's "Savior"           

Christ was far from morbid exaltation, from the frantic fanaticism characteristic of many zealots and founders of religions. An illuminating sobriety was one of the chief traits of His character. When He spoke about unusual things, when He called people to difficult deeds and bravery, He did it without false pathos and strain. He could converse simply with people at the well or at the holiday meal, and He could pronounce words that shook everyone--"I am the Bread of life."  He spoke of trials and struggle, and He carried light everywhere, blessing and transforming life.

Writers have never managed to create a persuasive portrait of a hero if the portrait lacked even the hint of inadequacy. The Evangelists constitute an exception, and not because they were matchless masters of words, but because they were describing a peerless Personality.

It is impossible not to agree with Rousseau, who stated that it would not be possible to think up the Gospel story. According to Goethe, "All four Gospels are authentic, because on all four lies the reflection of that spiritual height, whose source was the personality of Christ and which is more divine than anything else on the earth."

In contrast to the recluses of Qumr'an, Jesus did not turn from the world, did not hide spiritual treasures from it, but gave them generously to people. "When," he said, "men light a candle, they do not put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick, and it provides light to all in the house."   The Word of God had to be "preached on the rooftops," for that was His will.

Ancient Hebrew had by that time become a literary language. The Aramaic dialect was commonly used for conversation. Christ used this dialect in His discussions with the people. The Aramaic words and expressions which are preserved in the New Testament testify of this.

―Son of Man, pp. 49–51