A Crown of Golden Thorns.
AGAIN it is proposed by the admirers of the pope to present him with a testimonial of their homage, and this time it takes the shape of a crown of thorns, the thorns to be made of gold! There is something, at first, inexpressibly shocking in the idea of likening the pope of Rome to the crucified Son of God. To those of us who look upon the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world, as the incarnation of infinite excellence, and regard the Christ of Judea as the divine Redeemer, the proposal to put upon the head of any man an emblem even of what was in derision the distinction of our Lord, is the highest style of blasphemy. We would have every mark of contempt with which he was mocked remembered as part of the load of reproach he endured for us; and as in his humiliation he trod the wine-press alone, we would not bestow on another anything by which it might be signified that he takes the place, or shares the work of Christ alone. That work stands by itself in the annals of the world. There has been but one Christ. Jesus only wore a crown of thorns. His life and his death are not reproduced in the life and death of any man, least of all in the royal potentates who dwell in the palace of the Vatican, and fare sumptuously every day. It is just in character with the life of him who styles himself the vicar of Christ, his representative on earth, that it is now proposed to honor him with a crown of thorns, and make those thorns of gold. We have never heard that the popes pretended to represent Christ in his life of self-denial and suffering, nor that they who follow the pope desire to see him like the Master in his humiliation. Once a year he makes a show of washing the feet of paupers prepared for the ceremony, but no one ever heard of his feet being soiled and weary as were the feet which the sinful woman kissed. We have seen him in his chariot, rolling through the streets of the city; we have seen him clad in costly robes, carried on the shoulders of men who sank under his great weight; but we never heard of his bearing any burden for his people, or sinking under any cross. We often read his curses against the humble followers of the suffering Jesus; but he never bore a pain for them for whom the Master's heart was pierced. What mockery, yet how fitting, it is to make this crown of thorns out of gold. It will not hurt his head, and it will be a crown. It will be costly and kingly, in keeping with his throne and palace and robes of state; but it will not suggest the wounds and blood and agony of that face which, as the “Ecce Homo,” haunts forever the memory of all who have seen it once. It is rather the fitting crown and climax of the life of a usurper, claiming the prerogatives and titles of the Man of Sorrows, but scorning to wear his insignia, except in that distant contrast which a crown of gold bears to a crown of thorns. Yet it is just like the religion of the pope in its resemblance to the religion of the crucified Christ. Nowhere does the contrast force itself so powerfully upon the mind as in Rome itself, the very seat and summit of its chief excellence and glory. One never associates the kingdom of Christ on earth with earthly splendor. He who said, “My kingdom is not of this world,” was so meek and lowly that the pomp of a chariot and the robes of royalty and the applause of men would never seem in keeping with his humility. We think of him always as the “poor, wayfaring man of grief.” And when his wandering life of homeless poverty was coming to a close, we think of him as traveling to his doom with that derisive crown of thorns piercing his head, the reed sceptre in his hand, his head bowed in agony, and his form writhing under the burden of his cross. To put a crown of gold thorns on the head of Pius IX., is a better satire which his friends have been left in their folly to inflict upon him, that all the world may see, and say, “So this is the man who was declared to be infallible like unto the Infinite, and claiming to be vicar of Christ is now by his own friends crowned in unintended derision with gold instead of thorns.” This is the latest act in the papal drama.—N. Y. Observer.