THE EXPOSITOR'S BIBLE
EDITED BY THE REV.
W. ROBERTSON NICOLL, M.A., LL.D.
Editor of "The Expositor"
AUTHORIZED EDITION, COMPLETE
AND UNABRIDGED
BOUND IN TWENTY-FIVE VOLUMES
NEW YORK
FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY
LAFAYETTE PLACE
1900
EZRA, NEHEMIAH, AND ESTHER
BY
WALTER F. ADENEY, M.A.
PROFESSOR OF NEW TESTAMENT EXEGESIS AND CHURCH HISTORY,
NEW COLLEGE, LONDON
NEW YORK
FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY
LAFAYETTE PLACE
1900
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY: EZRA AND NEHEMIAH.
Though in close contact with the most perplexing
problems of Old Testament literature, the main
history recorded in the books of 'Ezra' and 'Nehemiah'
is fixed securely above the reach of adverse criticism.
Here the most cautious reader may take his stand
with the utmost confidence, knowing that his feet rest
on a solid rock. The curiously inartistic process
adopted by the writer is in itself some guarantee of
authenticity. Ambitious authors who set out with the
design of creating literature—and perhaps building
up a reputation for themselves by the way—may be
very conscientious in their search for truth; but we
cannot help suspecting that the method of melting down
their materials and recasting them in the mould of their
own style which they usually adopt must gravely
endanger their accuracy. Nothing of the kind is
attempted in this narrative. In considerable portions
of it the primitive records are simply copied word for
word, without the least pretence at original writing on
the part of the historian. Elsewhere he has evidently
kept as near as possible to the form of his materials,
even when the plan of his work has necessitated some
condensation or readjustment. The crudity of this
procedure must be annoying to literary epicures who
prefer flavour to substance, but it should be an occasion
of thankfulness on the part of those of us who wish to
trace the revelation of God in the life of Israel, because
it shows that we are brought as nearly as possible face
to face with the facts in which that revelation was
clothed.
In the first place, we have some of the very writings
of Ezra and Nehemiah, the leading actors in the great
drama of real life that is here set forth. We cannot
doubt the genuineness of these writings. They are
each of them composed in the first person singular, and
they may be sharply distinguished from the remainder
of the narrative, inasmuch as that is in the third person—not
to mention other and finer marks of difference.
Of course this implies that the whole of Ezra and
Nehemiah should not be ascribed to the two men whose
names the books bear in our English Bibles. The
books themselves do not make any claim to be written
throughout by these great men. On the contrary, they
clearly hint the opposite, by the transition to the third
person in those sections which are not extracted
verbatim from one or other of the two authorities.
It is most probable that the Scripture books now
known as Ezra and Nehemiah were compiled by one
and the same person, that, in fact, they originally
constituted a single work. This view was held by the
scribes who arranged the Hebrew Canon, for there
they appear as one book. In the Talmud they are
treated as one. So they are among the early Christian
writers. As late as the fifth century of our era Jerome
gives the name of "Esdras" to both, describing
"Nehemiah" as "The Second Book of Esdras."
Further, there seem to be good reasons for believing
that the compiler of our Ezra-Nehemiah was no other
than the author of Chronicles. The repetition of the
concluding passage of 2 Chronicles as the introduction
to Ezra is an indication that the latter was intended
to be a continuation of the Chronicler's version of the
History of Israel. When we compare the two works
together, we come across many indications of their
agreement in spirit and style. In both we discover a
disposition to hurry over secular affairs in order to
dilate on the religious aspects of history. In both
we meet with the same exalted estimation of The Law,
the same unwearied interest in the details of temple
ritual and especially in the musical arrangements of
the Levites, and the same singular fascination for long
lists of names, which are inserted wherever an opportunity
for letting them in can be found.
Now, there are several things in our narrative that
tend to show that the Chronicler belongs to a comparatively
late period. Thus in Nehemiah xii. 22 he
mentions the succession of priests down "to the reign
of Darius the Persian." The position of this phrase
in connection with the previous lists of names makes
it clear that the sovereign here referred to must be
Darius III., surnamed Codommanus, the last king of
Persia, who reigned from B.C. 336 to B.C. 332. Then
the title "the Persian" suggests the conclusion that
the dynasty of Persia had passed away; so does the
phrase "king of Persia," which we meet with in the
Chronicler's portion of the narrative. The simple expression
"the king," without any descriptive addition,
would be sufficient on the lips of a contemporary.
Accordingly we find that it is used in the first-person
sections of Ezra-Nehemiah, and in those royal edicts
that are cited in full. Again, Nehemiah xii. 11 and 22
give us the name of Jaddua in the series of high-priests.
But Jaddua lived as late as the time of Alexander;
his date must be about B.C. 331.Josephus, Ant., XI. viii. 7.
This lands
us in the Grecian period. Lastly, the references to
"the days of Nehemiah"Neh. xii. 26 and 47.
clearly point to a writer in
some subsequent age. Though it is justly urged that
it was quite in accordance with custom for later scribes
to work over an old book, inserting a phrase here and
there to bring it up to date, the indications of the later
date are too closely interwoven with the main structure
of the composition to admit this hypothesis here.
Nevertheless, though we seem to be shut up to the
view that the Grecian era had been reached before our
book was put together, this is really only a matter of
literary interest, seeing that it is agreed on all sides that
the history is authentic, and that the constituent parts
of it are contemporary with the events they record.
The function of the compiler of such a book as this is
not much more than that of an editor. It must be admitted
that the date of the final editor is as late as the
Macedonian Empire. The only question is whether this
man was the sole editor and compiler of the narrative.
We may let that point of purely literary criticism be
settled in favour of the later date for the original compilation,
and yet rest satisfied that we have all we want—a
thoroughly genuine history in which to study the
ways of God with man during the days of Ezra and
Nehemiah.
This narrative is occupied with the Persian period of
the History of Israel. It shows us points of contact
between the Jews and a great Oriental Empire; but,
unlike the history in the dismal Babylonian age, the
course of events now moves forward among scenes of
hopeful progress. The new dominion is of an Aryan
stock—intelligent, appreciative, generous. Like the
Christians in the time of the Apostles, the Jews now
find the supreme government friendly to them, even
ready to protect them from the assaults of their hostile
neighbours. It is in this political relationship, and
scarcely, if at all, by means of the intercommunication
of ideas affecting religion, that the Persians take an
important place in the story of Ezra and Nehemiah.
We shall see much of their official action; we can but
grope about vaguely in search of the few hints of their
influence on the theology of Israel that may be looked
for on the pages of the sacred narrative. Still a remarkable
characteristic of the leading religious movement
of this time is the Oriental and foreign locality
of its source. It springs up in the breasts of Jews
who are most stern in their racial exclusiveness, most
relentless in their scornful rejection of any Gentile
alliance. But this is on a foreign soil. It comes from
Babylon, not Jerusalem. Again and again fresh impulses
and new resources are brought up to the sacred
city, and always from the far-off colony in the land
of exile. Here the money for the cost of the rebuilding
of the temple was collected; here The Law was
studied and edited; here means were found for restoring
the fortifications of Jerusalem. Not only did the first
company of pilgrims go up from Babylon to begin a
new life among the tombs of their fathers; but one
after another fresh bands of emigrants, borne on new
waves of enthusiasm, swept up from the apparently
inexhaustible centres of Judaism in the East to rally
the flagging energies of the citizens of Jerusalem. For
a long while this city was only maintained with the
greatest difficulty as a sort of outpost from Babylon:
it was little better than a pilgrim's camp; often it was
in danger of destruction from the uncongenial character
of its surroundings. Therefore it is Babylonian Judaism
that here claims our attention. The mission of this
great religious movement is to found and cultivate an
offshoot of itself in the old country. Its beginning
is at Babylon; its end is to shape the destinies of
Jerusalem.
Three successive embassies from the living heart of
Judaism in Babylon go up to Jerusalem, each with its
own distinctive function in the promotion of the purposes
of the mission. The first is led by Zerubbabel
and Jeshua in the year B.C. 537.Allowing some months for the preparation of the expedition—and
this we must do—we may safely say that it started in the year
after the decree of Cyrus, which was issued in B.C. 538.
The second is conducted
by Ezra eighty years later. The third follows
shortly after this with Nehemiah as its central figure.
Each of the two first-named expeditions is a great
popular migration of men, women, and children returning
home from exile; Nehemiah's journey is more
personal—the travelling of an officer of state with his
escort. The principal events of the history spring out
of these three expeditions. Zerubbabel and Jeshua
are commissioned to restore the sacrifices and rebuild
the temple at Jerusalem. Ezra sets forth with the
visible object of further ministering to the resources
of the sacred shrine; but the real end that he is inwardly
aiming at is the introduction of The Law to
the people of Jerusalem. Nehemiah's main purpose
is to rebuild the city walls, and so restore the civic
character of Jerusalem and enable her to maintain her
independence in spite of the opposition of neighbouring
foes. In all three cases a strong religious motive lies
at the root of the public action. To Ezra the priest
and scribe religion was everything. He might almost
have taken as his motto, "Perish the State, if the
Church may be saved." He desired to absorb the
State into the Church: he would permit the former to
exist, indeed, as the visible vehicle of the religious life
of the community; but to sacrifice the religious ideal
in deference to political exigencies was a policy against
which he set his face like flint when it was advocated
by a latitudinarian party among the priests. The conflict
which was brought about by this clash of opposing
principles was the great battle of his life. Nehemiah
was a statesman, a practical man, a courtier who knew
the world. Outwardly his aims and methods were very
different from those of the unpractical scholar. Yet the
two men thoroughly understood one another. Nehemiah
caught the spirit of Ezra's ideas; and Ezra, whose work
came to a standstill while he was left to his own resources,
was afterwards able to carry through his great
religious reformation on the basis of the younger man's
military and political renovation of Jerusalem.
In all this the central figure is Ezra. We are
able to see the most marked results in the improved
condition of the city after his capable and vigorous
colleague has taken up the reins of government. But
though the hand is then the hand of Nehemiah, the
voice is still the voice of Ezra. Later times have
exalted the figure of the famous scribe into gigantic
proportions. Even as he appears on the page of history
he is sufficiently great to stand out as the maker of his
age.
For the Jews in all ages, and for the world at large,
the great event of this period is the adoption of The
Law by the citizens of Jerusalem. Recent investigations
and discussions have directed renewed attention to
the publication of The Law by Ezra, and the acceptance
of it on the part of Israel. It will be especially important,
therefore, for us to study these things in the
calm and ingenuous record of the ancient historian,
where they are treated without the slightest anticipation
of modern controversies. We shall have to see
what hints this record affords concerning the history of
The Law in the days of Ezra and Nehemiah.
One broad fact will grow upon us with increasing
clearness as we proceed. Evidently we have here
come to the watershed of Hebrew History. Up to this
point all the better teachers of Israel had been toiling
painfully in their almost hopeless efforts to induce the
Jews to accept the unique faith of Jehovah, with its
lofty claims and its rigorous restraints. That faith
itself however had appeared in three forms,—as a
popular cult, often degraded to the level of the local
religion of heathen neighbours; as a priestly tradition,
exact and minute in its performances, but the secret of
a caste; and as a subject of prophetic instruction,
instinct with moral principles of righteousness and
spiritual conceptions of God, but too large and free to
be reached by a people of narrow views and low attainments.
With the publication of The Law by Ezra the
threefold condition ceased, and henceforth there was
but one type of religion for the Jews.
The question when The Law was moulded into its
present shape introduces a delicate point of criticism.
But the consideration of its popular reception is more
within the reach of observation. In the solemn sealing
of the covenant the citizens of Jerusalem—laity as well
as priests—men, women, and children—all deliberately
pledged themselves to worship Jehovah according to
The Law. There is no evidence to show that they had
ever done so before. The narrative bears every indication
of novelty. The Law is received with curiosity;
it is only understood after being carefully explained by
experts; when its meaning is taken in, the effect is a
shock of amazement bordering on despair. Clearly this
is no collection of trite precepts known and practised
by the people from antiquity.
It must be remembered, on the other hand, that an
analogous effect was produced by the spread of the
Scriptures at the Reformation. It does not fall within
the scope of our present task to pursue the inquiry
whether, like the Bible in Christendom, the entire law
had been in existence in an earlier age, though then
neglected and forgotten. Yet even our limited period
contains evidence that The Law had its roots in the
past. The venerated name of Moses is repeatedly
appealed to when The Law is to be enforced. Ezra
never appears as a Solon legislating for his people.
Still neither is he a Justinian codifying a system of
legislation already recognised and adopted. He
stands between the two, as the introducer of a law
hitherto unpractised and even unknown. These facts
will come before us more in detail as we proceed.
The period now brought before our notice is to some
extent one of national revival; but it is much more
important as an age of religious construction. The Jews
now constitute themselves into a Church; the chief
concern of their leaders is to develop their religious
life and character. The charm of these times is to be
found in the great spiritual awakening that inspires and
shapes their history. Here we approach very near to
the Holy Presence of the Spirit of God in His glorious
activity as the Lord and Giver of Life. This epoch was
to Israel what Pentecost became to the Christians.
Pentecost!—We have only to face the comparison to see
how far the later covenant exceeded the earlier covenant
in glory. To us Christians there is a hardness, a
narrowness, a painful externalism in the whole of this
religious movement. We cannot say that it lacks soul;
but we feel that it has not the liberty of the highest
spiritual vitality. It is cramped in the fetters of legal
ordinances. We shall come across evidences of the existence
of a liberal party that shrank from the rigour of
The Law. But this party gave no signs of religious life;
the freedom it claimed was not the glorious liberty of
the sons of God. There is no reason to believe that
the more devout people anticipated the standpoint of
St. Paul and saw any imperfection in their law. To
them it presented a lofty scheme of life, worthy of
the highest aspiration. And there is much in their
spirit that commands our admiration and even our
emulation. The most obnoxious feature of their zeal
is its pitiless exclusiveness. But without this quality
Judaism would have been lost in the cross currents of
life among the mixed populations of Palestine.
The policy of exclusiveness saved Judaism. At
heart this is just an application—though a very harsh
and formal application—of the principle of separation
from the world which Christ and His Apostles enjoined
on the Church, and the neglect of which has sometimes
nearly resulted in the disappearance of any distinctive
Christian truth and life, like the disappearance of a
river that breaking through its banks spreads itself out
in lagoons and morasses, and ends by being swallowed
up in the sands of the desert.
The exterior aspect of the stern, strict Judaism of
these days is by no means attractive. But the interior
life of it is simply superb. It recognises the absolute
supremacy of God. In the will of God it acknowledges
the one unquestionable authority before which all who
accept His covenant must bow; in the revealed truth
of God it perceives an inflexible rule for the conduct of
His people. To be pledged to allegiance to the will and
law of God is to be truly consecrated to God. That is
the condition voluntarily entered into by the citizens of
Jerusalem in this epoch of religious awakening. A few
centuries later their example was followed by the
primitive Christians, who, according to the testimony
of the two Bithynian handmaidens tortured by Pliny,
solemnly pledged themselves to lives of purity and
righteousness; again, it was imitated, though in
strangely perverted guise, by anchorites and monks,
by the great founders of monastic orders and their
loyal disciples, and by mediæval reformers of Church
discipline such as St. Bernard; still later it was followed
more closely by the Protestant inhabitants of Swiss
cities at the Reformation, by the early Independents at
home and the Pilgrim Fathers in New England, by the
Covenanters in Scotland, by the first Methodists. It is
the model of Church order, and the ideal of the religious
organisation of civic life. But it awaits the adequate
fulfilment of its promise in the establishment of the
Heavenly City, the New Jerusalem.
CHAPTER II.
CYRUS.
Ezra i. I.
The remarkable words with which the Second
Book of Chronicles closes, and which are repeated
in the opening verses of the Book of Ezra, afford
the most striking instance on record of that peculiar
connection between the destinies of the little Hebrew
nation and the movements of great World Empires
which frequently emerges in history. We cannot
altogether set it down to the vanity of their writers, or
to the lack of perspective accompanying a contracted,
provincial education, that the Jews are represented in
the Old Testament as playing a more prominent part on
the world's stage than one to which the size of their
territory—little bigger than Wales—or their military
prowess would entitle them. The fact is indisputable.
No doubt it is to be attributed in part to the geographical
position of Palestine on the highway of the
march of armies to and fro between Asia and Africa;
but it must spring also in some measure from the
unique qualities of the strange people who have given
their religion to the most civilised societies of mankind.
In the case before us the greatest man of his age,
one of the half-dozen Founders of Empires, who constitute
a lofty aristocracy even among sovereigns, is
manifestly concerning himself very specially with the
restoration of one of the smallest of the many subject
races that fell into his hands when he seized the
garnered spoils of previous conquerors. Whatever we
may think of the precise words of his decree as this is
now reported to us by a Hebrew scribe, it is unquestionable
that he issued some such orders as are contained
in it. Cyrus, as it now appears, was originally
king of Elam, the modern Khuzistan, not of Persia,
although the royal family from which he sprang was
of Persian extraction. After making himself master of
Persia and building up an empire in Asia Minor and
the north, he swept down on to the plains of Chaldæa
and captured Babylon in the year B.C. 538. To the
Jews this would be the first year of his reign, because
it was the first year of his rule over them, just as the
year A.D. 1603 is reckoned by Englishmen as the first
year of James I., because the king of Scotland then
inherited the English throne. In this year the new
sovereign, of his own initiative, released the Hebrew
exiles, and even assisted them to return to Jerusalem
and rebuild their ruined temple. Such an astounding
act of generosity was contrary to the precedent of
other conquerors, who accepted as a matter of course
the arrangement of subject races left by their predecessors;
and we are naturally curious to discover
the motives that prompted it.
Like our mythical King Arthur, the Cyrus of legend
is credited with a singularly attractive disposition.
Herodotus says the Persians regarded him as their
"father" and their "shepherd." In Xenophon's romance
he appears as a very kindly character. Cicero
calls him the most just, wise, and amiable of rulers.
Although it cannot be dignified with the name of
history, this universally accepted tradition seems to
point to some foundation in fact. It is entirely in
accord with the Jewish picture of the Great King.
There is some reason for believing that the privilege
Cyrus offered to the Jews was one in which other
nations shared. On a small, broken, clay cylinder,
some four inches in diameter, discovered quite recently
and now deposited in the British Museum, Cyrus is
represented as saying, "I assembled all those nations,
and I caused them to go back to their countries."
Thus the return of the Jews may be regarded as a part
of a general centrifugal movement in the new Empire.
Nevertheless, the peculiar favour indicated by the
decree issued to the Jews suggests something special in
their case, and this must be accounted for before the
action of Cyrus can be well understood.
Little or no weight can be attached to the statement
of Josephus, who inserts in the very language of the
decree a reference to the foretelling of the name of
Cyrus by "the prophets," as a prime motive for issuing
it, and adds that this was known to Cyrus by his
reading the book of Isaiah.Ant., XI. i. 1, 2.
Always more or less
untrustworthy whenever he touches the relations
between his people and foreigners, the Jewish historian
is even exceptionally unsatisfactory in his treatment
of the Persian Period. It may be, as Ewald
asserts, that Josephus is here following some Hellenistic
writer; but we know nothing of his authority.
There is no reference to this in our one authority, the
Book of Ezra; and if it had been true there would have
been every reason to publish it. Some Jews at court
may have shown Cyrus the prophecies in question
indeed it is most probable that men who wished to please
him would have done so. Plato in the "Laws" represents
Cyrus as honouring those who knew how to give
good advice. But it is scarcely reasonable to suppose,
without a particle of evidence, that a great monarch
flushed with victory would set himself to carry out a
prediction purporting to emanate from the Deity of one
of the conquered peoples, when that prediction was
distinctly in their interest, unless he was first actuated
by some other considerations.
Until a few years ago it was commonly supposed that
Cyrus was a Zoroastrian, who was disgusted at the
cruel and lustful idolatry of the Babylonians, and that
when he discovered a monotheistic people oppressed
by vicious heathen polytheists, he claimed religious
brotherhood with them, and so came to show them
singular favour. Unfortunately for his fame, this
fascinating theory has been recently shattered by the
discovery of the little cylinder already referred to.
Here Cyrus is represented as saying that "the gods"
have deserted Nabonidas—the last king of Babylon—because
he has neglected their service; and that
Merodach, the national divinity of Babylon, has transferred
his favour to Cyrus; who now honours him with
many praises. An attempt has been made to refute
the evidence of this ancient record by attributing the
cylinder to some priest of Bel, who, it is said, may
have drawn up the inscription without the knowledge
of the king, and even in direct opposition to his religious
views. A most improbable hypothesis! especially as
we have absolutely no grounds for the opinion that
Cyrus was a Zoroastrian. The Avesta, the sacred
collection of hymns which forms the basis of the Parsee
scriptures, came from the far East, close to India, and it
was written in a language almost identical with Sanscrit
and quite different from the Old Persian of Western
Persia. We have no ground for supposing that as
yet it had been adopted in the remote south-western
region of Elam, where Cyrus was brought up. That
monarch, it would seem, was a liberal-minded syncretist,
as ready to make himself at home with the gods of the
peoples he conquered as with their territories. Such a
man would be astute enough to represent the indigenous
divinities as diverting their favour from the fallen and
therefore discredited kings he had overthrown, and
transferring it to the new victor. We must therefore
descend from the highlands of theology in our search
for an explanation of the conduct of Cyrus. Can we
find this in some department of state policy?
We learn from the latter portion of our Book of
Isaiah that the Jewish captives suffered persecution
under Nabonidas. It is not difficult to guess the cause
of the embitterment of this king against them after they
had been allowed to live in peace and prosperity under
his predecessors. Evidently the policy of Nebuchadnezzar,
which may have succeeded with some other
races, had broken down in its application to a people
with such tough national vitality as that of the Jews.
It was found to be impossible to eradicate their
patriotism—or rather the patriotism of the faithful
nucleus of the nation, impossible to make Jerusalem
forgotten by the waters of Babylon. This ancient
"Semitic question" was the very reverse of that which
now vexes Eastern Europe, because in the case of the
Jews at Babylon the troublesome aliens were only
desirous of liberty to depart; but it sprang from the same
essential cause—the separateness of the Hebrew race.
Now things often present themselves in a true light
to a new-comer who approaches them with a certain
mental detachment, although they may have been
grievously misapprehended by those people among
whom they have slowly shaped themselves. Cyrus
was a man of real genius; and immediately he came
upon the scene he must have perceived the mistake
of retaining a restless, disaffected population, like a
foreign body rankling in the very heart of his empire.
Moreover, to allow the Jews to return home would
serve a double purpose. While it would free the
Euphrates Valley from a constant source of distress,
it would plant a grateful, and therefore loyal, people
on the western confines of the empire—perhaps, as
some have thought, to be used as outworks and a basis
of operations in a projected campaign against Egypt.
Thus a far-sighted statesman might regard the liberation
of the Jews as a stroke of wise policy. But we
must not make too much of this. The restored Jews
were a mere handful of religious devotees, scarcely able
to hold their own against the attacks of neighbouring
villages; and while they were permitted to build their
temple, nothing was said in the royal rescript about
fortifying their city. So feeble a colony could not
have been accounted of much strategic importance by
such a master of armies as Cyrus. Again, we know
from the "Second Isaiah" that, when the Persian war-cloud
was hovering on the horizon, the Jewish exiles
hailed it as the sign of deliverance from persecution.
The invader who brought destruction to Babylon promised
relief to her victims; and the lofty strains of the
prophet bespeak an inspired perception of the situation
which encouraged higher hopes. A second discovery
in the buried library of bricks is that of a small flat
tablet, also recently unearthed like the cylinder of
Cyrus, which records this very section of the history of
Babylon. Here it is stated that Cyrus intrigued with
a disaffected party within the city. Who would be
so likely as the persecuted Jews to play this part?
Further, the newly found Babylonian record makes
it clear that Herodotus was mistaken in his famous
account of the siege of Babylon where he connected
it with the coming of Cyrus. He must have misapprehended
a report of one of the two sieges under Darius,
when the city had revolted and was recaptured by
force, for we now know that after a battle fought in the
open country Cyrus was received into the city without
striking another blow. He would be likely to be in a
gracious mood then, and if he knew there were exiles,
languishing in captivity, who hailed his advent as that
of a deliverer, even apart from the question whether
they had previously opened up negotiations with him,
he could not but look favourably upon them; so that
generosity and perhaps gratitude combined with good
policy to govern his conduct. Lastly, although he was
not a theological reformer, he seems to have been of a
religious character, according to his light, and therefore
it is not unnatural to suppose that he may have
heartily thrown himself into a movement of which
his wisdom approved, and with which all his generous
instincts sympathised. Thus, after all, there may be
something in the old view, if only we combine it with
our newer information. Under the peculiar political
circumstances of his day, Cyrus may have been
prepared to welcome the prophetic assurance that he
was a heaven-sent shepherd, if some of the Jews had
shown it him. Even without any such assurance, other
conquerors have been only too ready to flatter themselves
that they were executing a sacred mission.
These considerations do not in the least degree limit
the Divine element of the narrative as that is brought
forward by the Hebrew historian. On the contrary, they
give additional importance to it. The chronicler sees in
the decree of Cyrus and its issues an accomplishment
of the word of the Lord by the mouth of Jeremiah.
Literally he says that what happens is in order that
the word of the Lord may be brought to an end.
It is in the "fulness of the time," as the advent of
Christ was later in another relation.Gal. iv. 4.
The writer seems
to have in mind the passage—"And this whole land
shall be a desolation, and an astonishment; and
these nations shall serve the king of Babylon seventy
years. And it shall come to pass, when seventy years
are accomplished, that I will punish the king of
Babylon, and that nation, saith the Lord, for their
iniquity, and the land of the Chaldeans; and I will
make it desolate for ever";Jer. xxv. 11, 12.
as well as another
prophecy—"For thus saith the Lord, After seventy
years be accomplished for Babylon, I will visit you, and
perform My good word toward you, in causing you to
return to this place."Jer. xxix. 10.
Now if we do not accept the
notion of Josephus that Cyrus was consciously and
purposely fulfilling these predictions, we do not in any
way diminish the fact that the deliverance came from
God. If we are driven to the conclusion that Cyrus
was not solely or chiefly actuated by religious motives,
or even if we take his action to be purely one of state
policy, the ascription of this inferior position to Cyrus
only heightens the wonderful glory of God's overruling
providence. Nebuchadnezzar was described as God's
"servant"Jer. xxvii. 6.
because, although he was a bad man, only
pursuing his own wicked way, yet, all unknown to him,
that way was made to serve God's purposes. Similarly
Cyrus, who is not a bad man, is God's "Shepherd,"
when he delivers the suffering flock from the wolf and
sends it back to the fold, whether he aims at obeying
the will of God or not. It is part of the great revelation
of God in history, that He is seen working out
His supreme purposes in spite of the ignorance and
sometimes even by means of the malice of men. Was
not this the case in the supreme event of history, the
crucifixion of our Lord? If the cruelty of Nebuchadnezzar
and the feebleness of Pilate could serve God, so
could the generosity of Cyrus.
The question of the chronological exactness of this
fulfilment of prophecy troubles some minds that are
anxious about Biblical arithmetic. The difficulty is to
arrive at the period of seventy years. It would seem
that this could only be done by some stretching at both
ends of the exile. We must begin with Nebuchadnezzar's
first capture of Jerusalem and the first carrying
away of a small body of royal hostages to Babylon in
the year B.C. 606. Even then we have only sixty-eight
years to the capture of Babylon by Cyrus, which
happened in B.C. 538. Therefore to get the full seventy
years it is proposed to extend the exile till the year
B.C. 536, which is the date of the commencement of
Cyrus's sole rule. But there are serious difficulties in
these suggestions. In his prediction of the seventy
years Jeremiah plainly refers to the complete overthrow
of the nation with the strong words, "This whole land
shall be a desolation and an astonishment." As a
matter of fact, the exile only began in earnest with the
final siege of Jerusalem, which took place in B.C. 588.
Then Cyrus actually began his reign over the Jews in
B.C. 538, when he took Babylon, and he issued his
edict in his first year. Thus the real exile as a national
trouble seems to have occupied fifty years, or, reckoning
a year for the issuing and execution of the edict, fifty-one
years. Instead of straining at dates, is it not more
simple and natural to suppose that Jeremiah gave a
round figure to signify a period which would cover the
lifetime of his contemporaries, at all events? However
this may be, nobody can make a grievance out of the
fact that the captivity may not have been quite so
lengthy as the previous warnings of it foreshadowed.
Tillotson wisely remarked that there is this difference
between the Divine promises and the Divine threatenings,
that while God pledges His faithfulness to the full
extent of the former, He is not equally bound to the
perfect accomplishment of the latter. If the question
of dates shows a little discrepancy, what does this
mean but that God is so merciful as not always to exact
the last farthing? Moreover it should be remarked
that the point of Jeremiah's prophecy is not the exact
length of the captivity, but the certain termination of it
after a long while. The time is fulfilled when the end
has come.
But the action of Cyrus is not only regarded as the
accomplishment of prophecy; it is also attributed to the
direct influence of God exercised on the Great King,
for we read "the Lord stirred up the spirit of Cyrus
king of Persia," etc. It would indicate the radical
scepticism which is too often hidden under the guise
of a rigorous regard for correct belief, to maintain that
because we now know Cyrus to have been a polytheist
his spirit could not have been stirred up by the true
God. It is not the teaching of the Bible that God
confines His influence on the hearts of men to Jews
and Christians. Surely we cannot suppose that the
Father of all mankind rigidly refuses to hold any intercourse
with the great majority of His children—never
whispers them a guiding word in their anxiety and
perplexity, never breathes into them a helpful impulse,
even in their best moments, when they are earnestly
striving to do right. In writing to the Romans St.
Paul distinctly argues on the ground that God has
revealed Himself to the heathen world,Rom. i. 19.
and in the
presence of Cornelius St. Peter as distinctly asserts that
God accepts the devout and upright of all nations.Acts x. 34, 35.
Here even in the Old Testament it is recognised that
God moves the king of Persia. This affords a singular
encouragement for prayer, because it suggests that God
has access to those who are far out of our reach; that
He quite sets aside the obstruction of intermediaries—secretaries,
chamberlains, grand-viziers, and all the
entourage of a court; that He goes straight into the
audience chamber, making direct for the inmost thoughts
and feelings of the man whom He would influence. The
wonder of it is that God condescends to do this even
with men who know little of Him; but it should be
remembered that though He is strange to many men,
none of them are strange to Him. The Father knows
the children who do not know Him. It may be
remarked, finally, on this point, that the special
Divine influence now referred to is dynamic rather
than illuminating. To stir up the spirit is to move
to activity. God not only teaches; He quickens. In
the case of Cyrus, the king used his own judgment
and acted on his own opinions; yet the impulse which
drove him was from God. That was everything. We
live in a God-haunted world: why then are we slow
to take the first article of our creed in its full meaning?
Is it so difficult to believe in God when all history is
alive with His presence?
CHAPTER III.
THE ROYAL EDICT.
Ezra i. 2-4, 7-11.
It has been asserted that the Scripture version of
the edict of Cyrus cannot be an exact rendering
of the original, because it ascribes to the Great King
some knowledge of the God of the Jews, and even some
faith in Him. For this reason it has been suggested
that either the chronicler or some previous writer who
translated the decree out of the Persian language, in
which of course it must have been first issued, inserted
the word Jehovah in place of the name of Ormazd or
some other god worshipped by Cyrus, and shaped the
phrases generally so as to commend them to Jewish
sympathies. Are we driven to this position? We
have seen that when Cyrus got possession of Babylon
he had no scruple in claiming the indigenous divinity
Merodach as his god. Is it not then entirely in accordance
with his eclectic habit of mind—not to mention
his diplomatic art in humouring the prejudices of his
subjects—that he should draw up a decree in which he
designed to show favour to an exceptionally religious
people in language that would be congenial to them?
Like most men of higher intelligence even among
polytheistic races, Cyrus may have believed in one
supreme Deity, who, he may have supposed, was
worshipped under different names by different nations.
The final clause of Ezra i. 3 is misleading, as it stands
in the Authorised Version; and the Revisers, with their
habitual caution, have only so far improved upon it as
to permit the preferable rendering to appear in the
margin, where we have generally to look for the
opinions of the more scholarly as well as the more
courageous critics. Yet even the Authorised Version
renders the same words correctly in the very next verse.
There is no occasion to print the clause, "He is the
God," as a parenthesis, so as to make Cyrus inform the
world that Jehovah is the one real divinity. The more
probable rendering in idea is also the more simple one
in construction. Removing the superfluous brackets, we
read right on: "He is the God which is in Jerusalem"—i.e.,
we have an indication who "Jehovah" is for the
information of strangers to the Jews who may read
the edict. With this understanding let us examine
the leading items of the decree. It was proclaimed by
the mouth of king's messengers, and it was also
preserved in writing, so that possibly the original
inscription may be recovered from among the burnt
clay records that lie buried in the ruins of Persian
cities. The edict is addressed to the whole empire.
Cyrus announces to all his subjects his intention to
rebuild the temple at Jerusalem. Then he specialises
the aim of the decree by granting a licence to the Jews
to go up to Jerusalem and undertake this work. It is a
perfectly free offer to all Jews in exile without exception.
"Who is there among you"—i.e., among all
the subjects of the empire—"of all His" (Jehovah's)
"people, his God be with him, and let him go up to
Jerusalem," etc. In particular we may observe the
following points:—
First, Cyrus begins by acknowledging that "the God
of Heaven"—whom he identifies with the Hebrew
"Jehovah," in our version of the edict—has given him
his dominions. It is possible to treat this introductory
sentence as a superficial formula; but there is no
reason for so ungenerous an estimate of it. If we
accept the words in their honest intention, we must see
in them a recognition of the hand of God in the setting
up of kingdoms. Two opposite kinds of experience
awaken in men a conviction of God's presence in their
lives—great calamities and great successes. The influence
of the latter experience is not so often acknowledged
as that of the former, but probably it is equally effective,
at least in extreme instances. There is something
awful in the success of a world-conqueror. When the
man is a destroyer, spreading havoc and misery, like
Attila, he regards himself as a "Scourge of God"; and
when he is a vulgar impersonation of selfish greed like
Napoleon, he thinks he is swept on by a mighty tide of
destiny. In both instances the results are too stupendous
to be attributed to purely human energy. But in
the case of Cyrus, an enlightened and noble-minded
hero is bringing liberty and favour to the victims of
a degraded tyranny, so that he is hailed by some of
them as the Anointed King raised up by their God, and
therefore it is not unnatural that he should ascribe his
brilliant destiny to a Divine influence.
Secondly, Cyrus actually asserts that God has
charged him to build Him a temple at Jerusalem.
Again, this may be the language of princely courtesy;
but the noble spirit which breathes through the decree
encourages us to take a higher view of it, and to
refrain from reading minimising comments between
the lines. It is probable that those eager, patriotic
Jews who had got the ear of Cyrus—or he would
never have issued such a decree as this—may have
urged their suit by showing him predictions like that
of Isaiah xliv. 28, in which God describes Himself as
One "that saith of Cyrus, He is My shepherd, and
shall perform all my pleasure: even saying of Jerusalem,
Let her be built; and, Let the foundations of the temple
be laid." Possibly Cyrus is here alluding to that
very utterance, although, as we have seen, Josephus is
incorrect in inserting a reference to Hebrew prophecy
in the very words of the decree, and in suggesting that
the fulfilment of prophecy was the chief end Cyrus had
in view.
It is a historical fact that Cyrus did help to build
the temple; he supplied funds from the public treasury
for that object. We can understand his motives for
doing so. If he desired the favour of the God of the
Jews, he would naturally aid in restoring His shrine.
Nabonidas had fallen, it was thought, through neglecting
the worship of the gods. Cyrus seems to have been
anxious to avoid this mistake, and to have given attention
to the cultivation of their favour. If, as seems
likely, some of the Jews had impressed his mind with
the greatness of Jehovah, he might have desired to
promote the building of the temple at Jerusalem with
exceptional assiduity.
In the next place, Cyrus gives the captive Jews
leave to go up to Jerusalem. The edict is purely
permissive. There is to be no expulsion of Jews
from Babylon. Those exiles who did not choose to
avail themselves of the boon so eagerly coveted by the
patriotic few were allowed to remain unmolested in
peace and prosperity. The restoration was voluntary.
This free character of the movement would give it a
vigour quite out of proportion to the numbers of those
who took part in it, and would, at the same time, ensure
a certain elevation of tone and spirit. It is an image of
the Divine restoration of souls, which is confined to
those who accept it of their own free will.
Further, the object of the return, as it is distinctly
specified, is simply to rebuild the temple, not—at all
events in the first instance—to build up and fortify a
city on the ruins of Jerusalem; much less does it imply
a complete restoration of Palestine to the Jews, with a
wholesale expulsion of its present inhabitants from their
farms and vineyards. Cyrus does not seem to have contemplated
any such revolution. The end in view was
neither social nor political, but purely religious. That
more would come out of it, that the returning exiles
must have houses to live in and must protect those
houses from the brigandage of the Bedouin, and that
they must have fields producing food to support them
and their families, are inevitable consequences. Here
is the germ and nucleus of a national restoration.
Still it remains true that the immediate object—the
only object named in the decree—is the rebuilding of
the temple. Thus we see from the first that the idea
which characterises the restoration is religious. The
exiles return as a Church. The goal of their pilgrimage
is a holy site. The one work they are to aim at
achieving is to further the worship of their God.
Lastly, the inhabitants of the towns in which the
Jews have been settled are directed to make contributions
towards the work. It is not quite clear whether
these "Benevolences" are to be entirely voluntary.
A royal exhortation generally assumes something of
the character of a command. Probably rich men were
requisitioned to assist in providing the gold and silver
and other stores, together with the beasts of burden
which would be needed for the great expedition. This
was to supplement what Cyrus calls "the free-will
offering for the house of God that is in Jerusalem"—i.e.,
either the gifts of the Jews who remained in
Babylon, or possibly his own contribution from the
funds of the state. We are reminded of the Hebrews
spoiling the Egyptians at the Exodus. The prophet
Haggai saw in this a promise of further supplies, when
the wealth of foreign nations would be poured into the
temple treasury in donations of larger dimensions from
the heathen. "For thus saith the Lord of hosts," he
writes, "Yet once, it is a little while, and I will shake
the heavens, and the earth, and the sea, and the dry
land; ... and the desirable things of all nations shall
come, and I will fill this house with glory, saith the
Lord of hosts. The silver is mine, and the gold is
mine, saith the Lord of hosts."Hag. ii. 6-8.
The assumed willingness of their neighbours to contribute
at a hint from the king suggests that the exiles
were not altogether unpopular. On the other hand,
it is quite possible that, under the oppression of
Nabonidas, they had suffered much wrong from these
neighbours. A public persecution always entails a
large amount of private cruelty, because the victims are
not protected by the law from the greed and petty spite
of those who are mean enough to take advantage of
their helpless condition. Thus it may be that Cyrus
was aiming at a just return in his recommendation to
his subjects to aid the Jews.
Such was the decree. Now let us look at the execution
of it.
In the first place, there was a ready response on the
part of some of the Jews, seen especially in the conduct
of their leaders, who "rose up," bestirring themselves
to prepare for the expedition, like expectant
watchers released from their weary waiting and set
free for action. The social leaders are mentioned first,
which is a clear indication that the theocracy, so
characteristic of the coming age, was not yet the recognised
order. A little later the clergy will be placed
before the laity, but at present the laity are still named
before the clergy. The order is domestic. The leaders
are the heads of great families—"the chief of the
fathers." For such people to be named first is also an
indication that the movement did not originate in the
humbler classes. Evidently a certain aristocratic spirit
permeated it. The wealthy merchants may have been
loath to leave their centres of commerce, but the nobility
of blood and family were at the head of the crusade.
We have not yet reached the age of the democracy.
It is clear, further, that there was some organisation
among the exiles. They were not a mere crowd of
refugees. The leaders were of the tribes of Judah and
Benjamin. We shall have to consider the relation of
the Ten Tribes to the restoration later on; here it may
be enough to observe in passing that representatives
of the Southern Kingdom take the lead in a return to
Jerusalem, the capital of that kingdom. Next come the
ecclesiastical leaders, the priests and Levites. Already
we find these two orders named separately—an important
fact in relation to the development of Judaism that
will meet us again, with some hints here and there to
throw light upon the meaning of it.
There is another side to this response. It was by no
means the case that the whole of the exiles rose up in
answer to the edict of Cyrus; only those leaders and
only those people responded "whose spirit God had
raised." The privilege was offered to all the Jews, but
it was not accepted by all. We cannot but be impressed
by the religious faith and the inspired insight
of our historian in this matter. He saw that Cyrus
issued his edict because the Lord had stirred up his
spirit; now he attributes the prompting to make use
of the proffered liberty to a similar Divine influence.
Thus the return was a movement of heaven-sent
impulses throughout. Ezekiel's vision of the dry bones
showed the deplorable condition of the Northern Kingdom
in his day—stripped bare, shattered to fragments,
scattered abroad. The condition of Judah was only
second to this ghastly national ruin. But now to Judah
there had come the breath of the Divine Spirit which
Ezekiel saw promised for Israel, and a living army was
rising up in new energy. Here we may discover the
deeper, the more vital source of the return. Without
this the edict of Cyrus would have perished as a dead
letter. Even as it was, only those people who felt the
breath of the Divine afflatus rose up for the arduous
undertaking. So to-day there is no return to the
heavenly Jerusalem and no rebuilding the fallen temple
of human nature except in the power of the Spirit of
God. Regeneration always goes hand in hand with redemption—the
work of the Spirit with the work of the
Christ. In the particular case before us, the special
effect of the Divine influence is "to raise the spirit"—i.e.,
to infuse life, to rouse to activity and hope and high
endeavour. A people thus equipped is fit for any
expedition of toil or peril. Like Gideon's little, sifted
army, the small band of inspired men who rose up to
accept the decree of Cyrus carried within their breasts
a superhuman power, and therefore a promise of ultimate
success. The aim with which they set out confirmed
the religious character of the whole enterprise. They
accepted the limitations and they gladly adopted the
one definite purpose suggested in the edict of Cyrus.
They proceeded "to build the house of the Lord which
is in Jerusalem." This was their only confessed aim. It
would have been impossible for patriots such as these
Jews were not to feel some national hopes and dreams
stirring within them; still we have no reason to believe
that the returning exiles were not loyal to the spirit of
the decree of the Great King. The religious aim was
the real occasion of the expedition. So much the more
need was there to go in the Spirit and strength of God.
Only they whose spirit God has raised are fit to build
God's temple, because work for God must be done in
the Spirit of God.
Secondly, the resident neighbours fell in with the
recommendation of the king ungrudgingly, and gave
rich contributions for the expedition. They could not
go themselves, but they could have a share in the work
by means of their gifts—as the home Church can share
in the foreign mission she supports. The acceptance
of these bounties by the Jews does not well accord
with their subsequent conduct when they refused the
aid of their Samaritan neighbours in the actual work
of building the temple. It has an ugly look, as though
they were willing to take help from all sources excepting
where any concessions in return would be expected
on the part of those who were befriending them.
However, it is just to remember that the aid was
invited and offered by Cyrus, not solicited by the
Jews.
Thirdly, the execution of the decree appears to have
been honestly and effectively promoted by its author.
In accordance with his generous encouragement of the
Jews to rebuild their temple, Cyrus restored the sacred
vessels that had been carried off by Nebuchadnezzar
on the occasion of the first Chaldæan raid on Jerusalem,
and deposited in a temple at Babylon nearly seventy
years before the time of the return. No doubt these
things were regarded as of more importance than other
spoils of war. It would be supposed that the patron
god of the conquered people was humiliated when the
instruments of his worship were offered to Bel or Nebo.
Perhaps it was thought that some charm attaching to
them would bring luck to the city in which they were
guarded. When Nabonidas was seized with frantic
terror at the approach of the Persian hosts, he brought
the idols of the surrounding nations to Babylon for his
protection. The reference to the temple vessels, and
the careful and detailed enumeration of them, without
the mention of any image, is a clear proof that, although
before the captivity the majority of the Jews may have
consisted of idolaters, there was no idol in the temple
at Jerusalem. Had there been one there Nebuchadnezzar
would most certainly have carried it off as the
greatest trophy of victory. In default of images, he
had to make the most of the gold and silver plate used
in the sacrificial ceremonies.
Viewed in this connection, the restitution of the stolen
vessels by Cyrus appears to be more than an act of
generosity or justice. A certain religious import belongs
to it. It put an end to an ancient insult offered
by Babylon to the God of Israel; and it might be taken
as an act of homage offered to Jehovah by Cyrus. Yet
it was only a restitution, a return of what was God's
before, and so a type of every gift man makes to God.
It has been noticed that the total number of the
vessels restored does not agree with the sum of the
numbers of the several kinds of vessels. The total is
5400; but an addition of the list of the vessels only
amounts to 2499. Perhaps the less valuable articles
are omitted from the detailed account; or possibly there
is some error of transcription, and if so the question
is, in which direction shall we find it? It may be
that the total was too large. On the other hand, in
1 Esdras nearly the same high total is given—viz.,
5469—and there the details are made to agree with it
by an evidently artificial manipulation of the numbers.1 Esdras ii. 14.
This gives some probability to the view that the total is
correct, and that the error must be in the numbers of
the several items. The practical importance of these
considerations is that they lead us to a high estimate
of the immense wealth of the Old Temple treasures.
Thus they suggest the reflection that much devotion
and generosity had been shown in collecting such stores
of gold and silver in previous ages. They help us to
picture the sumptuous ritual of the first temple, with
the "barbaric splendour" of a rich display of the
precious metals. Therefore they show that the generosity
of Cyrus in restoring so great a hoard was genuine and
considerable. It might have been urged that after the
treasures had been lying for two generations in a heathen
temple the original owners had lost all claim upon them.
It might have been said that they had been contaminated
by this long residence among the abominations of
Babylonian idolatry. The restoration of them swept
away all such ideas. What was once God's belongs
to Him by right for ever. His property is inalienable;
His claims never lapse with time, never fail through
change.
It is not without significance that the treasurer who
handed over their temple-property to the Jews was
named "Mithredath"—a word that means "given
by Mithra," or "devoted to Mithra." This suggests
that the Persian sun-god was honoured among the
servants of Cyrus, and yet that one who by name at
least was especially associated with this divinity was
constrained to honour the God of Israel. Next to
Judaism and Christianity, the worship of Mithra showed
the greatest vitality of all religions in Western Asia, and
later even in Europe. So vigorous was it as recently as
the commencement of the Christian era, that M. Renan
has remarked, that if the Roman world had not become
Christian it would have become Mithrastic. In those
regions where the dazzling radiance and burning heat
of the sun are felt as they are not even imagined in our
chill, gloomy climate, it was naturally supposed that if
any visible God existed He must be found in the great
fiery centre of the world's light and life. Our own day
has seen the scientific development of the idea that the
sun's force is the source of all the energy of nature. In
the homage paid by one of the ancient followers of
Mithra, the sun-god, to the God of Israel, may we
not see an image of the recognition of the claims of
the Supreme by our priests of the sun—Kepler, Newton,
Faraday? Men must be more blind than the slaves
of Mithra if they cannot recognise an awful, invisible
energy behind and above the forces of the solar system—nay
more, a living Spirit—God!
CHAPTER IV.
THE SECOND EXODUS.
Ezra ii. 1-67.
The journey of the returning exiles from Babylon
has some points of resemblance to the exodus
of their fathers from Egypt. On both occasions the
Israelites had been suffering oppression in a foreign
land. Deliverance had come to the ancient Hebrews in
so wonderful a way that it could only be described as a
miracle of God: no material miracle was recorded of
the later movement; and yet it was so marvellously
providential that the Jews were constrained to acknowledge
that the hand of God was not less concerned in it.
But there were great differences between the two
events. In the original Hegira of the Hebrews a horde
of slaves was fleeing from the land of their brutal
masters; in the solemn pilgrimage of the second
exodus the Jews were able to set out with every
encouragement from the conqueror of their national
enemy. On the other hand, while the flight from
Egypt led to liberty, the expedition from Babylon did
not include an escape from the foreign yoke. The
returning exiles were described as "children of the
province"Ezra ii. 1.
—i.e., of the Persian province of Judæa—and
their leader bore the title of a Persian governor.Tirshatha. Ezra ii. 63.
Zerubbabel was no new Moses. The first exodus
witnessed the birth of a nation; the second saw only a
migration within the boundaries of an empire, sanctioned
by the ruler because it did not include the deliverance
of the subject people from servitude.
In other respects the condition of the Israelites who
took part in the later expedition contrasts favourably
with that of their ancestors under Moses. In the arts
of civilisation, of course, they were far superior to the
crushed Egyptian bondmen. But the chief distinction
lay in the matter of religion. At length, in these days
of Cyrus, the people were ripe to accept the faith of the
great teachers who hitherto had been as voices crying
in the wilderness. This fact signalises the immense
difference between the Jews in every age previous to
the exile, and the Jews of the return. In earlier
periods they appear as a kingdom, but not as a Church;
in the later age they are no longer a kingdom, but they
have become a Church. The kingdom had been mainly
heathenish and idolatrous in its religion, and most
abominably corrupt in its morals, with only a thin
streak of purer faith and conduct running through the
course of its history. But the new Church, formed out
of captives purified in the fires of persecution, consisted
of a body of men and women who heartily embraced
the religion to which but few of their forefathers had
attained, and who were even ready to welcome a more
rigorous development of its cult. Thus they became
a highly developed Church. They were consolidated
into a Puritan Church in discipline, and a High Church
in ritual.
It must be borne in mind that only a fraction of the
Jews in the East went back to Palestine. Nor were they
who tarried, in all cases, the more worldly, enamoured
of the fleshpots. In the Talmud it is said that only
the chaff returned, while the wheat remained behind.
Both Ezra and Nehemiah sprang from families still
residing in the East long after the return under Zerubbabel.
It is in accordance with these conditions that we
come across one of the most curious characteristics of
the Books of Ezra and Nehemiah—a characteristic which
they share with Chronicles, viz., the frequent insertion
of long lists of names.
Thus the second chapter of Ezra contains a list of the
families who went up to Jerusalem in response to the
edict of Cyrus. One or two general considerations
arise here.
Since it was not a whole nation that migrated from
the plains of Babylon across the great Syrian desert,
but only some fragments of a nation, we shall not have
to consider the fortunes and destinies of a composite
unity, such as is represented by a kingdom. The
people of God must now be regarded disjunctively. It
is not the blessing of Israel, or the blessing of Judah,
that faith now anticipates; but the blessing of those
men, women, and children who fear God and walk in
His ways, though, of course, for the present they are
all confined to the limits of the Jewish race.
On the other hand, it is to be observed that this individualism
was not absolute. The people were arranged
according to their families, and the names that distinguished
the families were not those of the present
heads of houses, but the names of ancestors, possibly
of captives taken down to Babylon by Nebuchadnezzar.
As some of these names occur in later expeditions, it is
plain that the whole of the families they represented
were not found in the first body of pilgrims. Still the
people were grouped in family order. The Jews
anticipated the modern verdict of sociology, that the
social unit is the family, not the individual. Judaism
was, through and through, a domestic religion.
Further, it is to be noted that a sort of caste feeling
was engendered in the midst of the domestic arrangement
of the people. It emerges already in the second
chapter of Ezra in the cases of families that could not
trace their genealogy, and it bears bitter fruit in some
pitiable scenes in the later history of the returned
people. Not only national rights, but also religious
privileges, come more and more to depend on purity
of birth and descent. Religion is viewed as a question
of blood relationship. Thus even with the very appearance
of that new-born individualism which might be
expected to counteract it, even when the recovered
people is composed entirely of volunteers, a strong
racial current sets in, which grows in volume until in
the days of our Lord the fact of a man's being a Jew is
thought a sufficient guarantee of his enjoying the favour
of Heaven, until in our own day such a book as "Daniel
Deronda" portrays the race-enthusiasm of the Israelite
as the very heart and essence of his religion.
We have three copies of the list of the returning
exiles—one in Ezra ii., the second in Nehemiah vii., and
the third in 1 Esdras v. They are evidently all of them
transcripts of the same original register; but though
they agree in the main, they differ in details, giving
some variation in the names and considerable diversity
in the numbers—Esdras coming nearer to Ezra than
to Nehemiah, as we might expect. The total, however,
is the same in every case, viz., 42,360 (besides 7337
servants)—a large number, which shows how important
the expedition was considered to be.
The name of Zerubbabel appears first. He was the
lineal descendant of the royal house, the heir to the
throne of David. This is a most significant fact. It
shows that the exiles had retained some latent national
organisation, and it gives a faint political character to
the return, although, as we have already observed, the
main object of it was religious. To fervent readers of
old prophecies strange hopes would dawn, hopes of the
Messiah whose advent Isaiah, in particular, had predicted.
Was this new shoot from the stock of David
indeed the Lord's Anointed? Those who secretly
answered the question to themselves in the affirmative
were doomed to much perplexity and not a little disappointment.
Nevertheless Zerubbabel was a lower, a
provisional, a temporary Messiah. God was educating
His people through their illusions. As one by one the
national heroes failed to satisfy the large hopes of the
prophets, they were left behind, but the hopes still
maintained their unearthly vitality. Hezekiah, Josiah,
Zerubbabel, the Maccabees all passed, and in passing
they all helped to prepare for One who alone could
realise the dreams of seers and singers in all the best
ages of Hebrew thought and life.
Still the bulk of the people do not seem to have been
dominated by the Messianic conception. It is one
characteristic of the return that the idea of the personal,
God-sent, but human Messiah recedes; and another,
older, and more persistent Jewish hope comes to the
front—viz., the hope in God Himself as the Saviour
of His people and their Vindicator. Cyrus could not
have suspected any political designs, or he would not
have made Zerubbabel the head of the expedition.
Evidently "Sheshbazzar, the prince of Judah," to whom
Cyrus handed over the sacred vessels of the temple, is
the same man as Zerubbabel, because in v. 16 we read
that Sheshbazzar laid the foundation of the temple,
while in iii. 8 this work is ascribed to Zerubbabel,
with whom the origin of the work is again connected
in v. 2.
The second name is Jeshua.This name is a later form of "Joshua"; the older form of the
name is used for the same person in Hag. i. 1, 14, and Zech. iii. 1.
The man who bears
it was afterwards the high-priest at Jerusalem. It is
impossible to say whether he had exercised any sacerdotal
functions during the exile; but his prominent
place shows that honour was now offered to his priesthood.
Still he comes after the royal prince.
Then follow nine names without any description.Of course the Nehemiah and Mordecai in this list are different
persons from those who bear the same names in the Books of Nehemiah
and Esther and belong to later dates.
Nehemiah's list includes another name, which seems to
have dropped out of the list in Ezra. These, together
with the two already mentioned, make an exact dozen.
It cannot be an accident that twelve names stand at
the head of the list; they must be meant to represent
the twelve tribes—like the twelve apostles in the
Gospels, and the twelve gates of the New Jerusalem in
the Apocalypse. Thus it is indicated that the return is
for all Israel, not exclusively for the Judæan Hebrews.
Undoubtedly the bulk of the pilgrims were descendants
of captives from the Southern Kingdom.See Ezra i. 5.
The dispersion
of the Northern Kingdom had begun two centuries
earlier than Nebuchadnezzar's invasion of Judæa; it
had been carried on by successive removals of the
people in successive wars. Probably most of these
early exiles had been driven farther north than those
districts which were assigned to the Judæan captives;
probably, too; they had been scattered far and wide;
lastly, we know that they had been sunken in an
idolatrous imitation of the manners and customs of
their heathen neighbours, so that there was little to
differentiate them from the people among whom they
were domiciled. Under all these circumstances, is it
remarkable that the ten tribes have disappeared from
the observation of the world? They have vanished,
but only as the Goths have vanished in Italy, as the
Huguenot refugees have vanished in England—by
mingling with the resident population. We have not
to search for them in Tartary, or South America, or any
other remote region of the four continents, because we
have no reason to believe that they are now a separate
people.
Still a very small "Remnant" was faithful. This
"Remnant" was welcome to find its way back to
Palestine with the returning Judæans. As the immediate
object of the expedition was to rebuild the
temple at the rival capital of Jerusalem, it was not
to be expected that patriots of the Northern Kingdom
would be very eager to join it. Yet some descendants
of the ten tribes made their way back. Even in New
Testament times the genealogy of the prophetess Anna
was reckoned from the tribe of Asher.Luke ii. 36.
It is most
improbable that the twelve leaders were actually descendants
of the twelve tribes. But just as in the
case of the apostles, whom we cannot regard as thus
descended, they represented all Israel. Their position
at the head of the expedition proclaimed that the
"middle wall of partition" was broken down. Thus
we see that redemption tends to liberalise the redeemed,
that those who are restored to God are also brought
back to the love of their brethren.
The list that follows the twelve is divisible into two
sections. First, we have a number of families; then
there is a change in the tabulation, and the rest of the
people are arranged according to their cities. The
most simple explanation of this double method is that
the families constitute the Jerusalem citizens.
The towns named in the second division are all
situated in the neighbourhood of Jerusalem. The only
part of Palestine as yet restored to the Jews was
Jerusalem, with the towns in its vicinity. The
southern half of Judæa remained in the hands of
the Edomites, who begrudged to the Jews even the resumption
of the northern portion—and very naturally,
seeing that the Edomites had held it for half a century,
a time which gives some assurance of permanent possession.
This must be borne in mind when we come
across the troubles between the returned exiles and
their neighbours in Palestine. We can never understand
a quarrel until we have heard both sides. There
is no Edomite history of the wars of Israel. No doubt
such a history would put another face on the events—just
as a Chinese history of the English wars in the
East would do, to the shame of the Christian nation.
After the leaders and the people generally come the
successive orders of the temple ministry. We begin
with the priests, and among these a front rank is given
to the house of Jeshua. The high-priest himself had
been named earlier, next to Zerubbabel, among the
leaders of the nation, so distinct was his position from
that of the ordinary priesthood. Next to the priests
we have the Levites, who are now sharply separated
from the first order of the ministry. The very small
number of Levites in comparison with the large number
of priests is startling—over four thousand priests and
only seventy-four Levites! The explanation of this
anomaly may be found in what had been occurring
in Chaldæa. Ezekiel declared that the Levites were
to be degraded because of their sinful conduct.Ezek. xliv. 9-16.
We
see from the arrangement in Ezra that the prophet's
message was obeyed. The Levites were now separated
from the priests, and set down to a lower function.
This could not have been acceptable to them. Therefore
it is not at all surprising that the majority of them
held aloof from the expedition for rebuilding the temple
in sullen resentment, or at best in cool indifference,
refusing to take part in a work the issue of which
would exhibit their humiliation to menial service. But
the seventy-four had grace to accept their lowly lot.
The Levites are not set in the lowest place. They
are distinguished from several succeeding orders. The
singers, the children of Asaph, were really Levites; but
they form a separate and important class, for the
temple service was to be choral—rich and gladsome.
The door-keepers are a distinct order, lowly but honourable,
for they are devoted to the service of God, for
whom all work is glorious.
"They also serve who only stand and wait."
Next come the Nethinims, or temple-helots. These
seem to have been aborigines of Canaan who had
been pressed into the service of the old Jerusalem
temple, like the Gibeonites, the hewers of wood and
drawers of water. After the Nethinims come "the
children of Solomon's servants," another order of
slaves, apparently the descendants of the war captives
whom Solomon had assigned to the work of building
the temple. It shows what thorough organisation was
preserved among the captives that these bondsmen
were retained in their original position and brought
back to Jerusalem. To us this is not altogether
admirable. We may be grieved to see slavery thus
enlisted in the worship of God. But we must recollect
that even with the Christian gospel in her hand, for
centuries, the Church had her slaves, the monasteries
their serfs. No idea is of slower growth than the idea
of the brotherhood of man.
So far all was in order; but there were exceptional
cases. Some of the people could not prove their
Israelite descent, and accordingly they were set aside
from their brethren. Some of the priests even could
not trace their genealogy. Their condition was regarded
as more serious, for the right of office was purely
hereditary. The dilemma brought to light a sad sense
of loss. If only there were a priest with the Urim and
Thummim, this antique augury of flashing gems might
settle the difficulty! But such a man was not to be
found. The Urim and Thummim, together with the
Ark and the Shekinah, are named by the rabbis
among the precious things that were never recovered.
The Jews looked back with regret to the wonderful
time when the privilege of consulting an oracle had
been within the reach of their ancestors. Thus they
shared the universal instinct of mankind that turns
fondly to the past for memories of a golden age, the
glories of which have faded and left us only the dingy
scenes of every-day life. In this instinct we may
detect a transference to the race of the vaguely perceived
personal loss of each man as he reflects on those far-off,
dream-like child-days, when even he was a "mighty
prophet," a "seer blest," one who had come into the
world "trailing clouds of glory." Alas! he perceives
that the mystic splendours have faded into the light of
common day, if they have not even given place to the
gloom of doubt, or the black night of sin. Then, taking
himself as a microcosm, he ascribes a similar fate to
the race.
Nothing is more inspiriting in the gospel of our Lord
Jesus Christ than its complete reversal of this dismal
process of reflection, and its promise of the Golden Age
in the future. The most exalted Hebrew prophecy
anticipated something of the kind; here and there it lit
up its sombre pages with the hope of a brilliant future.
The attitude of the Jews in the present instance, when
they simply set a question on one side, waiting till a
priest with Urim and Thummim should appear, suggests
too faint a belief in the future to be prophetic. But
like Socrates' hint at the possibility of one arising who
should solve the problems which were inscrutable to
the Athenians of his day, it points to a sense of need.
When at length Christ came as "the Light of the
World," it was to supply a widely felt want. It is true
He brought no Urim and Thummim. The supreme
motive for thankfulness in this connection is that His
revelation is so much more ample than the wizard
guidance men had formerly clung to, as to be like the
broad sunshine in comparison with the shifting lights
of magic gems. Though He gave no formal answers
to petty questions such as those for which the Jews
would resort to a priest, as their heathen neighbours
resorted to a soothsayer, He shed a wholesome radiance
on the path of life, so that His followers have come to
regard the providing of a priest with Urim and Thummim
as at best an expedient adapted to the requirements of
an age of superstition.
If the caravan lacked the privilege of an oracle, care
was taken to equip it as well as the available means
would allow. These were not abundant. There were
servants, it is true. There were beasts of burden too—camels,
horses, asses; but these were few in comparison
to the numbers of the host—only at the rate of one
animal to a family of four persons. Yet the expedition
set out in a semi-royal character, for it was protected
by a guard of a thousand horsemen sent by Cyrus.
Better than this, it possessed a spirit of enthusiasm
which triumphed over poverty and hardship, and spread
a great gladness through the people. Now at length
it was possible to take down the harps from the willows.
Besides the temple choristers, two hundred singing men
and women accompanied the pilgrims to help to give
expression to the exuberant joyousness of the host.
The spirit of the whole company was expressed in a
noble lyric that has become familiar to us:—
"When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion,
We were like unto them that dream.
Then was our mouth filled with laughter,
And our tongue with singing:
Then said they among the nations,
The Lord hath done great things for them.
The Lord hath done great things for us;
Whereof we are glad."Psalm cxxvi. 1-3.
CHAPTER V.
THE NEW TEMPLE.
Ezra ii. 68-iii.
Unlike the historian of the exodus from Egypt,
our chronicler gives no account of adventures
of the pilgrims on the road to Palestine, although much
of their way led them through a wild and difficult
country. So huge a caravan as that which accompanied
Zerubbabel must have taken several months to
cover the eight hundred miles between Babylon and
Jerusalem;I.e., if the route was the usual one, by Tadmor (Palmyra). The
easier but roundabout way by Aleppo would have occupied a still
longer time.
for even Ezra with his smaller company
spent four months on their journey.Ezra vii. 8, 9.
A dreary desert
stretched over the vast space between the land of
exile and the old home of the Jews among the mountains
of the West; and here the commissariat would
tax the resources of the ablest organisers. It is possible
that the difficulties of the desert were circumvented in
the most prosaic manner—by simply avoiding this
barren, waterless region, and taking a long sweep
round by the north of Syria. Passing over the pilgrimage,
which afforded him no topics of interest, without
a word of comment, the chronicler plants us at once
in the midst of the busy scenes at Jerusalem, where
we see the returned exiles, at length arrived at the end
of their tedious journey, preparing to accomplish the
one purpose of their expedition.
The first step was to provide the means for building
the temple, and contributions were made for this object
by all classes of the community—as we gather from
the more complete account in NehemiahNeh. vii. 70-72.
—from the
prince and the aristocracy to the general public, for it
was to be a united work. And yet it is implied by the
narrative that many had no share in it. These people
may have been poor originally or impoverished by their
journey, and not at all deficient in generosity or lacking in
faith. Still we often meet with those who have enough
enthusiasm to applaud a good work and yet not enough
to make any sacrifice in promoting it. It is expressly
stated that the gifts were offered freely. No tax was
imposed by the authorities; but there was no backwardness
on the part of the actual donors, who were impelled
by a glowing devotion to open their purses without
stint. Lastly, those who contributed did so "after
their ability." This is the true "proportionate giving."
For all to give an equal sum is impossible unless the
poll-tax is to be fixed at a miserable minimum. Even
for all to give the same proportion is unjust. There are
poor men who ought not to sacrifice a tenth of what
they receive; there are rich men who will be guilty
of unfaithfulness to their stewardship if they do not
devote far more than this fraction of their vast revenues
to the service of God and their fellow-men. It would
be reasonable for some of the latter only to reserve
the tithe for their own use and to give away nine-tenths
of their income, for even then they would not be
giving "after their ability."
After the preliminary step of collecting the contributions,
the pilgrims proceed to the actual work they
have in hand. In this they are heartily united; they
gather themselves together "as one man" in a great
assembly, which, if we may trust the account in Esdras,
is held in an open space by the first gate towards the
east,1 Esdras v. 47.
and therefore close to the site of the old temple,
almost among its very ruins. The unity of spirit and
the harmony of action which characterise the commencement
of the work are good auguries of its success.
This is to be a popular undertaking. Sanctioned by
Cyrus, promoted by the aristocracy, it is to be carried
out with the full co-operation of the multitude. The
first temple had been the work of a king; the second
is to be the work of a people. The nation had been
dazzled by the splendour of Solomon's court, and had
basked in its rays so that the after-glow of them
lingered in the memories of ages even down to the time
of our Lord.Matt. vi. 29.
But there was a healthier spirit in the
humbler work of the returned exiles, when, forced to
dispense with the king they would gladly have accepted,
they undertook the task of building the new temple
themselves.
In the centre of the mosque known as the "Dome of
the Rock" there is a crag with the well-worn remains
of steps leading up to the top of it, and with channels
cut in its surface. This has been identified by recent
explorers as the site of the great Altar of Burnt-offerings.
It is on the very crest of Mount Moriah.
Formerly it was thought that it was the site of the
inmost shrine of the temple, known as "The Holy
of Holies," but the new view, which seems to be fairly
established, gives an unexpected prominence to the
altar. This rude square structure of unhewn stone
was the most elevated and conspicuous object in
temple. The altar was to Judaism what the cross is
to Christianity. Both for us and for the Jews what is
most vital and precious in religion is the dark mystery
of a sacrifice. The first work of the temple builders
was to set up the altar again on its old foundation.
Before a stone of the temple was laid, the smoke of
sacrificial fires might be seen ascending to heaven
from the highest crag of Moriah. For fifty years all
sacrifices had ceased. Now with haste, in fear of
hindrance from jealous neighbours, means were provided
to re-establish them before any attempt was
made to rebuild the temple. It is not quite easy to see
what the writer means when, after saying "And they
set the altar upon his bases," he adds, "for fear was
upon them because of the people of those countries."
The suggestion that the phrase may be varied so as
to mean that the awe which this religious work inspired
in the heathen neighbours prevented them from
molesting it is far-fetched and improbable. Nor is it
likely that the writer intends to convey the idea that
the Jews hastened the building of the altar as a sort of
Palladium, trusting that its sacrifices would protect them
in case of invasion, for this is to attribute too low and
materialistic a character to their religion. More reasonable
is the explanation that they hastened the work
because they feared that their neighbours might either
hinder it or wish to have a share in it—an equally
objectionable thing, as subsequent events showed.
The chronicler distinctly states that the sacrifices
which were now offered, as well as the festivals which
were established later, were all designed to meet the
requirements of the law of Moses—that everything might
be done "as it is written in the law of Moses the man
of God." This statement does not throw much light
on the history of the Pentateuch. We know that that
work was not yet in the hands of the Jews at Jerusalem,
because this was nearly eighty years before Ezra introduced
it. The sentence suggests that according to
the chronicler some law bearing the name of Moses
was known to the first body of returned exiles. We
need not regard that suggestion as a reflection from
later years. Deuteronomy may have been the law
referred to; or it may have been some rubric of
traditional usages in the possession of the priests.
Meanwhile two facts of importance come out here—first,
that the method of worship adopted by the returned
exiles was a revival of ancient customs, a return to the
old ways, not an innovation of their own, and second,
that this restoration was in careful obedience to the
known will of God. Here we have the root idea of the
Torah. It announces that God has revealed His will,
and it implies that the service of God can only be
acceptable when it is in harmony with the will of God.
The prophets taught that obedience was better than
sacrifice. The priests held that sacrifice itself was a
part of obedience. With both the primary requisite was
obedience—as it is the primary requisite in all religion.
The particular kind of sacrifice offered on the great
altar was the burnt-offering. Now we do occasionally
meet with expiatory ideas in connection with this
sacrifice; but unquestionably the principal conception
attached to the burnt-offering, in distinction from the
sin-offering, was the idea of self-dedication on the part
of the worshipper. Thus the Jews re-consecrated
themselves to God by the solemn ceremony of sacrifice,
and they kept up the thought of renewed consecration
by the regular repetition of the burnt-offering. It is
difficult for us to enter into the feelings of the people
who practised so antique a cult, even to them archaic
in its ceremonies, and dimly suggestive of primitive
rites that had their origin in far-off barbaric times.
But one thing is clear, shining as with letters of awful
fire against the black clouds of smoke that hang over
the altar. This sacrifice was always a "whole offering."
As it was being completely consumed in the flames
before their very eyes, the worshippers would see a
vivid representation of the tremendous truth that the
most perfect sacrifice is death—nay, that it is even more
than death, that it is absolute self-effacement in total
and unreserved surrender to God.
Various rites follow the great central sacrifice of the
burnt-offering, ushered in by the most joyous festival
of the year, the Feast of Tabernacles, when the people
scatter themselves over the hills round Jerusalem under
the shade of extemporised bowers made out of the
leafy boughs of trees, and celebrate the goodness of
God in the final and richest harvest, the vintage. Then
come New Moon and the other festivals that stud the
calendar with sacred dates and make the Jewish year
a round of glad festivities.
Thus, we see, the full establishment of religious
services precedes the building of the temple. A weighty
truth is enshrined in this apparently incongruous fact.
The worship itself is felt to be more important than the
house in which it is to be celebrated. That truth should
be even more apparent to us who have read the great
words of Jesus uttered by Jacob's well, "The hour
cometh when neither in this mountain, nor in Jerusalem,
shall ye worship the Father, ... when the true worshippers
shall worship the Father in spirit and truth."John iv. 21, 23.
How vain then is it to treat the erection of churches as
though it were the promotion of a revival of religion!
As surely as the empty sea-shell tossed up on the
beach can never secrete a living organism to inhabit it,
a mere building—whether it be the most gorgeous
cathedral or the plainest village meeting-house—will
never induce a living spirit of worship to dwell in its
cold desolation. Every true religious revival begins in
the spiritual sphere and finds its place of worship where
it may—in the rustic barn or on the hill-side—if no
more seemly home can be provided for it, because its
real temple is the humble and contrite heart.
Still the design of building the temple at Jerusalem
was kept constantly in view by the pilgrims. Accordingly
it was necessary to purchase materials, and in particular
the fragrant cedar wood from the distant forests of
Lebanon. These famous forests were still in the
possession of the Phœnicians, for Cyrus had allowed
a local autonomy to the busy trading people on the
northern sea-board. So in spite of the king's favour
it was requisite for the Jews to pay the full price for
the costly timber. Now, in disbursing the original
funds brought up from Babylon, it would seem that
the whole of this money was expended in labour, in
paying the wages of masons and carpenters. Therefore
the Jews had to export agricultural products—such
as corn, wine, and olive oil—in exchange for the
imports of timber they received from the Phœnicians.
The question at once arises, how did they come to be
possessed of these fruits of the soil? The answer is
supplied by a chronological remark in our narrative.
It was in the second year of their residence in Jerusalem
and its neighbourhood that the Jews commenced the
actual building of their temple. They had first patiently
cleared, ploughed, and sown the neglected fields, trimmed
and trained the vines, and tended the olive gardens, so
that they were able to reap a harvest, and to give the
surplus products for the purchase of the timber required
in building the temple. As the foundation was laid in
the spring, the order for the cedar wood must have
been sent before the harvest was reaped—pledging it
in advance with faith in the God who gives the increase.
The Phœnician woodmen fell their trees in the distant
forests of Lebanon; and the massive trunks are dragged
down to the coast, and floated along the Mediterranean
to Joppa, and then carried on the backs of camels or
slowly drawn up the heights of Judah in ox-waggons,
while the crops that are to pay for them are still green
in the fields.
Here then is a further proof of devotion on the part
of the Jews from Babylon—though it is scarcely hinted
at in the narrative, though we can only discover it by
a careful comparison of facts and dates. Labour is
expended on the fields; long weary months of waiting
are endured; when the fruits of toil are obtained, these
hard-earned stores are not hoarded by their owners:
they too, like the gold and silver of the wealthier Jews,
are gladly surrendered for the one object which kindles
the enthusiasm of every class of the community.
At length all is ready. Jeshua the priest now
precedes Zerubbabel, as well as the rest of the twelve
leaders, in inaugurating the great work. On the
Levites is laid the immediate responsibility of carrying
it through. When the foundation is laid, the priests
in their new white vestments sound their silver
trumpets, and the choir of Levites, the sons of Asaph,
clang their brazen cymbals. To the accompaniment of
this inspiriting music they sing glad psalms in praise
of God, giving thanks to Him, celebrating His goodness
and His mercy that endureth for ever toward Israel.
This is not at all like the soft music and calm chanting
of subdued cathedral services that we think of in connection
with great national festivals. The instruments
blare and clash, the choristers cry aloud, and the people
join them with a mighty shout. When shrill discordant
notes of bitter wailing, piped by a group of melancholy
old men, threaten to break the harmony of the scene,
they are drowned in the deluge of jubilation that rises up
in protest and beats down all their opposition with its
triumph of gladness. To a sober Western the scene
would seem to be a sort of religious orgy, like a wild
Bacchanalian festival, like the howling of hosts of dervishes.
But although it is the Englishman's habit to
take his religion sombrely, if not sadly, it may be well
for him to pause before pronouncing a condemnation of
those men and women who are more exuberant in the
expression of spiritual emotion. If he finds, even
among his fellow-countrymen, some who permit themselves
a more lively music and a more free method of
public worship than he is accustomed to, is it not a
mark of insular narrowness for him to visit these unconventional
people with disapprobation? In abandoning
the severe manners of their race, they are only
approaching nearer to the time-old methods of ancient
Israel.
In this clangour and clamour at Jerusalem the predominant
note was a burst of irrepressible gladness.
When God turned the captivity of Israel, mourning was
transformed into laughter. To understand the wild
excitement of the Jews, their pæan of joy, their very
ecstasy, we must recollect what they had passed through,
as well as what they were now anticipating. We must
remember the cruel disaster of the overthrow of Jerusalem,
the desolation of the exile, the sickness of weary
waiting for deliverance, the harshness of the persecution
that embittered the later years of the captivity under
Nabonidas; we must think of the toilsome pilgrimage
through the desert, with its dismal wastes, its dangers
and its terrors, followed by the patient work on the
land and gathering in of means for building the
temple. And now all this was over. The bow had
been terribly bent; the rebound was immense. People
who cannot feel strong religious gladness have never
known the heartache of deep religious grief. These
Israelites had cried out of the depths; they were prepared
to shout for joy from the heights. Perhaps we
may go further, and detect a finer note in this great
blast of jubilation, a note of higher and more solemn
gladness. The chastisement of the exile was past, and
the long-suffering mercy of God—enduring for ever—was
again smiling out on the chastened people. And
yet the positive realisation of their hopes was for the
future. The joy, therefore, was inspired by faith.
With little accomplished as yet, the sanguine people
already saw the temple in their mind's eye, with its
massive walls, its cedar chambers, and its adornment
of gold and richly dyed hangings. In the very laying of
the foundation their eager imaginations leaped forward
to the crowning of the highest pinnacles. Perhaps they
saw more; perhaps they perceived, though but dimly,
something of the meaning of the spiritual blessedness
that had been foretold by their prophets.
All this gladness centred in the building of a temple,
and therefore ultimately in the worship of God. We
take but a one-sided view of Judaism if we judge it by
the sour ideas of later Pharisaism. As it presented
itself to St. Paul in opposition to the gospel, it was
stern and loveless. But in its earlier days this religion
was free and gladsome, though, as we shall soon see,
even then a rigour of fanaticism soon crept in and
turned its joy into grief. Here, however, at the founding
of the temple, it wears its sunniest aspect. There is
no reason why religion should wear any other aspect to
the devout soul. It should be happy; for is it not the
worship of a happy God?
Nevertheless, in the midst of the almost universal
acclaim of joy and praise, there was the note of sadness
wailed by the old men, who could recollect the venerable
fane in which their fathers had worshipped before the
ruthless soldiers of Nebuchadnezzar had reduced it to
a heap of ashes. Possibly some of them had stood on
this very spot half a century before, in an agony of
despair, while they saw the cruel flames licking the
ancient stones and blazing up among the cedar beams,
and all the fine gold dimmed with black clouds of
smoke. Was it likely that the feeble flock just returned
from Babylon could ever produce such a wonder of the
world as Solomon's temple had been? The enthusiastic
younger people might be glad in their ignorance; but
their sober elders, who knew more, could only weep.
We cannot but think that, after the too common habit
of the aged, these mournful old men viewed the past in
a glamour of memory, magnifying its splendours as
they looked back on them through the mists of time.
If so, they were old indeed; for this habit, and not
years, makes real old age. He is aged who lives in
bygone days, with his face ever set to the irreparable
past, vainly regretting its retreating memories, uninterested
in the present, despondent of the future. The
true elixir of life, the secret of perpetual youth of soul,
is interest in the present and the future, with the
forward glance of faith and hope. Old men who cultivate
this spirit have young hearts though the snow is
on their heads. And such are wise. No doubt, from
the standpoint of a narrow common sense, with its
shrunken views confined to the material and the mundane,
the old men who wept had more reason for their
conduct than the inexperienced younger men who rejoiced.
But there is a prudence that comes of blindness,
and there is an imprudence that is sublime in its daring,
because it springs from faith. The despair of old age
makes one great mistake, because it ignores one great
truth. In noting that many good things have passed
away, it forgets to remember that God remains. God
is not dead! Therefore the future is safe. In the end
the young enthusiasts of Jerusalem were justified. A
prophet arose who declared that a glory which the
former temple had never known should adorn the new
temple, in spite of its humble beginning; and history
verified his word when the Lord took possession of His
house in the person of His Son.
CHAPTER VI.
THE LIMITS OF COMPREHENSION.
Ezra iv. 1-5, 24.
The fourth chapter of the Book of Ezra introduces
the vexed question of the limits of comprehension
in religion by affording a concrete illustration of it in a
very acute form. Communities, like individual organisms,
can only live by means of a certain adjustment
to their environment, in the settlement of which there
necessarily arises a serious struggle to determine what
shall be absorbed and what rejected, how far it is
desirable to admit alien bodies and to what extent it
is necessary to exclude them. The difficulty thus
occasioned appeared in the company of returned exiles
soon after they had begun to rebuild the temple at
Jerusalem. It was the seed of many troubles. The
anxieties and disappointments which overshadowed the
subsequent history nearly all of them sprang from this
one source. Here we are brought to a very distinguishing
characteristic of the Persian period. The idea
of Jewish exclusiveness which has been so singular a
feature in the whole course of Judaism right down
to our own day was now in its birth-throes. Like a
young Hercules, it had to fight for its life in its
very cradle. It first appeared in the anxious compilation
of genealogical registers and the careful sifting
of the qualifications of the pilgrims before they left
Babylon. In the events which followed the settlement
at Jerusalem it came forward with determined insistence
on its rights, in opposition to a very tempting
offer which would have been fatal to its very existence.
The chronicler introduces the neighbouring people
under the title "The adversaries of Judah and Benjamin";
but in doing so he is describing them according
to their later actions; when they first appear on
his pages their attitude is friendly, and there is no
reason to suspect any hypocrisy in it. We cannot
take them to be the remainder of the Israelite inhabitants
of the Northern Kingdom who had been permitted
to stay in their land when their brethren had been
violently expelled by the Assyrians, and who were now
either showing their old enmity to Judah and Benjamin
by trying to pick a new quarrel, or, on the other hand,
manifesting a better spirit and seeking reconciliation.
No doubt such people existed, especially in the north,
where they became, in part at least, the ancestors of the
Galileans of New Testament times. But the men now
referred to distinctly assert that they were brought
up to Palestine by the Assyrian king Esar-haddon.
Neither can they be the descendants of the Israelite
priests who were sent at the request of the colonists to
teach them the religion of the land when they were
alarmed at an incursion of lions;2 Kings xvii. 25-28.
for only one priest
is directly mentioned in the history, and though he may
have had companions and assistants, the small college
of missionaries could not be called "the people of the
land" (ver. 4). These people must be the foreign
colonists. There were Chaldæans from Babylon and
the neighbouring cities of Cutha and Sepharvaim (the
modern Mosaib), Elamites from Susa, Phœnicians from
Sidon—if we may trust Josephus hereAnt., XII. v. 5.
—and Arabs from
Petra. These had been introduced on four successive
occasions—first, as the Assyrian inscriptions show, by
Sargon, who sent two sets of colonists; then by Esar-haddon;
and, lastly, by Ashur-banipal.The "Osnappar" of Ezra iv. 10.
The various
nationalities had had time to become well amalgamated
together, for the first colonisation had happened a hundred
and eighty years, and the latest colonisation a
hundred and thirty years, before the Jews returned
from Babylon. As the successive exportations of
Israelites went on side by side with the successive
importations of foreigners, the two classes must have
lived together for some time; and even after the last
captivity of the Israelites had been effected, those who
were still left in the land would have come into contact
with the colonists. Thus, apart from the special
mission of the priest whose business it was to introduce
the rites of sacrificial worship, the popular religion
of the Israelites would have become known to the
mixed heathen people who were settled among them.
These neighbours assert that they worship the God
whom the Jews at Jerusalem worship, and that they
have sacrificed to Him since the days of Esar-haddon,
the Assyrian king to whom, in particular, they attribute
their being brought up to Palestine, possibly because
the ancestors of the deputation to Jerusalem were
among the colonists planted by that king. For a
century and a half they have acknowledged the God of
the Jews. They therefore request to be permitted to
assist in rebuilding the temple at Jerusalem. At the
first blush of it their petition looks reasonable and even
generous. The Jews were poor; a great work lay
before them; and the inadequacy of their means in
view of what they aimed at had plunged the less enthusiastic
among them into grief and despair. Here
was an offer of assistance that might prove most efficacious.
The idea of centralisation in worship of which
Josiah had made so much would be furthered by this
means, because instead of following the example of the
Israelites before the exile who had their altar at Bethel,
the colonists proposed to take part in the erection of
the one Jewish temple at Jerusalem. If their previous
habit of offering sacrifices in their own territory was
offensive to rigorous Jews, although they might speak
of it quite naively, because they were unconscious that
there was anything objectionable in it and even
regard it as meritorious, the very way to abolish
this ancient custom was to give the colonists an interest
in the central shrine. If their religion was defective,
how could it be improved better than by bringing them
into contact with the law-abiding Jews? While the
offer of the colonists promised aid to the Jews in building
the temple, it also afforded them a grand missionary
opportunity for carrying out the broad programme of
the Second Isaiah, who had promised the spread of the
light of God's grace among the Gentiles.
In view of these considerations we cannot but read
the account of the absolute rejection of the offer by
Zerubbabel, Jeshua, and the rest of the twelve leaders
with a sense of painful disappointment. The less
pleasing side of religious intensity here presents itself.
Zeal seems to be passing into fanaticism. A selfish
element mars the picture of whole-hearted devotion
which was so delightfully portrayed in the history of
the returned exiles up to this time. The leaders are
cautious enough to couch their answer in terms that
seem to hint at their inability to comply with the
friendly request of their neighbours, however much
they may wish to do so, because of the limitation
imposed upon them in the edict of Cyrus which
confined the command to build the temple at Jerusalem
to the Jews. But it is evident that the secret of
the refusal is in the mind and will of the Jews themselves.
They absolutely decline any co-operation with
the colonists. There is a sting in the carefully chosen
language with which they define their work: they call
it building a house "unto our God." Thus they not
only accept the polite phrase "Your God" employed
by the colonists in addressing them; but by markedly
accentuating its limitation they disallow any right of the
colonists to claim the same divinity.
Such a curt refusal of friendly overtures was naturally
most offensive to the people who received it. But their
subsequent conduct was so bitterly ill-natured that we
are driven to think they must have had some selfish
aims from the first. They at once set some paid agents
to work at court to poison the mind of the government
with calumnies about the Jews. It is scarcely likely
that they were able to win Cyrus over to their side
against his favourite protégés. The king may have been
too absorbed with the great affairs of his vast dominions
for any murmur of this business to reach him while it
was being disposed of by some official. But perhaps
the matter did not come up till after Cyrus had handed
over the government to his son Cambyses, which he did
in the year B.C. 532—three years before his death. At all
events the calumnies were successful. The work of the
temple building was arrested at its very commencement—for
as yet little more had been done beyond collecting
materials. The Jews were paying dearly for their exclusiveness.
All this looks very miserable. But let us examine
the situation.
We should show a total lack of the historical spirit
if we were to judge the conduct of Zerubbabel and
his companions by the broad principles of Christian
liberalism. We must take into account their religious
training and the measure of light to which they had
attained. We must also consider the singularly difficult
position in which they were placed. They were not
a nation; they were a Church. Their very existence,
therefore, depended upon a certain ecclesiastical organisation.
They must have shaped themselves according
to some definite lines, or they would have melted away
into the mass of mixed nationalities and debased eclectic
religions with which they were surrounded. Whether
the course of personal exclusiveness which they chose
was wisest and best may be fairly questioned. It has
been the course followed by their children all through
the centuries, and it has acquired this much of justification—it
has succeeded. Judaism has been preserved
by Jewish exclusiveness. We may think that
the essential truths of Judaism might have been maintained
by other means which would have allowed of
a more gracious treatment of outsiders. Meanwhile,
however, we must see that Zerubbabel and his companions
were not simply indulging in churlish unsociability
when they rejected the request of their neighbours.
Rightly or wrongly, they took this disagreeable course
with a great purpose in mind.
Then we must understand what the request of the
colonists really involved. It is true they only asked
to be allowed to assist in building the temple. But it
would have been impossible to stay here. If they had
taken an active share in the labour and sacrifice of the
construction of the temple, they could not have been
excluded afterwards from taking part in the temple
worship. This is the more clear since the very grounds
of their request were that they worshipped and sacrificed
to the God of the Jews. Now a great prophet
had predicted that God's house was to be a home of
prayer for all nations.Isa. lvi. 7.
But the Jews at Jerusalem
belonged to a very different school of thought. With
them, as we have learnt from the genealogies, the
racial idea was predominant. Judaism was for the
Jews.
But let us understand what that religion was which
the colonists asserted to be identical with the religion
of the returned exiles. They said they worshipped the
God of the Jews, but it was after the manner of the
people of the Northern Kingdom. In the days of
the Israelites that worship had been associated with
the steer at Bethel, and the people of Jerusalem had
condemned the degenerate religion of their northern
brethren as sinful in the sight of God. But the colonists
had not confined themselves to this. They had combined
their old idolatrous religion with that of the
newly adopted indigenous divinity of Palestine. "They
feared the Lord, and served their own gods."2 Kings xvii. 33.
Between
them, they adored a host of Pagan divinities, whose
barbarous names are grimly noted by the Hebrew historian—Succoth-benoth,
Nergal, Ashima, etc.2 Kings xvii. 30, 31.
There
is no evidence to show that this heathenism had become
extinct by the time of the rebuilding of the Jerusalem
temple. At all events, the bastard product of such a
worship as that of the Bethel steer and the Babylonian
and Phœnician divinities, even when purged of its most
gross corruption, was not likely to be after the mind of
the puritan pilgrims. The colonists did not offer to
adopt the traditional Torah, which the returned exiles
were sedulously observing.
Still it may be said, if the people were imperfect in
knowledge and corrupt in practice, might not the Jews
have enlightened and helped them? We are reminded
of the reproach that Bede brings so sternly against
the ancient British Christians when he blames them for
not having taught the gospel to the Saxon heathen who
had invaded their land. How far it would have been
possible for a feeble people to evangelise their more
powerful neighbours, in either case, it is impossible
to say.
It cannot be denied, however, that in their refusal the
Jews gave prominence to racial and not to religious
distinctions. Yet even in this matter it would be unreasonable
for us to expect them to have surpassed
the early Christian Church at Jerusalem and to have
anticipated the daring liberalism of St. Paul. The
followers of St. James were reluctant to receive any
converts into their communion except on condition of
circumcision. This meant that Gentiles must become
Jews before they could be recognised as Christians.
Now there was no sign that the mixed race of colonists
ever contemplated becoming Jews by humbling themselves
to a rite of initiation. Even if most of them were
already circumcised, as far as we know none of them
gave an indication of willingness to subject themselves
wholly to Jewish ordinances. To receive them, therefore,
would be contrary to the root principle of Judaism.
It is not fair to mete out a harsh condemnation to Jews
who declined to do what was only allowed among
Christians after a desperate struggle, which separated
the leader of the liberal party from many of his
brethren and left him for a long while under a cloud
of suspicion.
Great confusion has been imported into the controversy
on Church comprehension by not keeping it
separate from the question of tolerance in religion.
The two are distinct in many respects. Comprehension
is an ecclesiastical matter; tolerance is primarily concerned
with the policy of the state. Whilst it is
admitted that nobody should be coerced in his religion
by the state, it is not therefore to be assumed that
everybody is to be received into the Church.
Nevertheless we feel that there is a real and vital
connection between the ideas of toleration and Church
comprehensiveness. A Church may become culpably
intolerant, although she may not use the power of the
state for the execution of her mandates; she may contrive
many painful forms of persecution, without resorting
to the rack and the thumb-screw. The question
therefore arises, What are the limits to tolerance within
a Church? The attempt to fix these limits by creeds
and canons has not been wholly successful, either in
excluding the unworthy or in including the most desirable
members. The drift of thought in the present day
being towards wider comprehensiveness, it becomes
increasingly desirable to determine on what principles
this may be attained. Good men are weary of the
little garden walled around, and they doubt whether it is
altogether the Lord's peculiar ground; they have discovered
that many of the flowers of the field are fair
and fragrant, and they have a keen suspicion that
not a few weeds may be lurking even in the trim
parterre; so they look over the wall and long for
breadth and brotherhood, in a larger recognition of all
that is good in the world. Now the dull religious
lethargy of the eighteenth century is a warning against
the chief danger that threatens those who yield themselves
to this fascinating impulse. Latitudinarianism
sought to widen the fold that had been narrowed on
one side by sacerdotal pretensions and on the other
side by puritan rigour. The result was that the fold
almost disappeared. Then religion was nearly swallowed
up in the swamps of indifference. This deplorable
issue of a well-meant attempt to serve the cause of
charity suggests that there is little good in breaking
down the barriers of exclusiveness unless we have first
established a potent centre of unity. If we have put
an end to division simply by destroying the interests
which once divided men, we have only attained the
communion of death. In the graveyard friend and foe
lie peaceably side by side, but only because both are
dead. Wherever there is life two opposite influences
are invariably at work. There is a force of attraction
drawing in all that is congenial, and there is a force
of a contrary character repelling everything that is
uncongenial. Any attempt to tamper with either of
these forces must result in disaster. A social or an
ecclesiastical division that arbitrarily crosses the lines of
natural affinity creates a schism in the body, and leads
to a painful mutilation of fellowship. On the other
hand, a forced comprehension of alien elements produces
internal friction, which often leads to an explosion,
shattering the whole fabric. But the common mistake
has been in attending to the circumference and neglecting
the centre, in beating the bounds of the parish
instead of fortifying the citadel. The liberalism of St.
Paul was not latitudinarian, because it was inspired by
a vital principle which served as the centre of all his
teaching. He preached liberty and comprehensiveness,
because he had first preached Christ. In Christ he
found at once a bond of union and an escape from
narrowness. The middle wall of partition was broken
down, not by a Vandal armed with nothing better
than the besom of destruction, but by the Founder of
a new kingdom, who could dispense with artificial
restrictions because He could draw all men unto
Himself.
Unfortunately the returned captives at Jerusalem did
not feel conscious of any such spiritual centre of unity.
They might have found it in their grandly simple creed,
in their faith in God. But their absorption in sacrificial
ritual and its adjuncts shows that they were too much
under the influence of religious externalism. This
being the case, they could only preserve the purity of
their communion by carefully guarding its gates. It is
pitiable to see that they could find no better means of
doing this than the harsh test of racial integrity. Their
action in this matter fostered a pride of birth which was
as injurious to their own better lives as it was to the
extension of their religion in the world. But so long as
they were incapable of a larger method, if they had
accepted counsels of liberalism they would have lost
themselves and their mission. Looking at the positive
side of their mission, we see how the Jews were called
to bear witness to the great principle of separateness.
This principle is as essential to Christianity as it was
to Judaism. The only difference is that with the more
spiritual faith it takes a more spiritual form. The
people of God must ever be consecrated to God, and
therefore separate from sin, separate from the world—separate
unto God.
Note.—For the section iv. 6-23 see Chapter XIV. This section is
marked by a change of language; the writer adopts Aramaic at iv. 8,
and he continues in that language down to vi. 18. The decree of
Artaxerxes in vii. 12-26 is also in Aramaic.
CHAPTER VII.
THE MISSION OF PROPHECY.
Ezra v. 1, 2.
The work of building the temple at Jerusalem,
which had been but nominally commenced in
the reign of Cyrus, when it was suddenly arrested
before the death of that king, and which had not been
touched throughout the reigns of the two succeeding
kings, Cambyses and Pseudo-Bardes, was taken up
in earnest in the second year of Darius, the son of
Hystaspes (B.C. 521). The disorders of the empire
were then favourable to local liberty. Cambyses
committed suicide during a revolt of his army on the
march to meet the Pretender who had assumed the
name of his murdered brother, Bardes. Seven months
later the usurper was assassinated in his palace by
some of the Persian nobles. Darius, who was one of
the conspirators, ascended the throne in the midst of
confusion and while the empire seemed to be falling
to pieces. Elam, the old home of the house of Cyrus,
revolted; Syria revolted; Babylon revolted twice, and
was twice taken by siege. For a time the king's writ
could not run in Palestine. But it was not on account
of these political changes that the Jews returned to
their work. The relaxing of the supreme authority
had left them more than ever at the mercy of their
unfriendly neighbours. The generous disposition of
Darius might have led them to regard him as a
second Cyrus, and his religion might have encouraged
them to hope that he would be favourable to
them, for Darius was a monotheist, a worshipper
of Ormazd. But they recommenced their work without
making any appeal to the Great King and without
receiving any permission from him, and they did this
when he was far too busy fighting for his throne to
attend to the troubles of a small, distant city.
We must look in another direction for the impetus
which started the Jews again upon their work. Here
we come upon one of the most striking facts in the
history of Israel, nay, one of the greatest phenomena in
the spiritual experience of mankind. The voice of
prophecy was heard among the ruins of Jerusalem.
The Cassandra-like notes of Jeremiah had died away
more than half a century before. Then Ezekiel had
seen his fantastic visions, "a captive by the river of
Chebar," and the Second Isaiah had sounded his
trumpet-blast in the East summoning the exiles to a
great hope; but as yet no prophet had appeared among
the pilgrims on their return to Jerusalem. We cannot
account for the sudden outburst of prophecy. It is a
work of the Spirit that breathes like the wind, coming
we know not how. We can hear its sound; we can
perceive the fact. But we cannot trace its origin, or
determine its issues. It is born in mystery and it
passes into mystery. If it is true that "poeta nascitur,
non fit," much more must we affirm that the prophet is
no creature of human culture. He may be cultivated,
after God has made him; he cannot be manufactured
by any human machinery. No "School of the
Prophets" ever made a true prophet. Many of the
prophets never came near any such institution; some
of them distinctly repudiated the professional "order."
The lower prophets with which the Northern Kingdom
once swarmed were just dervishes who sang and
danced and worked themselves into a frenzy before the
altars on the high places; these men were quite different
from the truly inspired messengers of God. Their craft
could be taught, and their sacred colleges recruited to
any extent from the ranks of fanaticism. But the rare,
austere souls that spoke with the authority of the Most
High came in a totally different manner. When there
was no prophet and when visions were rare men could
only wait for God to send the hoped-for guide; they
could not call him into existence. The appearance of
an inspired soul is always one of the marvels of history.
Great men of the second rank may be the creatures of
their age. But it is given to the few of the very first
order to be independent of their age, to confront it and
oppose it if need be, perhaps to turn its current and
shape its course.
The two prophets who now proclaimed their message
in Jerusalem appeared at a time of deep depression.
They were not borne on the crest of a wave of a religious
revival, as its spokesmen to give it utterance.
Pagan orators and artists flourished in an Augustan age.
The Hebrew prophets came when the circumstances of
society were least favourable. Like painters arising to
adorn a dingy city, like poets singing of summer in the
winter of discontent, like flowers in the wilderness, like
wells in the desert, they brought life and strength and
gladness to the helpless and despondent, because they
came from God. The literary form of their work
reflected the civilisation of their day, but there was on
it a light that never shone on sea or shore, and this they
knew to be the light of God. We never find a true
religious revival springing from the spirit of the age.
Such a revival always begins in one or two choice souls—in
a Moses, a Samuel, a John the Baptist, a St. Bernard,
a Jonathan-Edwards, a Wesley, a Newman. Therefore
it is vain for weary watchers to scan the horizon for
signs of the times in the hope that some general
improvement of society or some widespread awakening
of the Church will usher in a better future. This is no
reason for discouragement, however. It rather warns
us not to despise the day of small things. When once
the spring of living water breaks out, though it flows at
first in a little brook, there is hope that it may swell
into a great river.
The situation is the more remarkable since the first
of the two prophets was an old man, who even seems
to have known the first temple before its destruction
by Nebuchadnezzar.Hag. i. 1, ii. 9.
Haggai is called simply "the
prophet," perhaps because his father's name was not
known, but more likely because he himself had attained
so much eminence that the title was given to him
par excellence. Still this may only apply to the descriptions
of him in the age of the chronicler. There is
no indication that he prophesied in his earlier days.
He was probably one of the captives who had been
carried away to Babylon in his childhood, and who had
returned with Zerubbabel to Jerusalem. Yet all this
time and during the first years of his return, as far as
we know, he was silent. At length, in extreme old
age, he burst out into inspired utterance—one of Joel's
old men who were to dream dreams,Joel ii. 28.
like John the
Evangelist, whose greatest work dates from his last
years, and Milton, who wrote his great epic when
affliction seemed to have ended his life-work. He must
have been brooding over the bitter disappointment in
which the enthusiasm of the returned captives had been
quenched. It could not be God's will that they should
be thus mocked and deceived in their best hopes. True
faith is not a will-o'-the-wisp that lands its followers in
a dreary swamp. The hope of Israel is no mirage.
For God is faithful. Therefore the despair of the
Jews must be wrong.
We have a few fragments of the utterances of Haggai
preserved for us in the Old Testament Canon. They
are so brief and bald and abrupt as to suggest the
opinion that they are but notes of his discourses, mere
outlines of what he really said. As they are preserved
for us they certainly convey no idea of wealth of poetic
imagination or richness of oratorical colouring. But
Haggai may have possessed none of these qualities, and
yet his words may have had a peculiar force of their
own. He is a reflective man. The long meditation
of years has taught him the value of thoughtfulness.
The burden of his message is "Consider your ways."Hag. i. 5, 7.
In short, incisive utterances he arrests attention and
urges consideration. But the outcome of all he has to
say is to cheer the drooping spirits of his fellow-citizens,
and urge on the rebuilding of the temple with confident
promises of its great future. For the most part his
inspiration is simple, but it is searching, and we perceive
the triumphant hopefulness of the true prophet in the
promise that the latter glory of the house of God shall
be greater than the former.Hag. ii. 9.
Haggai began to prophesy on the first day of the
sixth month of the second year of Darius.Hag. i. 1.
So effective
were his words that Zerubbabel and his companions
were at once roused from the lethargy of despair, and
within three weeks the masons and carpenters were
again at work on the temple.Hag. ii. 1 seq.
Two months after
Haggai had broken the long silence of prophecy in
Jerusalem Zechariah appeared. He was of a very
different stamp; he was one of the young men who
see visions. Familiar with the imagery of Babylonian
art, he wove its symbols into the pictures of his own
exuberant fancy. Moreover, Zechariah was a priest.
Thus, like Jeremiah and Ezekiel, he united the two
rival tendencies which had confronted one another in
marked antagonism during the earlier periods of the
history of Israel. Henceforth the brief return of
prophetism, its soft after-glow among the restored
people, is in peaceable alliance with priestism. The
last prophet, Malachi, even exhorts the Jews to pay
the priests their dues of tithe. Zechariah, like Haggai,
urges on the work of building the temple.
Thus the chronicler's brief note on the appearance of
two prophets at Jerusalem, and the electrical effect of
their message, is a striking illustration of the mission
of prophecy. That mission has been strangely misapprehended
by succeeding ages. Prophets have been
treated as miraculous conjurers, whose principal business
consisted in putting together elaborate puzzles,
perfectly unintelligible to their contemporaries, which
the curious of later times were to decipher by the light
of events. The prophets themselves formed no such
idle estimate of their work, nor did their contemporaries
assign to them this quaint and useless rôle. Though
these men were not the creatures of their times, they
lived for their times. Haggai and Zechariah, as the
chronicler emphatically puts it, "prophesied to the
Jews that were in Jerusalem, ... even unto them." The
object of their message was immediate and quite
practical—to stir up the despondent people and urge
them to build the temple—and it was successful in
accomplishing that end. As prophets of God they
necessarily touched on eternal truths. They were not
mere opportunists; their strength lay in the grasp of
fundamental principles. This is why their teaching
still lives, and is of lasting use for the Church in all
ages. But in order to understand that teaching we
must first of all read it in its original historical setting,
and discover its direct bearing on contemporary needs.
Now the question arises, In what way did these
prophets of God help the temple-builders? The fragments
of their utterances which we possess enable
us to answer this question. Zerubbabel was a disappointing
leader. Such a man was far below the
expected Messiah, although high hopes may have been
set upon him when he started at the head of the
caravan of pilgrims from Babylon. Cyrus may have
known him better, and with the instinct of a king in
reading men may have entrusted the lead to the heir of
the Jewish throne, because he saw there would be no
possibility of a dangerous rebellion resulting from the
act of confidence. Haggai's encouragement to Zerubbabel
to "be strong" is in a tone that suggests some
weakness on the part of the Jewish leader. Both the
prophets thought that he and his people were too easily
discouraged. It was a part of the prophetic insight to
look below the surface and discover the real secret of
failure. The Jews set down their failure to adverse
circumstances; the prophets attributed it to the character
and conduct of the people and their leaders. Weak
men commonly excuse their inactivity by reciting their
difficulties, when stronger men would only regard
those difficulties as furnishing an occasion for extra
exertion. That is a most superficial view of history
which regards it as wholly determined by circumstances.
No great nation ever arose on such a principle. The
Greeks who perished at Thermopylæ within a few
years of the times we are now considering are honoured
by all the ages as heroes of patriotism just because
they refused to bow to circumstances. Now the courage
which patriots practised in pagan lands is urged upon
the Jews by their prophets from higher considerations.
They are to see that they are weak and cowardly when
they sit in dumb despair, crushed by the weight of
external opposition. They have made a mistake in
putting their trust in princes.Psalm cxviii. 8, 9.
They have relied too
much on Zerubbabel and too little on God. The failure
of the arm of flesh should send them back to the never-failing
out-stretched arm of the Almighty.
Have we not met with the same mistaken discouragement
and the same deceptive excuses for it in the work
of the Church, in missionary enterprises, in personal
lives? Every door is shut against the servant of God
but one, the door of prayer. Forgetting this, and losing
sight of the key of faith that would unlock it, he sits,
like Elijah by Kerith, the picture of abject wretchedness.
His great enterprises are abandoned because he
thinks the opposition to them is insuperable. He forgets
that, though his own forces are small, he is the
envoy of the King of kings, who will not suffer him to
be worsted if only he appeals to Heaven for fresh
supplies. A dead materialism lies like a leaden weight
on the heart of the Church, and she has not faith
enough to shake it off and claim her great inheritance
in all the spiritual wealth of the Unseen. Many a man
cries, like Jacob, "All these things are against me," not
perceiving that, even if they are, no number of "things"
should be permitted to check the course of one who
looks above and beyond what is seen and therefore
only temporal to the eternal resources of God.
This was the message of Zechariah to Zerubbabel:
"Not by might, nor by power, but by My spirit, saith
the Lord of hosts. Who art thou, O great mountain?
before Zerubbabel thou shalt become a plain: and
he shall bring forth the head stone with shoutings of
Grace, grace unto it!"Zech. iv. 6, 7.
Here, then, is the secret of the sudden revival of
activity on the part of the Jews after they had been
slicing for years in dumb apathy, gazing hopelessly on
the few stones that had been laid among the ruins of
the old temple. It was not the returning favour of the
court under Darius, it was not the fame of the house of
David, it was not the priestly dignity of the family of
Zadok that awakened the slumbering zeal of the Jews;
the movement began in an unofficial source, and it
passed to the people through unofficial channels. It
commenced in the meditations of a calm thinker; it
was furthered by the visions of a rapt seer. This is a
clear indication of the fact that the world is ruled by
mind and spirit, not merely by force and authority.
Thought and imagination lie at the springs of action.
In the heart of it history is moulded by ideas. "Big
battalions," "the sinews of war," "blood and iron," are
phrases that suggest only the most external and therefore
the most superficial causes. Beneath them are the
ideas that govern all they represent.
Further, the influence of the prophets shows that the
ideas which have most vitality and vigour are moral
and spiritual in character. All thoughts are influential
in proportion as they take possession of the minds and
hearts of men and women. There is power in conceptions
of science, philosophy, politics, sociology. But
the ideas that touch people to the quick, the ideas that
stir the hidden depths of consciousness and rouse the
slumbering energies of life, are those that make straight
for the conscience. Thus the two prophets exposed the
shame of indolence; they rallied their gloomy fellow-citizens
by high appeals to the sense of right.
Again, this influence was immensely strengthened
by its relation to God. The prophets were more than
moralists. The meditations of Marcus Aurelius could
not touch any people as the considerations of the calm
Haggai touched the Jews, for the older prophet, as well
as the more rousing Zechariah, found the spell of his
message in its revelation of God. He made the Jews
perceive that they were not deserted by Jehovah; and
directly they felt that God was with them in their work
the weak and timid citizens were able to quit them like
men. The irresistible might of Cromwell's Ironsides
at Marston Moor came from their unwavering faith in
their battle-cry, "The Lord of Hosts is with us!"
General Gordon's immeasurable courage is explained
when we read his letters and diaries, and see how he
regarded himself as simply an instrument through
whom God wrought. Here, too, is the strong side of
Calvinism.
Then this impression of the power and presence of
God in their destinies was deepened in the Jews by
the manifest Divine authority with which the prophets
spake. They prophesied "in the name of the God of
Israel"—the one God of the people of both kingdoms
now united in their representatives. Their "Thus saith
the Lord" was the powder that drove the shot of their
message through the toughest hide of apathy. Except
to a Platonist, ideas are impossible apart from the mind
that thinks them. Now the Jews, as well as their
prophets, felt that the great ideas of prophecy could
not be the products of pure human thinking. The
sublime character, the moral force, the superb hopefulness
of these ideas proclaimed their Divine origin.
As it is the mission of the prophet to speak for God, so
it is the voice of God in His inspired messenger that
awakes the dead and gives strength to the weak.
This ultimate source of prophecy accounts for its
unique character of hopefulness, and that in turn makes
it a powerful encouragement for the weak and depressed
people to whom it is sent. Wordsworth tells
us that we live by "admiration, love, and hope." If
one of these three sources of vitality is lost, life itself
shrinks and fades. The man whose hope has fled has
no lustre in his eye, no accent in his voice, no elasticity
in his tread; by his dull and listless attitude he declares
that the life has gone out of him. But the
ultimate end of prophecy is to lead up to a gospel,
and the meaning of the word "gospel" is just that
there is a message from God bringing hope to the
despairing. By inspiring a new hope this message
kindles a new life.
CHAPTER VIII.
NEW DIFFICULTIES MET IN A NEW SPIRIT.
Ezra v. 3-vi. 5.
It is in keeping with the character of his story of
the returned Jews throughout, that no sooner has
the chronicler let a ray of sunshine fall on his page—in
his brief notice of the inspiriting mission of the two
prophets—than he is compelled to plunge his narrative
again into gloom. But he shows that there was now
a new spirit in the Jews, so that they were prepared
to meet opposition in a more manly fashion. If their
jealous neighbours had been able to paralyse their
efforts for years, it was only to be expected that a
revival of energy in Jerusalem should provoke an
increase of antagonism abroad, and doubtless the Jews
were prepared for this. Still it was not a little
alarming to learn that the infection of the anti-Jewish
temper had spread over a wide area. The
original opposition had come from the Samaritans.
But in this later time the Jews were questioned by
the Satrap of the whole district east of the Euphrates—"the
governor beyond the river,"Ezra v. 3.
as the chronicler
styles him, describing his territory as it would be
regarded officially from the standpoint of Babylon.
His Aramaic name, Tattenai, shows that he was not
a Persian, but a native Syrian, appointed to his own
province, according to the Persian custom. This man
and one Shethar-bozenai, whom we may assume to be his
secretary, must have been approached by the colonists
in such a way that their suspicions were roused.
Their action was at first only just and reasonable.
They asked the Jews to state on what authority they
were rebuilding the temple with its massive walls. In
the Hebrew Bible the answer of the Jews is so
peculiar as to suggest a corruption of the text. It
is in the first person plural—"Then said we unto
them," etc.Ezra v. 4.
In the Septuagint the third person is
substituted—"Then said they," etc., and this rendering
is followed in the Syriac and Arabic versions. It
would require a very slight alteration in the Hebrew
text. The Old Testament Revisers have retained the
first person—setting the alternative reading in the
margin. If we keep to the Hebrew text as it stands,
we must conclude that we have here a fragment from
some contemporary writer which the chronicler has
transcribed literally. But then it seems confusing.
Some have shaped the sentence into a direct statement,
so that in reply to the inquiry for their authority the
Jews give the names of the builders. How is this an
answer? Possibly the name of Zerubbabel, who had
been appointed governor of Jerusalem by Cyrus, could
be quoted as an authority. And yet the weakness of
his position was so evident that very little would be
gained in this way, for it would be the right of the
Satrap to inquire into the conduct of the local governor.
If, however, we read the sentence in the third person,
it will contain a further question from the Satrap and
his secretary, inquiring for the names of the leaders in
the work at Jerusalem. Such an inquiry threatened
danger to the feeble Zerubbabel.
The seriousness of the situation is recognised by the
grateful comment of the chronicler, who here remarks
that "the eye of their God was upon the elders of the
Jews."Ezra v. 5.
It is the peculiarity of even the dryest
records of Scripture that the writers are always ready
to detect the presence of God in history. This justifies
us in describing the Biblical narratives as "sacred
history," in contrast to the so-called "secular history"
of such authors as Herodotus and Livy. The narrow
conception of the difference is to think that God was
with the Jews, while He left the Greeks and Romans
and the whole Gentile world to their fate without any
recognition or interference on His part. Such a view
is most dishonouring to God, who is thus regarded as
no better than a tribal divinity, and not as the Lord of
heaven and earth. It is directly contradicted by the
Old Testament historians, for they repeatedly refer to
the influence of God on great world monarchies. No
doubt a claim to the Divine graciousness as the peculiar
privilege of Israel is to be seen in the Old Testament.
As far as this was perverted into a selfish desire to
confine the blessings of God to the Jews, it was
vigorously rebuked in the Book of Jonah. Still it is
indisputable that those who truly sought God's grace,
acknowledged His authority, and obeyed His will, must
have enjoyed privileges which such of the heathen as
St. Paul describes in the first chapter of his Epistle to
the Romans could not share. Thus the chronicler
writes as though the leaders of the Jews in their
difficulties were the special objects of the Divine notice.
The eye of God was on them, distinctively. God is
spoken of as their God. They were men who knew,
trusted, and honoured God, and at the present moment
they were loyally carrying out the direction of God's
prophets. All this is special. Nevertheless, it remains
true that the chief characteristic of Biblical history is
its recognition of the presence of God in the affairs
of mankind generally, and this applies to all nations,
although it is most marked among those nations in
which God is known and obeyed.
The peculiar form of Providence which is brought
before us in the present instance is the Divine observation.
It is difficult to believe that, just as the earth is
visible to the stars throughout the day while the stars
are invisible to the earth, we are always seen by God
although we never see Him. When circumstances are
adverse—and these circumstances are only too visible—it
is hard not to doubt that God is still watching all
that happens to us, because although we cry out in our
agony no answer breaks the awful silence and no hand
comes out of the clouds to hold us up. It seems as
though our words were lost in the void. But that
is only the impression of the moment. If we read
history with the large vision of the Hebrew chronicler,
can we fail to perceive that this is not a God-deserted
world? In the details His presence may not be
discerned, but when we stand back from the canvas
and survey the whole picture, it flashes upon us like a
sunbeam spread over the whole landscape. Many a
man can recognise the same happy truth in the course
of his own life as he looks back over a wide stretch
of it, although while he was passing through his perplexing
experience the thicket of difficulties intercepted
his vision of the heavenly light.
Now it is a most painful result of unbelief and
cowardice working on the consciousness of guilt lurking
in the breast of every sinful man, that the "eye of
God" has become an object of terror to the imagination
of so many people. Poor Hagar's exclamation of joy
and gratitude has been sadly misapprehended. Discovering
to her amazement that she is not alone in the
wilderness, the friendless, heart-broken slave-girl looks
up through her tears with a smile of sudden joy on her
face, and exclaims, "Thou God seest me!"Gen. xvi. 13.
And yet
her happy words have been held over terrified children
as a menace! That is a false thought of God which
makes any of His children shrink from His presence,
except they are foul and leprous with sin, and even
then their only refuge is, as St. Augustine found, to
come to the very God against whom they have sinned.
We need not fear lest some day God may make a
miserable discovery about us. He knows the worst,
already. Then it is a ground of hope that while He
sees all the evil in us God still loves His children—that
He does not love us, as it were, under a misapprehension.
Our Lord's teaching on the subject of
the Divine observation is wholly reassuring. Not
a sparrow falls to the ground without our Father's
notice, the very hairs of our head are all numbered,
and the exhortation based on these facts is not
"Beware of the all-seeing Eye!" but "Fear not."Luke xii. 7.
The limitation of the chronicler's remark is significant.
He speaks of the eye of God, not of God's
mighty hand, nor of His outstretched arm. It was not
yet the time for action; but God was watching the
course of events. Or if God was acting, His procedure
was so secret that no one could perceive it. Meanwhile
it was enough to know that God was observing
everything that was transpiring. He could not be
thought of as an Epicurean divinity, surveying the
agony and tragedy of human life with a stony gaze of
supercilious indifference, as the proud patrician looks
down on the misery of the dim multitude. For God
to see is for God to care; and for God to care is for
God to help. But this simple statement of the Divine
observation maintains a reserve as to the method of the
action of God, and it is perhaps the best way of describing
Providence so that it shall not appear to come
into collision with the free will of man.
The chronicler distinctly associates the Divine observation
with the continuance of the Jews in their work.
Because the eye of God was on them their enemies
could not cause them to cease until the matter had
been referred to Darius and his answer received. This
may be explained by some unrecorded juncture of circumstances
which arrested the action of the enemies
of Israel; by the overruling Providence according to
which the Satrap was led to perceive that it would not
be wise or just for him to act until he had orders from
the king; or by the new zeal with which the two
prophets had inspired the Jews, so that they took up a
bold position in the calm confidence that God was with
them. Account for it as we may, we see that in the
present case the Jews were not hindered in their work.
It is enough for faith to perceive the result of the
Divine care without discovering the process.
The letter of the Satrap and his secretary embodies
the reply of the Jews to the official inquiries, and that
reply clearly and boldly sets forth their position. One
or two points in it call for passing notice.
In the first place, the Jews describe themselves as
"servants of the God of heaven and earth." Thus
they start by mentioning their religious status, and not
any facts about their race or nation. This was wise,
and calculated to disarm suspicion as to their motives;
and it was strictly true, for the Jews were engaged in a
distinctly religious work. Then the way in which they
describe their God is significant. They do not use the
national name "Jehovah." That would serve no good
purpose with men who did not know or acknowledge
their special faith. They say nothing to localise and
limit their idea of God. To build the temple of a tribal
god would be to further the ends of the tribe, and this
the jealous neighbours of the Jews supposed they were
doing. By the larger title the Jews lift their work out
of all connection with petty personal ends. In doing
so they confess their true faith. These Jews of the
return were pure monotheists. They believed that
there was one God who ruled over heaven and earth.
In the second place, with just a touch of national
pride, pathetic under the circumstances, they remind
the Persians that their nation has seen better days, and
that they are rebuilding the temple which a great king
had set up. Thus, while they would appeal to the
generosity of the authorities, they would claim their
respect, with the dignity of men who know they have
a great history. In view of this the next statement is
most striking. Reciting the piteous story of the overthrow
of their nation, the destruction of their temple,
and the captivity of their fathers, the Jews ascribe it all
to their national sins. The prophets had long ago
discerned the connection of cause and effect in these
matters. But while it was only the subject of prediction,
the proud people indignantly rejected the prophetic
view. Since then their eyes had been opened by the
painful purging of dire national calamities. One great
proof that the nation had profited by the fiery ordeal of
the captivity is that it now humbly acknowledged the
sins which had brought it into the furnace. Trouble
is illuminating. While it humbles men, it opens their
eyes. It is better to see clearly in a lowly place than
to walk blindfold on perilous heights.
After this explanatory preamble, the Jews appeal to
the edict of Cyrus, and describe their subsequent conduct
as a direct act of obedience to that edict. Thus
they plead their cause as loyal subjects of the Persian
empire. In consequence of this appeal, the Satrap and
his secretary request the king to order a search to be
made for the edict, and to reply according to his
pleasure.
The chronicler then proceeds to relate how the search
was prosecuted, first among the royal archives at
Babylon—in "the house of books."Ezra vi. 1.
One of Mr.
Layard's most valuable discoveries was that of a set of
chambers in a palace at Koyunjik, the whole of the floor
of which was covered more than a foot deep with terra-cotta
tablets inscribed with public records."Nineveh and Babylon," p. 345.
A similar
collection has been recently found in the neighbourhood
of Babylon.Bertheau-Ryssel, "Kurzgefasstes exegetisches Handbuch," p. 74.
In some such record-house the search
for the edict of Cyrus was made. But the cylinder or
tablet on which it was written could not be found. The
searchers then turned their attention to the roll-chamber
at the winter palace of Ecbatana, and there
a parchment or papyrus copy of the edict was discovered.
One of the items of this edict as it is now given is
somewhat surprising, for it was not named in the earlier
account in the first chapter of the Book of Ezra. This is
a description of the dimensions of the temple which was
to be built at Jerusalem. It must have been not a little
humiliating to the Jews to have to take these measurements
from a foreign sovereign, a heathen, a polytheist.
Possibly, however, they had been first supplied to the king
by the Jews, so that the builders might have the more
explicit permission for what they were about to undertake.
On the other hand, it may be that we have here
the outside dimensions, beyond which the Jews were
not permitted to go, and that the figures represent a
limit for their ambitions. In either case the appearance
of the details in the decree at all gives us a vivid conception
of the thoroughness of the Persian autocracy,
and of the perfect subjection of the Jews to Cyrus.
Some difficulty has been felt in interpreting the
figures because they seem to point to a larger building
than Solomon's temple. The height is given at sixty
cubits, and the breadth at the same measurement. But
Solomon's temple was only thirty cubits high, and its
total breadth, with its side-chambers, was not more
than forty cubits.1 Kings vi. 2.
When we consider the comparative
poverty of the returned Jews, the difficulties under
which they laboured, the disappointment of the old
men who had seen the former building, and the short
time within which the work was finished—only four
yearsEzra iv. 24, vi. 15.
—it is difficult to believe that it was more than
double the size of the glorious fabric for which David
collected materials, on which Solomon lavished the best
resources of his kingdom, and which even then took
many more years in building. Perhaps the height includes
the terrace on which the temple was built, and
the breadth the temple adjuncts. Perhaps the temple
never attained the dimensions authorised by the edict.
But even if the full size were reached, the building
would not have approached the size of the stupendous
temples of the great ancient empires. Apart from its
courts Solomon's temple was certainly a small building.
It was not the size, but the splendour of that famous
fabric that led to its being regarded with so much
admiration and pride.
The most remarkable architectural feature of all these
ancient temples was the enormous magnitude of the
stones with which they were built. At the present day
the visitor to Jerusalem gazes with wonder at huge
blocks, all carefully chiselled and accurately fitted together,
where parts of the old foundations may still
be discerned. The narrative in Ezra makes several
references to the great stones—"stones of rolling"Ezra v. 8.
it calls them, because they could only be moved on
rollers. Even the edict mentions "three rows of great
stones," together with "a row of new timber,"Ezra vi. 4.
—an
obscure phrase, which perhaps means that the walls
were to be of the thickness of three stones, while the
timber formed an inner pannelling; or that there were
to be three storeys of stone and one of wood; or yet
another possibility, that on three tiers of stone a tier of
wood was to be laid. In the construction of the inner
court of Solomon's temple this third method seems to
have been followed, for we read, "And he built the
inner court with three rows of hewn stone and a row of
cedar beams."1 Kings vi. 36.
However we regard it—and the plan
is confusing and a matter of much discussion—the
impression is one of massive strength. The jealous
observers noted especially the building of "the wall"
of the temple.Ezra v. 9.
So solid a piece of work might be
turned into a fortification. But no such end seems to
have been contemplated by the Jews. They built
solidly because they wished their work to stand. It
was to be no temporary tabernacle; but a permanent
temple designed to endure to posterity. We are struck
with the massive character of the Roman remains in
Britain, which show that when the great world conquerors
took possession of our island they settled down
in it and regarded it as a permanent property. The
same grand consciousness of permanence must have
been in the minds of the brave builders who planted
this solid structure at Jerusalem in the midst of troubles
and threatenings of disaster. To-day, when we look at
the stupendous Phœnician and Jewish architecture of
Syria, we are struck with admiration at the patience,
the perseverance, the industry, the thoroughness, the
largeness of idea that characterised the work of these
old-world builders. Surely it must have been the
outcome of a similar tone and temper of mind. The
modern mind may be more nimble, as the modern work
is more expeditious. But for steadfastness of purpose
the races that wrought so patiently at great enduring
works seem to have excelled anything we can attain.
And yet here and there a similar characteristic is
observable—as, for example, in the self-restraint and
continuous toil of Charles Darwin, when he collected
facts for twenty years before he published the book
which embodied the conclusion he had drawn from his
wide induction.
The solid character of the temple-building is further
suggestive, because the work was all done for the service
of God. Such work should never be hasty, because God
has the leisure of eternity in which to inspect it. It is
labour lost to make it superficial and showy without any
real strength, because God sees behind all pretences.
Moreover, the fire will try every man's work of what sort
it is. We grow impatient of toil; we weary for quick
results; we forget that in building the spiritual temple
strength to endure the shocks of temptation and to
outlast the decay of time is more valued by God than
the gourd-like display which is the sensation of the
hour, only to perish as quickly as it has sprung up.
CHAPTER IX.
THE DEDICATION OF THE TEMPLE.
Ezra vi. 6-22.
The chronicler's version of the edict in which Darius
replies to the application of the Satrap Tattenai is
so very friendly to the Jews that questions have been
raised as to its genuineness. We cannot but perceive
that the language has been modified in its transition
from the Persian terra-cotta cylinder to the roll of the
Hebrew chronicler, because the Great King could not
have spoken of the religion of Israel in the absolute
phrases recorded in the Book of Ezra. But when all
allowance has been made for verbal alterations in translation
and transcription, the substance of the edict is
still sufficiently remarkable. Darius fully endorses
the decree of Cyrus, and even exceeds that gracious
ordinance in generosity. He curtly bids Tattenai "let
the work of the house of God alone." He even orders
the Satrap to provide for this work out of the revenues
of his district. The public revenues are also to be used
in maintaining the Jewish priests and in providing them
with sacrifices—"that they may offer sacrifices of sweet
savour unto the God of heaven, and pray for the life of
the king and of his sons."Ezra vi. 10.
On the other hand, it cannot be doubted that Darius
sent a reply that was favourable to the Jews, for all
opposition to their work was stopped, and means were
found for completing the temple and maintaining the
costly ritual. The Jews gratefully acknowledged the
influence of God on the heart of Darius. Surely they
were right in doing so. They were gifted with the true
insight of faith. It is no contradiction to add that—in
the earthly sphere and among the human motives
through which God works, by guiding them—what we
know of Darius will account to some extent for his
friendliness towards the Jews. He was a powerful
ruler, and when he had quelled the serious rebellions
that had broken out in several quarters of his kingdom,
he organised his government in a masterly style with
a new and thorough system of satrapies.Herodotus, iii. 89.
Then he
pushed his conquests farmer afield, and subsequently
came into contact with Europe, although ultimately to
suffer a humiliating defeat in the famous battle of
Marathon. In fact, we may regard him as the real
founder of the Persian Empire. Cyrus, though his
family was of Persian origin, was originally a king of
Elam, and he had to conquer Persia before he could
rule over it; but Darius was a prince of the Persian
royal house. Unlike Cyrus, he was at least a monotheist,
if not a thoroughgoing Zoroastrian. The
inscription on his tomb at Naksh-i-Rustem attributes
all that he has achieved to the favour of Ormazd.
"When Ormazd saw this earth filled with revolt and
civil war, then did he entrust it to me. He made me
king, and I am king. By the grace of Ormazd I have
restored the earth." "All that I have done I have done
through the grace of Ormazd. Ormazd brought help
to me until I had completed my work. May Ormazd
protect from evil me and my house and this land.
Therefore I pray unto Ormazd, May Ormazd grant
this to me." "O Man! May the command of Ormazd
not be despised by thee: leave not the path of right,
sin not!"Sayce, Introduction, pp. 57, 58.
Such language implies a high religious
conception of life. Although it is a mistake to suppose
that the Jews had borrowed anything of importance
from Zoroastrianism during the captivity or in the time
of Cyrus—inasmuch as that religion was then scarcely
known in Babylon—when it began to make itself
felt there, its similarity to Judaism could not fail to
strike the attention of observant men. It taught the
existence of one supreme God—though it co-ordinated
the principles of good and evil in His being, as two subsidiary
existences, in a manner not allowed by Judaism—and
it encouraged prayer. It also insisted on the dreadful
evil of sin and urged men to strive after purity, with
an earnestness that witnessed to the blending of morality
with religion to an extent unknown elsewhere except
among the Jews. Thus, if Darius were a Zoroastrian,
he would have two powerful links of sympathy with the
Jews in opposition to the corrupt idolatry of the heathen—the
spiritual monotheism and the earnest morality
that were common to the two religions. And in any
case it is not altogether surprising to learn that when
he read the letter of the people who described themselves
as "the servants of the God of heaven and earth,"
the worshipper of Ormazd should have sympathised
with them rather than with their semi-pagan opponents.
Moreover, Darius must have known something of
Judaism from the Jews of Babylon. Then, he was
restoring the temples of Ormazd which his predecessor
had destroyed. But the Jews were engaged in a very
similar work; therefore the king, in his antipathy to the
idolaters, would give no sanction to a heathenish opposition
to the building of the temple at Jerusalem by a
people who believed in One Spiritual God.
Darius was credited with a generous disposition,
which would incline him to a kindly treatment of his
subjects. Of course we must interpret this according
to the manners of the times. For example, in his edict
about the temple-building he gives orders that any one
of his subjects who hinders the work is to be impaled
on a beam from his own house, the site of which is to
be used for a refuse heap.Ezra. vi. 11.
Darius also invokes the God
of the Jews to destroy any foreign king or people who
should attempt to alter or destroy the temple at Jerusalem.
The savagery of his menace is in harmony with
his conduct when, according to Herodotus, he impaled
three thousand men at Babylon after he had recaptured
the city.Herodotus, iii. 159.
Those were cruel times—Herodotus tells us
that the besieged Babylonians had previously strangled
their own wives when they were running short of
provisions.Ibid.
The imprecation with which the edict
closes may be matched by one on the inscription of
Darius at Behistum, where the Great King invokes the
curse of Ormazd on any persons who should injure the
tablet. The ancient despotic world-rulers had no conception
of the modern virtue of humanitarianism. It
is sickening to picture to ourselves their methods of
government. The enormous misery involved is beyond
calculation. Still we may believe that the worst threats
were not always carried out; we may make some
allowance for Oriental extravagance of language. And
yet, after all has been said, the conclusion of the edict
of Darius presents to us a kind of state support for
religion which no one would defend in the present day.
In accepting the help of the Persian sovereign the Jews
could not altogether dissociate themselves from his
way of government. Nevertheless it is fair to remember
that they had not asked for his support. They
had simply desired to be left unmolested.
Tattenai loyally executed the decree of Darius; the
temple-building proceeded without further hindrance,
and the work was completed about four years after
its recommencement at the instigation of the prophet
Haggai. Then came the joyous ceremony of the dedication.
All the returned exiles took part in it. They
are named collectively "the children of Israel"—another
indication that the restored Jews were regarded
by the chronicler as the representatives of the whole
united nation as this had existed under David and
Solomon before the great schism. Similarly there are
twelve he-goats for the sin-offering—for the twelve
tribes.Ezra vi. 17.
Several classes of Israelites are enumerated,—first
the clergy in their two orders, the priests and the
Levites, always kept distinct in "Ezra"; next the
laity, who are described as "the children of the
captivity." The limitation of this phrase is significant.
In the dedication of the temple the Israelites of the
land who were mixed up with the heathen people are
not included. Only the returned exiles had built the
temple; only they were associated in the dedication of
it. Here is a strictly guarded Church. Access to it is
through the one door of an unimpeachable genealogical
record. Happily the narrowness of this arrangement
is soon to be broken through. In the meanwhile it is
to be observed that it is just the people who have
endured the hardship of separation from their beloved
Jerusalem to whom the privilege of rejoicing in the
completion of the new temple is given. The tame
existence that cannot fathom the depths of misery is
incapable of soaring to the heights of bliss. The joy of
the harvest is for those who have sown in tears.
The work was finished, and yet its very completion
was a new commencement. The temple was now dedicated—literally
"initiated"—for the future service of
God.
This dedication is an instance of the highest use of
man's work. The fruit of years of toil and sacrifice
is given to God. Whatever theories we may have
about the consecration of a building—and surely every
building that is put to a sacred use is in a sense a
sacred building—there can be no question as to the
rightness of dedication. This is just the surrender to
God of what was built for Him out of the resources
that He had supplied. A dedication service is a solemn
act of transfer by which a building is given over to the
use of God. We may save it from narrowness if we do
not limit it to places of public assembly. The home
where the family altar is set up, where day by day
prayer is offered, and where the common round of
domestic duties is elevated and consecrated by being
faithfully discharged as in the sight of God, is a true
sanctuary; it too, like the Jerusalem temple, has its
"Holy of Holies." Therefore when a family enters a
new house, or when two young lives cross the threshold
of what is to be henceforth their "home," there is as
true a ground for a solemn act of dedication as in
the opening of a great temple. A prophet declared
that "Holiness to the Lord" was to characterise the
very vessels of household use in Jerusalem.Zech. xiv. 21.
It may
lift some of the burden of drudgery which presses on
people who are compelled to spend their time in common
house-toil, for them to perceive that they may become
priests and priestesses ministering at the altar even in
their daily work. In the same spirit truly devout men
of business will dedicate their shops, their factories,
their offices, the tools of their work, and the enterprises
in which they engage, so that all may be regarded as
belonging to God, and only to be used as His will
dictates. Behind every such act of dedication there
must be a prior act of self-consecration, without which
the gift of any mere thing to God is but an insult to
the Father who only seeks the hearts of His children.
Nay, without this a real gift of any kind is impossible.
But the people who have first given their own selves to
the Lord are prepared for all other acts of surrender.
According to the custom of their ritual, the Jews
signalised the dedication of the temple by the offering
of sacrifices. Even with the help of the king's bounty
these were few in number compared with the lavish
holocausts that were offered in the ceremony of dedicating
Solomon's temple.1 Kings viii. 63.
Here, in the external aspect
of things, the melancholy archæologists might have
found another cause for lamentation. But we are not
told that any such people appeared on the present occasion.
The Jews were not so foolish as to believe that
the value of a religious movement could be ascertained
by the study of architectural dimensions. Is it
less misleading to attempt to estimate the spiritual
prosperity of a Church by casting up the items of its
balance-sheet, or tabulating the numbers of its congregations?
Looking more closely into the chronicler's description
of the sacrifices, we see that these were principally of
two distinct kinds.Ezra vi. 17.
There were some animals for
burnt offerings, which signified complete dedication,
and pledged their offerers to it. Then there were
other animals for sin-offerings. Thus even in the
joyous dedication of the temple the sin of Israel could
not be forgotten. The increasing importance of sacrifices
for sin is one of the most marked features of the
Hebrew ritual in its later stages of development. It
shows that in the course of ages the national consciousness
of sin was intensified. At the same time it makes
clear that the inexplicable conviction that without
shedding of blood there could be no remission of sins
was also deepened. Whether the sacrifice was regarded
as a gift pleasing and propitiating an offended
God, or as a substitute bearing the death-penalty of
sin, or as a sacred life, bestowing, by means of its
blood, new life on sinners who had forfeited their own
lives; in any case, and however it was interpreted, it
was felt that blood must be shed if the sinner was to
be freed from guilt. Throughout the ages this awful
thought was more and more vividly presented, and
the mystery which the conscience of many refused to
abandon continued, until there was a great revelation of
the true meaning of sacrifice for sin in the one efficacious
atonement of Christ.
A subsidiary point to be noticed here is that there
were just twelve he-goats sacrificed for the twelve tribes
of Israel. These were national sin-offerings, and not
sacrifices for individual sinners. Under special circumstances
the individual could bring his own private
offering. But in this great temple function only national
sins were considered. The nation had suffered as a
whole for its collective sin; in a corresponding way it
had its collective expiation of sin. There are always
national sins which need a broad public treatment,
apart from the particular acts of wickedness committed
by separate men.
All this is said by the chronicler to have taken place
in accordance with The Law—"As it is written in the
book of Moses."Ezra vi. 18.
Here, as in the case of the similar
statement of the chronicler in connection with the
sacrifices offered when the great altar of burnt-offerings
was set up,Ezra iii. 2.
we must remember, in the first place, that
we have to do with the reflections of an author writing
in a subsequent age, to whom the whole Pentateuch
was a familiar book. But then it is also clear that
before Ezra had startled the Jews by reading The Law
in its later revelation there must have been some earlier
form of it, not only in Deuteronomy, but also in a priestly
collection of ordinances. It is a curious fact that no
full directions on the division of the courses of the
priests and Levites is now to be found in the Pentateuch.
On this occasion the services must have been
arranged on the model of the traditional priestly law.
They were not left to the caprice of the hour. There
was order; there was continuity; there was obedience.
The chronicler concludes this period of his history
by adding a paragraphHere, at Ezra vi. 18, the author drops the Aramaic language—which
was introduced at iv. 8—and resumes the Hebrew. See
page 71.
on the first observance of the
Passover among the returned Jews. The national religion
is now re-established, and therefore the greatest
festival of the year can be enjoyed. One of the
characteristics of this festival is made especially prominent
in the present observance of it. The significance
of the unleavened bread is pointedly noticed. All leaven
is to be banished from the houses during the week
of the Passover. All impurity must also be banished
from the people. The priests and Levites perform the
ceremonial purifications and get themselves legally
clean. The franchise is enlarged; and the limitations
of genealogy with which we started are dispensed with.
A new class of Israelites receives a brotherly welcome
in this time of general purification. In distinction from
the returned captives, there are now the Israelites who
"had separated themselves unto them from the filthiness
of the heathen of the land, to seek the Lord." Jehovah
is pointedly described as "the God of Israel"—i.e., the
God of all sections of Israel.Ezra vi. 21.
These people cannot
be proselytes from heathenism—there could be few if
any such in exclusive times. They might consist of
Jews who had been living in Palestine all through the
captivity, Israelites also left in the Northern Kingdom,
and scattered members of the ten tribes from various
regions. All such are welcome on condition of a severe
process of social purging. They must break off from
their heathen associations. We may suspect a spirit
of Jewish animosity in the ugly phrase "the filthiness
of the heathen." But it was only too true that both
the Canaanite and the Babylonian habits of life were
disgustingly immoral. The same horrible characteristic
is found among most of the heathen to-day. These
degraded people are not simply benighted in theological
error; they are corrupted by horrible vices. Missionary
work is more than the propagation of Christian theology;
it is the purging of Augean stables. St. Paul reminds
us that we must put away the old leaven of sinful
habits in order to partake of the Christian Passover,1 Cor. v. 7.
and St. James that one feature of the religious service
which is acceptable to God is to keep oneself unspotted
from the world.James i. 27.
Though unfortunately with the
externalism of the Jews their purification too often became
a mere ceremony, and their separation an ungracious
race-exclusiveness, still, at the root of it, the
Passover idea here brought before us is profoundly
true. It is the thought that we cannot take part in a
sacred feast of Divine gladness except on condition of
renouncing sin. The joy of the Lord is the beatific
vision of saints, the blessedness of the pure in heart
who see God.
On this condition, for the people who were thus
separate, the festival was a scene of great gladness. The
chronicler calls attention to three things that were in
the mind of the Jews inspiring their praises throughout.Ezra vi. 22.
The first is that God was the source of their joy—"the
Lord had made them joyful." There is joy in religion;
and this joy springs from God. The second is that
God had brought about the successful end of their
labours by directly influencing the Great King. He
had "turned the heart of the king of Assyria"—a title
for Darius that speaks for the authenticity of the
narrative, for it represents an old form of speech for
the ruler of the districts that had once belonged to the
king of Assyria. The third fact is that God had been
the source of strength to the Jews, so that they had
been able to complete their work. The result of the
Divine aid was "to strengthen their hands in the work
of the house of God, the God of Israel." Among his
own people joy and strength from God, in the great
world a providential direction of the mind of the king—this
was what faith now perceived, and the perception
of so wonderful a Divine activity made the Passover a
festival of boundless gladness. Wherever that ancient
Hebrew faith is experienced in conjunction with the
Passover spirit of separation from the leaven of sin
religion always is a well of joy.
CHAPTER X.
EZRA THE SCRIBE.
Ezra vii. 1-10.
Although the seventh chapter of "Ezra" begins
with no other indication of time than the vague
phrase "Now after these things," nearly sixty years had
elapsed between the events recorded in the previous
chapter and the mission of Ezra here described. We
have no history of this long period. Zerubbabel
passed into obscurity without leaving any trace of
his later years. He had accomplished his work; the
temple had been built; but the brilliant Messianic
anticipations that had clustered about him at the outset
of his career were to await their fulfilment in a
greater Son of David, and people could afford to neglect
the memory of the man who had only been a sort
of temporary trustee of the hope of Israel. We shall
come across indications of the effects of social trouble
and religious decadence in the state of Jerusalem as
she appeared at the opening of this new chapter in her
history. She had not recovered a vestige of her ancient
civic splendour; the puritan rigour with which the
returned exiles had founded a Church among the ruins
of her political greatness had been relaxed, so that the
one distinguishing feature of the humble colony was in
danger of melting away in easy and friendly associations
with neighbouring peoples. When it came, the revival
of zeal did not originate in the Holy City. It sprang up
among the Jews at Babylon. The earlier movement
in the reign of Cyrus had arisen in the same quarter.
The best of Judaism was no product of the soil of
Palestine: it was an exotic. The elementary "Torah"
of Moses emerged from the desert, with the learning
of Egypt as its background, long before it was cultivated
at Jerusalem to blossom in the reformation
of Josiah. The final edition of The Law was shaped
in the Valley of the Euphrates, with the literature
and science of Babylon to train its editors for their
great task, though it may have received its finishing
touches in Jerusalem. These facts by no means obscure
the glory of the inspiration and Divine character
of The Law. In its theology, in its ethics, in its
whole spirit and character, the Pentateuch is no more
a product of Babylonian than of Egyptian ideas. Its
purity and elevation of character speak all the more
emphatically for its Divine origin when we take into
account its corrupt surroundings; it was like a white
lily growing on a dung-heap.
Still it is important to notice that the great religious
revival of Ezra's time sprang up on the plains of Babylon,
not among the hills of Judah. This involves two
very different facts—the peculiar spiritual experience
with which it commenced, and the special literary and
scientific culture in the midst of which it was shaped.
First, it originated in the experience of the captivity,
in humiliation and loss, and after long brooding over the
meaning of the great chastisement. The exiles were
like poets who "learn in sorrow what they teach in
song." This is apparent in the pathetic psalms of the
same period, and in the writings of the visionary of
Chebar, who contributed a large share to the new
movement in view of the re-establishment of religious
worship at Jerusalem.
Thus Jerusalem was loved by the exiles, the temple
pictured in detail to the imagination of men who never
trod its sacred courts, and the sacrificial system most
carefully studied by people who had no means of
putting it in practice. No doubt The Law now represented
an intellectual rather than a concrete form of
religion. It was an ideal. So long as the real is with
us, it tends to depress the ideal by its material bulk and
weight. The ideal is elevated in the absence of the
real. Therefore the pauses of life are invaluable; by
breaking through the iron routine of habit, they give
us scope for the growth of larger ideas that may lead
to better attainments.
Secondly, this religious revival appeared in a centre
of scientific and literary culture. The Babylonians
"had cultivated arithmetic, astronomy, history, chronology,
geography, comparative philology, and grammar."Rawlinson, "Ezra and Nehemiah," p. 2.
In astronomy they were so advanced that
they had mapped out the heavens, catalogued the fixed
stars, calculated eclipses, and accounted for them correctly.
Their enormous libraries of terra-cotta, only
now being unearthed, testify to their literary activity.
The Jews brought back from Babylon the names of the
months, the new form of letters used in writing their
books, and many other products of the learning and
science of the Euphrates. Internally the religion of
Israel is solitary, pure, Divine. Externally the literary
form of it, and the physical conception of the universe
which it embodies, owe not a little to the light which
God had bestowed upon the people of Babylon; just
as Christianity, in soul and essence the religion of
Jesus of Nazareth, was shaped in theory by the thought,
and in discipline by the law and order, with which God
had endowed the two great European races of Greece
and Rome.
The chronicler introduces Ezra with a brief sketch of
his origin and a bare outline of his expedition to Jerusalem.Ezra vii. 1-10.
He then next transcribes a copy of the edict
of Artaxerxes which authorised the expedition.Ezra vii. 11-26.
After
this he inserts a detailed account of the expedition from
the pen of Ezra himself, so that here the narrative
proceeds in the first person—though, in the abrupt
manner of the whole book, without a word of warning
that this is to be the case.Ezra vii. 27-ix.
In the opening verses of Ezra vii. the chronicler gives
an epitome of the genealogy of Ezra, passing over
several generations, but leading up to Aaron. Ezra,
then, could claim a high birth. He was a born priest
of the select family of Zadok, but not of the later house
of high-priests. Therefore the privileges which are
assigned to that house in the Pentateuch cannot be
accounted for by ascribing ignoble motives of nepotism
to its publisher. Though Ezra is named "The Priest,"
he is more familiarly known to us as "The Scribe."
The chronicler calls him "a ready scribe" (or, a scribe
skilful) "in the law of Moses, which the Lord God
of Israel had given." Originally the title "Scribe"
was used for town recorders and registrars of the
census. Under the later kings of Judah, persons
bearing this name were attached to the court as the
writers and custodians of state documents. But these
are all quite distinct from the scribes who appeared
after the exile. The scribes of later days were guardians
and interpreters of the written Torah, the sacred
law. They appeared with the publication and adoption
of the Pentateuch. They not only studied and taught
this complete law; they interpreted and applied its
precepts. In so doing they had to pronounce judgments
of their own. Inasmuch as changing circumstances
necessarily required modifications in rules of
justice, while The Law could not be altered after Ezra's
day, great ingenuity was required to reconcile the old
law with the new decisions. Thus arose sophistical
casuistry. Then in "fencing" The Law the scribes
added precepts of their own to prevent men from
coming near the danger of transgression.
Scribism was one of the most remarkable features
of the later days of Israel. Its existence in so much
prominence showed that religion had passed into a new
phase, that it had assumed a literary aspect. The art of
writing was known, indeed, in Egypt and Babylon before
the exodus; it was even practised in Palestine among
the Hittites as early as Abraham. But at first in their
religious life the Jews did not give much heed to
literary documents. Priestism was regulated by traditional
usages rather than by written directions, and
justice was administered under the kings according to
custom, precedent, and equity. Quite apart from the
discussion concerning the antiquity of the Pentateuch,
it is certain that its precepts were neither used nor
known in the time of Josiah, when the reading of the
roll discovered in the temple was listened to with amazement.
Still less did prophetism rely on literary resources.
What need was there of a book when the
Spirit of God was speaking through the audible voice
of a living man? At first the prophets were men of
action. In more cultivated times they became orators,
and then their speeches were sometimes preserved—as
the speeches of Demosthenes were preserved—for future
reference, after their primary end had been served.
Jeremiah found it necessary to have a scribe, Baruch,
to write down his utterances. This was a further step
in the direction of literature; and Ezekiel was almost
entirely literary, for his prophecies were most of them
written in the first instance. Still they were prophecies;
i.e., they were original utterances, drawn directly from
the wells of inspiration. The function of the scribes
was more humble—to collect the sayings and traditions
of earlier ages; to arrange and edit the literary fragments
of more original minds. Their own originality was
almost confined to their explanations of difficult passages,
or their adaptation of what they received to new needs
and new circumstances. Thus we see theology passing
into the reflective stage: it is becoming historical; it
is being transformed into a branch of archæology. Ezra
the Scribe is nervously anxious to claim the authority
of Moses for what he teaches. The robust spirit of
Isaiah was troubled with no such scruple. Scribism
rose when prophecy declined. It was a melancholy
confession that the fountains of living water were drying
up. It was like an aqueduct laboriously constructed in
order to convey stored water to a thirsty people from
distant reservoirs. The reservoirs may be full, the
aqueduct may be sound; still who would not rather
drink of the sparkling stream as it springs from the rock?
Moreover scribism degenerated into rabbinism, the
scholasticism of the Jews. We may see its counterpart
in the Catholic scholasticism which drew supplies
from patristic tradition, and again in Protestant scholasticism—which
came nearer to the source of inspiration
in the Bible, and yet which stiffened into a traditional
interpretation of Scripture, confining its waters to iron
pipes of orthodoxy.
But some men refuse to be thus tied to antiquarianism.
They dare to believe that the Spirit of God is still in
the world, whispering in the fancy of little children,
soothing weary souls, thundering in the conscience of
sinners, enlightening honest inquirers, guiding perplexed
men of faith. Nevertheless we are always
in danger of one or other of the two extremes of
formal scholasticism and indefinite mysticism. The
good side of the scribes' function is suggestive of much
that is valuable. If God did indeed speak to men of
old "in divers portions and in divers manners,"Heb. i. 1.
what
He said must be of the greatest value to us, for truth
in its essence is eternal. We Christians have the solid
foundation of a historical faith to build upon, and we
cannot dispense with our gospel narratives and doctrinal
epistles. What Christ was, what Christ did, and the
meaning of all this, is of vital importance to us; but it
is chiefly important because it enables us to see what
He is to-day—a Priest ever living to make intercession
for us, a Deliverer who is even now able to save unto
the uttermost all who come unto God by Him, a
present Lord who claims the active loyalty of every
fresh generation of the men and women for whom He
died in the far-off past. We have to combine the
concrete historical religion with the inward, living,
spiritual religion to reach a faith that shall be true both
objectively and subjectively—true to the facts of the
universe, and true to personal experience.
Ezra accomplished his great work, to a large extent,
because he ventured to be more than a scribe. Even
when he was relying on the authority of antiquity, the
inspiration which was in him saved him from a pedantic
adherence to the letter of the Torah as he had received
it. The modification of The Law when it was reissued
by the great scribe, which is so perplexing to some
modern readers, is a proof that the religion of Israel
had not yet lost vitality and settled down into a fossil
condition. It was living; therefore it was growing,
and in growing it was casting its old shell and evolving
a new vesture better adapted to its changed
environment. Is not this just a signal proof that God
had not deserted His people?
Ezra is presented to us as a man of a deeply devout
nature. He cultivated his own personal religion before
he attempted to influence his compatriots. The chronicler
tells us that he had prepared (directed) his heart,
to seek the law of the Lord and to do it. With our
haste to obtain "results" in Christian service, there is
danger lest the need of personal preparation should
be neglected. But work is feeble and fruitless if the
worker is inefficient, and he must be quite as inefficient
if he has not the necessary graces as if he had not the
requisite gifts. Over and above the preparatory intellectual
culture—never more needed than in our own day—there
is the all-essential spiritual training. We cannot
effectually win others to that truth which has no place
in our own hearts. Enthusiasm is kindled by enthusiasm.
The fire must be first burning within the
preacher himself if he would light it in the breasts of
other men. Here lies the secret of the tremendous influence
Ezra exerted when he came to Jerusalem. He
was an enthusiast for the law he so zealously advocated.
Now enthusiasm is not the creation of a moment's
thought; it is the outgrowth of long meditation, inspired
by deep, passionate love. It shows itself in
the experience expressed by the Psalmist when he said,
"While I mused the fire burned."Psalm xxxix. 3.
Ours is not an age
of musing. But if we have no time to meditate over
the great verities of our faith, the flames will not be
kindled, and in place of the glowing fire of enthusiasm
we shall have the gritty ashes of officialism.
Ezra turned his thoughts to the law of his God; he
took this for the subject of his daily meditation, brooding
over it until it became a part of his own thinking. This
is the way a character is made. Men have larger power
over their thoughts than they are inclined to admit; and
the greatness or the meanness, the purity or the corruption
of their character depends on the way in which
that power is used. Evil thoughts may come unbidden
to the purest mind—for Christ was tempted by the
devil; but such thoughts can be resisted, and treated
as unwelcome intruders. The thoughts that are welcomed
and cherished, nourished in meditation, and
sedulously cultivated—these bosom friends of the inner
man determine what he himself is to become. To
allow one's mind to be treated as the plaything of
every idle reverie—like a boat drifting at the mercy of
wind and current without a hand at the helm—is to
court intellectual and moral shipwreck. The first condition
of achieving success in self-culture is to direct
the course of the thinking aright. St. Paul enumerated
a list of good and honourable subjects to bid us "think
on" such things.Phil. iv. 8.
The aim of Ezra's meditation was threefold. First,
he would "seek the law of the Lord," for the teacher
must begin with understanding the truth, and this may
involve much anxious searching. Possibly Ezra had
to pursue a literary inquiry, hunting up documents,
comparing data, arranging and harmonising scattered
fragments. But the most important part of his seeking
was his effort to find the real meaning and purpose of
The Law. It was in regard to this that he would have
to exercise his mind most earnestly. Secondly, his aim
was "to do it." He would not attempt to preach what
he had not tried to perform. He would test the effect
of his doctrine on himself before venturing to prescribe
it for others. Thus he would be most sure of escaping
a subtle snare which too often entraps the preacher.
When the godly man of business reads his Bible, it is
just to find light and food for his own soul; but when
the preacher turns the pages of the sacred book, he is
haunted by the anxiety to light upon suitable subjects
for his sermons. Every man who handles religious
truths in the course of his work is in danger of coming
to regard those truths as the tools of his trade. If he
succumbs to this danger it will be to his own personal
loss, and then even as instruments in his work the
degraded truths will be blunt and inefficient, because a
man can never know the doctrine until he has begun to
obey the commandment. If religious teaching is not
to be pedantic and unreal, it must be interpreted by
experience. The most vivid teaching is a transcript
from life. Thirdly, Ezra would "teach in Israel statutes
and judgments." This necessarily comes last—after
the meditation, after the experience. But it is of great
significance as the crown and finish of the rest. Ezra
is to be his nation's instructor. In the new order the
first place is not to be reserved for a king; it is assigned
to a schoolmaster.
This will be increasingly the case as knowledge is
allowed to prevail, and as truth is permitted to sway
the lives of men and fashion the history of communities.
So far we have Ezra's own character and culture.
But there was another side to his preparation for his
great life-work of which the chronicler took note, and
which he described in a favourite phrase of Ezra's, a
phrase so often used by the scribe that the later writer
adopted it quite naturally. Ezra's request to be permitted
to go up to Jerusalem with a new expedition is
said to have been granted him by the king "according
to the hand of the Lord his God upon him."Ezra vii. 6.
Thus
the chronicler here acknowledges the Divine hand in
the whole business, as he has the inspired insight to
do again and again in the course of his narrative.
The special phrase thus borrowed from Ezra is rich in
meaning. In an earlier passage the chronicler noticed
that "the eye of their God was upon the elders of the
Jews."Ezra v. 5.
Now, in Ezra's phrase, it is the hand of his
God that is on Ezra. The expression gives us a
distinct indication of the Divine activity. God works,
and, so to speak, uses His hand. It also suggests the
nearness of God. The hand of God is not only moving
and acting; it is upon Ezra. God touches the man,
holds him, directs him, impels him; and, as he shows
elsewhere, Ezra is conscious of the influence, if not
immediately, yet by means of a devout study of the
providential results. This Divine power even goes so
far as to move the Persian monarch. The chronicler
ascribes the conduct of successive kings of Persia to
the immediate action of God. But here it is connected
with God's hand being on Ezra. When God is holding
and directing His servants, even external circumstances
are found to work for their good, and even other men
are induced to further the same end. This brings us
to the kernel, the very essence of religion. That was not
found in Ezra's wisely chosen meditations; nor was it
to be seen in his devout practices. Behind and beneath
the man's earnest piety was the unseen but mighty
action of God; and here, in the hand of his God resting
upon him, was the root of all his religious life. In
experience the human and the Divine elements of
religion are inextricably blended together; but the vital
element, that which originates and dominates the whole,
is the Divine. There is no real, living religion without
it. It is the secret of energy and the assurance of
victory. The man of true religion is he who has the
hand of God resting upon him, he whose thought and
action are inspired and swayed by the mystic touch
of the Unseen.
CHAPTER XI.
EZRA'S EXPEDITION.
Ezra vii. 11-viii.
Like the earlier pilgrimage of Zerubbabel and his
companions, Ezra's great expedition was carried
out under a commission from the Persian monarch
of his day. The chronicler simply calls this king
"Artaxerxes" (Artahshashta), a name borne by three
kings of Persia; but there can be no reasonable doubt
that his reference is to the son and successor of Xerxes—known
by the Greeks as "Macrocheir," and by the
Romans as "Longimanus"—Artaxerxes "of the long
hand," for this Artaxerxes alone enjoyed a sufficiently
extended reign to include both the commencement of
Ezra's public work and the later scenes in the life of
Nehemiah which the chronicler associates with the
same king. Artaxerxes was but a boy when he ascended
the throne, and the mission of Ezra took place
in his earlier years, while the generous enthusiasm of the
kindly sovereign—whose gentleness has become historic—had
not yet been crushed by the cares of empire. In
accordance with the usual style of our narrative, we have
his decree concerning the Jews preserved and transcribed
in full; and yet here, as in other cases, we must
make some allowance either for the literary freedom
of the chronicler, or for the Jewish sympathies of the
translator; for it cannot be supposed that a heathen,
such as Artaxerxes undoubtedly was, would have
shown the knowledge of the Hebrew religion, or have
owned the faith in it, which the edict as we now have it
suggests. Nevertheless, here again, there is no reason
to doubt the substantial accuracy of the document, for
it is quite in accord with the policy of the previous
kings Cyrus and Darius, and in its special features it
entirely agrees with the circumstances of the history.
This edict of Longimanus goes beyond any of its
predecessors in favoring the Jews, especially with
regard to their religion. It is directly and personally
addressed to Ezra, whom the king may have known as
an earnest, zealous leader of the Hebrew community at
Babylon, and through him it grants to all Jewish exiles
who wish to go up to Jerusalem liberty to return to the
home of their fathers. It may be objected that after
the decree of Cyrus any such fresh sanction should
not have been needed. But two generations had
passed away since the pilgrimage of the first body of
returning captives, and during this long time many
things had happened to check the free action of the
Jews and to cast reproach upon their movements. For
a great expedition to start now without any orders from
the reigning monarch might excite his displeasure, and
a subject people who were dependent for their very
existence on the good-will of an absolute sovereign
would naturally hesitate before they ventured to rouse
his suspicions by undertaking any considerable migration
on their own account.
But Artaxerxes does much more than sanction the
journey to Jerusalem; he furthers the object of this
journey with royal bounty, and he lays a very important
commission on Ezra, a commission which carries with
it the power, if not the name, of a provincial magistrate.
In the first place, the edict authorises a state endowment
of the Jewish religion. Ezra is to carry great stores to
the poverty-stricken community at Jerusalem. These are
made up in part of contributions from the Babylonian
Jews, in part of generous gifts from their friendly
neighbours, and in part of grants from the royal
treasury. The temple has been rebuilt, and the funds
now accumulated are not like the bulk of those collected
in the reign of Cyrus for a definite object, the cost of
which might be set down to the "Capital Account" in
the restoration of the Jews; they are destined in some
measure for improvements to the structure, but they
are also to be employed in maintenance charges, especially
in supporting the costly services of the temple.
Thus the actual performance of the daily ritual at the
Jerusalem sanctuary is to be kept up by means of the
revenues of the Persian Empire. Then, the edict proceeds
to favour the priesthood by freeing that order from
the burden of taxation. This "clerical immunity,"
which suggests an analogy with the privileges the
Christian clergy prized so highly in the Middle Ages,
is an indirect form of increased endowment, but the
manner in which the endowment is granted calls
especial attention to the privileged status of the order
that enjoys it. Thus the growing importance of the
Jerusalem hierarchy is openly fostered by the Persian
king. Still further, Artaxerxes adds to his endowment
of the Jewish religion a direct legal establishment.
Ezra is charged to see that the law of his God is
observed throughout the whole region extending up
from the Euphrates to Jerusalem. This can only be
meant to apply to the Jews who were scattered over the
wide area, especially those of Syria. Still the mandate
is startling enough, especially when we take into account
the heavy sanctions with which it is weighted, for
Ezra has authority given him to enforce obedience by
excommunication, by fine, by imprisonment, and even
by the death-penalty. "The law of his God" is named
side by side with "the law of the king."Ezra vii. 26.
and the two
are to be obeyed equally. Fortunately, owing to the
unsettled condition of the country as well as to Ezra's
own somewhat unpractical disposition, the reformer
never seems to have put his great powers fully to the
test.
Now, as in the previous cases of Cyrus and Darius,
we are confronted with the question, How came the
Persian king to issue such a decree? It has been
suggested that as Egypt was in revolt at the time, he
desired to strengthen the friendly colony at Jerusalem
as a western bulwark. But, as we have seen in the
case of Cyrus, the Jews were too few and feeble to be
taken much account of among the gigantic forces of the
vast empire; and, moreover, it was not the military
fortification of Jerusalem—certainly a valuable stronghold
when well maintained—but the religious services
of the temple and the observance of The Law that this
edict aimed at aiding and encouraging. No doubt in
times of unsettlement the king would behave most
favourably towards a loyal section of his people. Still,
more must be assigned as an adequate motive for his
action. Ezra is charged as a special commissioner to
investigate the condition of the Jews in Palestine. He
is to "inquire concerning Judah and Jerusalem."Ezra vii. 14.
Inasmuch
as it was customary for the Persian monarchs
to send out inspectors from time to time to examine
and report on the condition of the more remote districts
of their extensive empire, it has been plausibly suggested
that Ezra may have been similarly employed. But
in the chronicler's report of the edict we read, immediately
after the injunction to make the investigation,
an important addition describing how this was to be
done, viz., "According to the law of thy God which is
in thine hand,"Ezra. vii. 14.
which shows that Ezra's inquiry was
to be of a religious character, and as a preliminary to
the exaction of obedience to the Jewish law. It may
be said that this clause was not a part of the original
decree; but the drift of the edict is religious throughout
rather than political, and therefore the clause in question
is fully in harmony with its character. There is one
sentence which is of the deepest significance, if only we
can believe that it embodies an original utterance of the
king himself—"Whatsoever is commanded by the God
of heaven, let it be done exactly for the house of the
God of heaven; for why should there be wrath against
the realm of the king and his sons?"Ezra vii. 23.
While his
empire was threatened by dangerous revolts, Artaxerxes
seems to have desired to conciliate the God whom the
most devout of his people regarded with supreme awe.
What is more clear and at the same time more
important is the great truth detected by Ezra and
recorded by him in a grateful burst of praise. Without
any warning the chronicler suddenly breaks off his
own narrative, written in the third person, to insert a
narrative written by Ezra himself in the first person—beginning
at Ezra vii. 27 and continued down to Ezra x.
The scribe opens by blessing God—"the Lord God of
our fathers," who had "put such a thing in the king's
heart as to beautify the house of the Lord which is
in Jerusalem."Ezra vii. 27.
This, then, was a Divine movement.
It can only be accounted for by ascribing the original
impulse to God. Natural motives of policy or of superstition
may have been providentially manipulated, but
the hand that used them was the hand of God. The
man who can perceive this immense fact at the very
outset of his career is fit for any enterprise. His transcendent
faith will carry him through difficulties that
would be insuperable to the worldly schemer.
Passing from the thought of the Divine influence on
Artaxerxes, Ezra further praises God because he has
himself received "mercy ... before the king and his
counsellors, and before all the king's mighty princes."Ezra vii. 28.
This personal thanksgiving is evidently called forth by
the scribe's consideration of the part assigned to him
in the royal edict. There was enough in that edict to
make the head of a self-seeking, ambitious man swim
with vanity. But we can see from the first that Ezra
is of a higher character. The burning passion that
consumes him has not a particle of hunger for self-aggrandisement;
it is wholly generated by devotion to
the law of his God. In the narrowness and bigotry
that characterise his later conduct as a reformer, some
may suspect the action of that subtle self-will which
creeps unawares into the conduct of some of the
noblest men. Still the last thing that Ezra seeks, and
the last thing that he cares for when it is thrust upon
him, is the glory of earthly greatness.
Ezra's aim in leading the expedition may be gathered
from the reflection of it in the royal edict, since that
edict was doubtless drawn up with the express purpose
of furthering the project of the favoured Jew. Ezra
puts the beautifying of the temple in the front of his
grateful words of praise to God. But the personal
commission entrusted to Ezra goes much further. The
decree significantly recognises the fact that he is to
carry up to Jerusalem a copy of the Sacred Law. It
refers to "the law of thy God which is in thine hand."Ezra vii. 14.
We shall hear more of this hereafter. Meanwhile it is
important to see that the law, obedience to which Ezra
is empowered to exact, is to be conveyed by him to
Jerusalem. Thus he is both to introduce it to the
notice of the people, and to see that it does not remain
a dead letter among them. He is to teach it to those
who do not know it.Ezra vii. 25.
At the same time these people
are distinctly separated from others, who are expressly
described as "all such as know the laws of thy God."Ibid.
This plainly implies that both the Jerusalem Jews, and
those west of the Euphrates generally, were not all of
them ignorant of the Divine Torah. Some of them, at
all events, knew the laws they were to be made to
obey. Still they may not have possessed them in any
written form. The plural term "laws" is here used,
while the written compilation which Ezra carried up
with him is described in the singular as "The Law."
Ezra, then, having searched out The Law and tested it
in his own experience, is now eager to take it up to
Jerusalem, and get it executed among his fellow-countrymen
at the religious metropolis as well as
among the scattered Jews of the provincial districts.
His great purpose is to make what he believes to be
the will of God known, and to see that it is obeyed.
The very idea of a Torah implies a Divine will in
religion. It presses upon our notice the often-forgotten
fact that God has something to say to us about our
conduct, that when we are serving Him it is not enough
to be zealous, that we must also be obedient. Obedience
is the keynote of Judaism. It is not less prominent in
Christianity. The only difference is that Christians
are freed from the shackles of a literal law in order
that they may carry out "the law of liberty," by doing
the will of God from the heart as loyal disciples of
Jesus Christ, so that for us, as for the Jews, obedience
is the most fundamental fact of religion. We can
walk by faith in the freedom of sons; but that implies
that we have "the obedience of faith." The ruling
principle of our Lord's life is expressed in the words
"I delight to do Thy will, O My God," and this
must be the ruling principle in the life of every true
Christian.
Equipped with a royal edict, provided with rich contributions,
inspired with a great religious purpose,
confident that the hand of his God was upon him, Ezra
collected his volunteers, and proceeded to carry out his
commission with all practicable speed. In his record
of the journey, he first sets down a list of the families
that accompanied him. It is interesting to notice names
that had occurred in the earlier list of the followers of
Zerubbabel, showing that some of the descendants of
those who refused to go on the first expedition took
part in the second. They remind us of Christiana and
her children, who would not join the Pilgrim when he
set out from the City of Destruction, but who subsequently
followed in his footsteps.
But there was little at Jerusalem to attract a new
expedition; for the glamour which had surrounded the
first return, with a son of David at its head, had faded
in grievous disappointments; and the second series of
pilgrims had to carry with them the torch with which
to rekindle the flames of devotion.
Ezra states that when he had marshalled his forces
he spent three days with them by a river called the
"Ahava," apparently because it flowed by a town
of that name. The exact site of the camp cannot be
determined, although it could not have been far from
Babylon, and the river must have been either one of
the tributaries of the Euphrates or a canal cut through
its alluvial plain. The only plausible conjecture of a
definite site settles upon a place now known as Hit, in
the neighbourhood of some bitumen springs; and the
interest of this place may be found in the fact that here
the usual caravan route leaves the fertile Valley of the
Euphrates and plunges into the waterless desert. Even
if Ezra decided to avoid the difficult desert track, and
to take his heavy caravan round through Northern Syria
by way of Aleppo and the Valley of the Orontes—an
extended journey which would account for the three
months spent on the road—it would still be natural for
him to pause at the parting of the ways and review
the gathered host. One result of this review was the
startling discovery that there were no Levites in the
whole company. We were struck with the fact that
but a very small and disproportionate number of these
officials accompanied the earlier pilgrimage of Zerubbabel,
and we saw the probable explanation in the disappointment
if not the disaffection of the Levites at their
degradation by Ezekiel. The more rigid arrangement
of Ezra's edition of The Law, which gave them a definite
and permanent place in a second rank, below the priesthood,
was not likely to encourage them to volunteer for
the new expedition. Nothing is more difficult than
self-effacement even in the service of God.
There was a community of Levites at a place called
Casiphia,The site of this town has not been identified. It could not have
been far from Ahava.
under the direction of a leader named Iddo.
It would be interesting to think that this community
was really a sort of Levitical college, a school of students
of the Torah; but we have no data to go upon in forming
an opinion. One thing is certain. We cannot
suppose that the new edition of The Law had been
drawn up in this community of the Levites, because
Ezra had started with it in his hand as the charter of
his great enterprise; nor, indeed, in any other Levitical
college, because it was not at all according to the mind
of the Levites.
After completing his company by the addition of
the Levites, Ezra made a solemn religious preparation
for his journey. Like the Israelites after the defeat at
Gibeah in their retributive war with Benjamin;Judges xx. 26.
like
the penitent people at Mizpeh, in the days of Samuel,
when they put away their idols;1 Sam. vii. 6.
like Jehoshaphat and
his subjects when rumours of a threatened invasion
filled them with apprehension,2 Chron. xx. 3.
—Ezra and his followers
fasted and humbled themselves before God in view of
their hazardous undertaking. The fasting was a natural
sign of the humiliation, and this prostration before God
was at once a confession of sin and an admission of
absolute dependence on His mercy. Thus the people
reveal themselves as the "poor in spirit" to whom our
Lord directs his first beatitude. They are those who
humble themselves, and therefore those whom God will
exalt.
We must not confound this state of self-humiliation
before God with the totally different condition of abject
fear which shrinks from danger in contemptible
cowardice. The very opposite to that is the attitude
of these humble pilgrims. Like the Puritan soldiers
who became bold as lions before man in the day of
battle, just because they had spent the night in fasting
and tears and self-abasement before God, Ezra and his
people rose from their penitential fast, calmly prepared
to face all dangers in the invincible might of God.
There seems to have been some enemy whom Ezra
knew to be threatening his path, for when he got safely
to the end of his journey he gave thanks for God's protection
from this foe;Ezra viii. 31.
and, in any case, so wealthy a
caravan as his was would provoke the cupidity of
the roving hordes of Bedouin that infested the Syrian
wastes. Ezra's first thought was to ask for an escort;
but he tells us that he was ashamed to do so, as this
would imply distrust in God.Ezra viii. 22.
Whatever we may
think of his logic, we must be struck by his splendid
faith, and the loyalty which would run a great risk
rather than suffer what might seem like dishonour
to his God. Here was one of God's heroes. We
cannot but connect the preliminary fast with this
courageous attitude of Ezra's. So in tales of chivalry
we read how knights were braced by prayer and fast
and vigil to enter the most terrible conflicts with talismans
of victory. In an age of rushing activity it is
hard to find the hidden springs of strength in their
calm retreats. The glare of publicity starts us on the
wrong track, by tempting us to advertise our own
excellences, instead of abasing ourselves in the dust
before God. Yet is it not now as true as ever that no
boasted might of man can be in any way comparable to
the Divine strength which takes possession of those
who completely surrender their wills to God? Happy
are they who have the grace to walk in the valley of
humiliation, for this leads to the armoury of supernatural
power!
CHAPTER XII.
FOREIGN MARRIAGES.
Ezra ix.
The successful issue of Ezra's undertaking was
speedily followed by a bitter disappointment on
the part of its leader, the experience of which urged
him to make a drastic reformation that rent many a
happy home asunder and filled Jerusalem with the
grief of broken hearts.
During the obscure period that followed the dedication
of the temple—a period of which we have no
historical remains—the rigorous exclusiveness which
had marked the conduct of the returned exiles when
they had rudely rejected the proposal of their Gentile
neighbours to assist them in rebuilding the temple was
abandoned, and freedom of intercourse went so far as
to permit intermarriage with the descendants of the
Canaanite aborigines and the heathen population of
neighbouring nations. Ezra gives a list of tribal names
closely resembling the lists preserved in the history of
early ages, when the Hebrews first contemplated taking
possession of the promised land;Ezra. ix. 1.
but it cannot be
imagined that the ancient tribes preserved their independent
names and separate existence as late as the
time of the return—though the presence of the gypsies
as a distinct people in England to-day shows that racial
distinction may be kept up for ages in a mixed society.
It is more probable that the list is literary, that the
names are reminiscences of the tribes as they were
known in ancient traditions. In addition to these old
inhabitants of Canaan, there are Ammonites and
Moabites from across the Jordan, Egyptians, and,
lastly, most significantly separate from the Canaanite
tribes, those strange folk, the Amorites, who are
discovered by recent ethnological research to be of
a totally different stock from that of the Canaanite
tribes, probably allied to a light-coloured people that
can be traced along the Libyan border, and possibly
even of Aryan origin. From all these races the Jews
had taken them wives. So wide was the gate flung
open!
This freedom of intermarriage may be viewed as a
sign of general laxity and indifference on the part of
the citizens of Jerusalem, and so Ezra seems to have
regarded it. But it would be a mistake to suppose that
there was no serious purpose associated with it, by means
of which grave and patriotic men attempted to justify
the practice. It was a question whether the policy of
exclusiveness had succeeded. The temple had been
built, it is true; and a city had risen among the ruins
of ancient Jerusalem. But poverty, oppression, hardship,
and disappointment had settled down on the little
Judæan community, which now found itself far worse
off than the captives in Babylon. Feeble and isolated,
the Jews were quite unable to resist the attacks of their
jealous neighbours. Would it not be better to come to
terms with them, and from enemies convert them into
allies? Then the policy of exclusiveness involved
commercial ruin; and men who knew how their brethren
in Chaldæa were enriching themselves by trade with
the heathen, were galled by a yoke which held them
back from foreign intercourse. It would seem to be
advisable, on social as well as on political grounds, that
a new and more liberal course should be pursued, if the
wretched garrison was not to be starved out. Leading
aristocratic families were foremost in contracting the
foreign alliances. It is such as they who would profit
most, as it is such as they who would be most tempted
to consider worldly motives and to forgo the austerity
of their fathers. There does not seem to have been
any one recognised head of the community after Zerubbabel;
the "princes" constituted a sort of informal
oligarchy. Some of these princes had taken foreign
wives. Priests and Levites had also followed the same
course. It is a historical fact that the party of rigour
is not generally the official party. In the days of our
Lord the priests and rulers were mostly Sadducean,
while the Pharisees were men of the people. The
English Puritans were not of the Court party. But in
the case before us the leaders of the people were
divided. While we do not meet any priests among the
purists, some of the princes disapproved of the laxity
of their neighbours, and exposed it to Ezra.
Ezra was amazed, appalled. In the dramatic style
which is quite natural to an Oriental, he rent both his
tunic and his outer mantle, and he tore his hair and
his long priestly beard. This expressed more than
the grief of mourning which is shown by tearing one
garment and cutting the hair. Like the high-priest
when he ostentatiously rent his clothes at what he
wished to be regarded as blasphemy in the words of
Jesus, Ezra showed indignation and rage by his violent
action. It was a sign of his startled and horrified
emotions; but no doubt it was also intended to produce
an impression on the people who gathered in awe
to watch the great ambassador, as he sat amazed and
silent on the temple pavement through the long hours
of the autumn afternoon.
The grounds of Ezra's grief and anger may be
learnt from the remarkable prayer which he poured
out when the stir occasioned by the preparation of the
vesper ceremonies roused him, and when the ascending
smoke of the evening sacrifice would naturally suggest
to him an occasion for drawing near to God. Welling
up, hot and passionate, his prayer is a revelation of
the very heart of the scribe. Ezra shows us what
true prayer is—that it is laying bare the heart and soul
in the presence of God. The striking characteristic of
this outburst of Ezra's is that it does not contain a
single petition. There is no greater mistake in regard
to prayer than the notion that it is nothing more than
the begging of specific favours from the bounty of the
Almighty. That is but a shallow kind of prayer at
best. In the deepest and most real prayer the soul is
too near to God to ask for any definite thing; it is just
unbosoming itself to the Great Confidant, just telling
out its agony to the Father who can understand everything
and receive the whole burden of the anguished
spirit.
Considering this prayer more in detail, we may
notice, in the first place, that Ezra comes out as a
true priest, not indeed officiating at the altar with
ceremonial sacrifices, but identifying himself with the
people he represents, so that he takes to his own breast
the shame of what he regards as the sin of his
people. Prostrate with self-humiliation, he cries, "O
my God, I am ashamed and blush to lift up my
face to Thee, my God,"Ezra ix. 6.
and he speaks of the sins
which have just been made known to him as though
he had a share in them, calling them "our iniquities"
and "our trespass."Ibid.
Have we not here a glimpse
into that mystery of vicarious sin-bearing which is
consummated in the great intercession and sacrifice
of our Lord? Though himself a sinful man, and
therefore at heart sharing the guilt of his people by
personal participation in it, as the holy Jesus could
not do, still in regard to the particular offence which he
is now deploring, Ezra is as innocent as an unfallen
angel. Yet he blushes for shame, and lies prostrate
with confusion of face. He is such a true patriot
that he completely identifies himself with his people.
But in proportion as such an identification is felt,
there must be an involuntary sense of the sharing
of guilt. It is vain to call it an illusion of the
imagination. Before the bar of strict justice Ezra
was as innocent of this one sin, as before the same bar
Christ was innocent of all sin. God could not really
disapprove of him for it, any more than He could look
with disfavour on the great Sin-bearer. But subjectively,
in his own experience, Ezra did not feel less
poignant pangs of remorse than he would have felt if he
had been himself personally guilty. This perfect sympathy
of true priesthood is rarely experienced; but
since Christians are called to be priests, to make intercession,
and to bear one another's burdens, something
approaching it must be shared by all the followers of
Christ; they who would go forth as saviours of their
brethren must feel it acutely. The sin-bearing sacrifice
of Christ stands alone in its perfect efficacy, and many
mysteries crowd about it that cannot be explained by
any human analogies. Still here and there we come
across faint likenesses in the higher experiences of the
better men, enough to suggest that our Lord's passion
was not a prodigy, that it was really in harmony with
the laws by which God governs the moral universe.
In thus confessing the sin of the people before God,
but in language which the people who shared with him
a reverence for The Law could hear, no doubt Ezra
hoped to move them also to share in his feelings of
shame and abhorrence for the practices he was deploring.
He came dangerously near to the fatal mistake
of preaching through a prayer, by "praying at"
the congregation. He was evidently too deeply moved
to be guilty of an insincerity, a piece of profanity, at
which every devout soul must revolt. Nevertheless
the very exercise of public prayer—prayer uttered
audibly, and conducted by the leader of a congregation—means
that this is to be an inducement for the people
to join in the worship. The officiating minister is not
merely to pray before the congregation, while the
people kneel as silent auditors. His prayer is designed
to guide and help their prayers, so that there
may be "common prayer" throughout the whole
assembly. In this way it may be possible for him
to influence men and women by praying with them, as
he can never do by directly preaching to them. The
essential point is that the prayer must first of all be
real on the part of the leader—that he must be truly
addressing God, and then that his intention with regard
to the people must be not to exhort them through his
prayer, but simply to induce them to join him in it.
Let us now inquire what was the nature of the sin
which so grievously distressed Ezra, and which he
regarded as so heavy a slur on the character of his
people in the sight of God. On the surface of it, there
was just a question of policy. Some have argued that
the party of rigour was mistaken, that its course was
suicidal, that the only way of preserving the little
colony was by means of well-adjusted alliances with
its neighbours—a low view of the question which Ezra
would not have glanced at for a moment, because with
his supreme faith in God no consideration of worldly
expediency or political diplomacy could be allowed to
deflect him from the path indicated, as he thought, by
the Divine will. But a higher line of opposition has
been taken. It has been said that Ezra was illiberal,
uncharitable, culpably narrow, and heartlessly harsh.
That the man who could pour forth such a prayer as
this, every sentence of which throbs with emotion,
every word of which tingles with intense feeling—that
this man was heartless cannot be believed. Still it
may be urged that Ezra took a very different view from
that suggested by the genial outlook across the nations
which we meet in Isaiah. The lovely idyll of Ruth
defends the course he condemned so unsparingly. The
Book of Jonah was written directly in rebuke of one
form of Jewish exclusiveness. Ezra was going even
further than the Book of Deuteronomy, which had
allowed marriages with the heathen,Deut. xxi. 13.
and had laid
down definite marriage laws in regard to foreign connections.Deut. xxiii. 1-8.
It cannot be maintained that all the races
named by Ezra were excluded. Could it be just to
condemn the Jews for not having followed the later
and more exacting edition of The Law, which Ezra had
only just brought up with him, and which had not been
known by the offenders?
In trying to answer these questions, we must start
from one clear fact. Ezra is not merely guided by a
certain view of policy. He may be mistaken, but he is
deeply conscientious, his motive is intensely religious.
Whether rightly or wrongly, he is quite persuaded
that the social condition at which he is so grievously
shocked is directly opposed to the known will of God.
"We have forsaken Thy commandments," he exclaims.
But what commandments, we may ask, seeing that the
people of Jerusalem did not possess a law that went so
far as Ezra was requiring of them? His own language
here comes in most appositely. Ezra does not appeal
to Deuteronomy, though he may have had a passage
from that book in mind,Deut. vii. 3.
neither does he produce the
Law Book which he has brought up with him from
Babylon and to which reference is made in our version
of the decree of Artaxerxes;Ezra vii. 14.
but he turns to the
prophets, not with reference to any of their specific
utterances, but in the most general way, implying that
his view is derived from the broad stream of prophecy
in its whole course and character. In his prayer he
describes the broken commandments as "those which
Thou hast commanded by Thy servants the prophets."
This is the more remarkable because the prophets did
not favour the scrupulous observance of external rules,
but dwelt on great principles of righteousness. Some
of them took the liberal side, and expressed decidedly
cosmopolitan ideas in regard to foreign nations as
Ezra must have been aware. He may have mentally
anticipated the excuses which would be urged in
reliance on isolated utterances of this character. Still,
on a survey of the whole course of prophecy, he is
persuaded that it is opposed to the practices which
he condemns. He throws his conclusion into a
definite sentence, after the manner of a verbal quotation,Ezra ix. 11.
but this is only in accordance with the vivid,
dramatic style of Semitic literature, and what he really
means is that the spirit of his national prophecy and the
principles laid down by the recognised prophets support
him in the position which he has taken up. These
prophets fought against all corrupt practices, and in
particular they waged ceaseless war with the introduction
of heathenish manners to the religious and social life of
Israel. It is here that Ezra finds them to be powerful
allies in his stern reformation. They furnish him, so
to speak, with his major premiss, and that is indisputable.
His weak place is in his minor premiss, viz.,
in the notion that intermarriage with Gentile neighbours
necessarily involves the introduction of corrupt
heathenish habits. This he quietly assumes. But
there is much to be said for his position, especially
when we note that he is not now concerned with the
Samaritans, with whom the temple-builders came into
contact and who accepted some measure of the Jewish
faith, but in some cases with known idolaters—the
Egyptians for instance. The complex social and moral
problems which surround the quarrel on which Ezra
here embarks will come before us more fully as we
proceed. At present it may suffice for us to see that
Ezra rests his action on his conception of the main
characteristics of the teaching of the prophets.
Further, his reading of history comes to his aid.
He perceives that it was the adoption of heathenish
practices that necessitated the severe chastisement of
the captivity. God had only spared a small remnant
of the guilty people. But He had been very gracious
to that remnant, giving them "a nail in His holy
place";Ezra ix. 8.
i.e., a fixture in the restored sanctuary,
though as yet, as it were, but at one small point, because
so few had returned to enjoy the privileges of the
sacred temple worship. Now even this nail might
be drawn. Will the escaped remnant be so foolish as
to imitate the sins of their forefathers, and risk the
slight hold which they have as yet obtained in the
renewed centre of Divine favour? So to repudiate the
lessons of the captivity, which should have been
branded irrevocably by the hot irons of its cruel
hardships, what was this but a sign of the most
desperate depravity? Ezra could see no hope even
of a remnant escaping from the wrath which would
consume the people who were guilty of such wilful,
such open-eyed apostasy.
In the concluding sentences of his prayer Ezra
appeals to the righteousness of God, who had permitted
the remnant to escape at the time of the Babylonian
Captivity, saying, "O Lord, the God of Israel, Thou art
righteous; for we are left a remnant that is escaped,
as it is this day."Ezra ix. 15.
Some have supposed that God's
righteousness here stands for His goodness, and that
Ezra really means the mercy which spared the remnant.
But this interpretation is contrary to usage, and quite
opposed to the spirit of the prayer. Ezra has referred
to the mercy of God earlier, but in his final sentences he
has another thought in mind. The prayer ends in gloom
and despondency—"behold, we are before Thee in our
guiltiness; for none can stand before Thee because
of this."Ezra ix. 15.
The righteousness of God, then, is seen in
the fact that only a remnant was spared. Ezra does
not plead for the pardon of the guilty people, as Moses
did in his famous prayer of intercession.Exod. xxxii. 31, 32.
As yet
they are not conscious of their sin. To forgive them
before they have owned their guilt would be immoral.
The first condition of pardon is confession. "If we
confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us
our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness."1 John i. 9.
Then, indeed, the very righteousness of God favours
the pardon of the sinner. But till this state of contrition
is reached, not only can there be no thought of
forgiveness, but the sternest, darkest thoughts of sin
are most right and fitting. Ezra is far too much in
earnest simply to wish to help his people to escape
from the consequences of their conduct. This would
not be salvation. It would be moral shipwreck. The
great need is to be saved from the evil conduct itself.
It is to this end that the very passion of his soul is
directed. Here we perceive the spirit of the true
reformer. But the evangelist cannot afford to dispense
with something of the same spirit, although he can add
the gracious encouragements of a gospel; for the only
true gospel promises deliverance from sin itself in the
first instance as from the greatest of all evils, and
deliverance from no other evil except on condition of
freedom from this.
Chapter XIII.
THE HOME SACRIFICED TO THE CHURCH.
Ezra x.
Ezra's narrative, written in the first person, ceases
with his prayer, the conclusion of which brings
us to the end of the ninth chapter of our Book of
Ezra; at the tenth chapter the chronicler resumes
his story, describing, however, the events which immediately
follow. His writing is here as graphic as
Ezra's, and if it is not taken from notes left by the
scribe, at all events it would seem to be drawn from
the report of another eye-witness; for it describes most
remarkable scenes with a vividness that brings them
before the mind's eye, so that the reader cannot study
them even at this late day without a pang of sympathy.
Ezra's prayer and confession, his grievous weeping
and prostrate humiliation before God, deeply affected the
spectators; and as the news spread through the city,
a very great congregation of men, women, and children
assembled together to gaze at the strange spectacle.
They could not gaze unmoved. Deep emotion is contagious.
The man who is himself profoundly convinced
and intensely concerned with his religious ideas will
certainly win disciples. Where the soundest arguments
have failed to persuade, a single note of sincere faith
often strikes home. It is the passion of the orator that
rouses the multitude, and even where there is no oratory
the passion of true feeling pleads with irresistible eloquence.
Ezra had not to speak a word to the people.
What he was, what he felt, his agony of shame, his
agony of prayer—all this melted them to tears, and a cry
of lamentation went up from the gathered multitudes in
the temple courts. Their grief was more than a sentimental
reflection of the scribe's distress, for the Jews
could see plainly that it was for them and for their
miserable condition that this ambassador from the
Persian court was mourning so piteously. His sorrow
was wholly vicarious. By no calamity or offence of his
own, but simply by what he regarded as their wretched
fall, Ezra was now plunged into heart-broken agony.
Such a result of their conduct could not but excite the
keenest self-reproaches in the breasts of all who in any
degree shared his view of the situation. Then the only
path of amendment visible before them was one that
involved the violent rupture of home ties; the cruel
severance of husband and wife, of parent and child;
the complete sacrifice of human love on what appeared
to be the altar of duty to God. It was indeed a bitter
hour for the Jews who felt themselves to be offenders,
and for their innocent wives and children who would
be involved in any attempted reformation.
The confusion was arrested by the voice of one man, a
layman named Shecaniah the son of Jehiel, who came
to the assistance of Ezra as a volunteer spokesman of
the people. This man entirely surrendered to Ezra's
view, making a frank and unreserved confession of his
own and the people's sin. So far then Ezra has won
his point. He has begun to gain assent from among
the offenders. Shecaniah adds to his confession a
sentence of some ambiguity, saying, "Yet now there is
hope for Israel concerning this thing."Ezra x. 2.
This might be
thought to mean that God was merciful, and that there
was hope in the penitent attitude of the congregation
that He would take pity on the people and not deal
hardly with them. But the similarity of the phraseology
to the words of the last verse of the previous chapter,
where the expression "because of this"Ezra ix. 15.
plainly
points to the offence as the one thing in view, shows
that the allusion here is to that offence, and not to the
more recent signs of penitence. Shecaniah means,
then, that there is hope concerning this matter of the
foreign marriages—viz., that they may be rooted out
of Israel. The hope is for a reformation, not for any
condoning of the offence. It means despair to the
unhappy wives, the end of all home peace and joy in
many a household—a lurid hope surely, and hardly
worthy of the name except on the lips of a fanatic.
Shecaniah now proceeds to make a definite proposal.
He would have the people enter into a solemn covenant
with God. They are not only to undergo a great
domestic reformation, but they are to take a vow in
the sight of God that they will carry it through.
Shecaniah shows the unreflecting zeal of a raw convert;
an officious person, a meddler, he is too bold and
forward for one whose place is the penitent's bench.
The covenant is to pledge the people to divorce their
foreign wives. Yet the unfeeling man will not soften
his proposal by any euphemism, nor will he hide its
more odious features. He deliberately adds that the
children should be sent away with their mothers. The
nests are to be cleared of the whole brood.
Ezra had not ventured to draw out such a direful
programme. But Shecaniah says that this is "according
to the counsel of my lord,"Ezra x. 3.
using terms of unwonted
obsequiousness—unless, as seems less likely,
the phrase is meant to apply to God, i.e., to be read,
"According to the counsel of The Lord." Shecaniah
evidently gathered the unexpressed opinion of Ezra from
the language of his prayer and from his general
attitude. This was the only way out of the difficulty,
the logical conclusion from what was now admitted.
Ezra saw it clearly enough, but it wanted a man of
coarser fibre to say it. Shecaniah goes further, and
claims the concurrence of all who "tremble at the
words of the God of Israel." These people have been
mentioned before as forming the nucleus of the congregation
that gathered about Ezra.Ezra ix. 4.
Then this outspoken
man distinctly claims the authority of The Law for his
proposition. Ezra had based his view of the heathen
marriages on the general character of the teaching of
the prophets; Shecaniah now appeals to The Law
as the authority for his scheme of wholesale divorce.
This is a huge assumption of what has never been
demonstrated. But such people as Shecaniah do not
wait for niceties of proof before making their sweeping
proposals.
The bold adviser followed up his suggestion by rallying
Ezra and calling upon him to "be of good courage,"
seeing that he would have supporters in the great
reformation. Falling in with the proposed scheme,
Ezra there and then extracted an oath from the people—both
clergy and laity—that they would execute it.
This was a general resolution. Some time was required
and many difficulties had to be faced before it could
be carried into practice, and meanwhile Ezra withdrew
into retirement, still fasting and mourning.
We must now allow for an interval of some months.
The chronological arrangement seems to have been as
follows. Ezra and his company left Babylon in the
spring, as Zerubbabel had done before him—at the same
season as that of the great exodus from Egypt under
Moses. Each of these three great expeditions began
with the opening of the natural year, in scenes of bright
beauty and hopefulness. Occupying four months on
his journey, Ezra reached Jerusalem in the heat of
July. It could not have been very long after his arrival
that the news of the foreign marriages was brought to
him by the princes, because if he had spent any considerable
time in Jerusalem first he must have found out
the state of affairs for himself. But now we are transported
to the month of December for the meeting of
the people when the covenant of divorce is to be put
in force. Possibly some of the powerful leaders had
opposed the summoning of such a gathering, and their
hindrance may have delayed it; or it may have taken
Ezra and his counsellors some time to mature their
plans. Long brooding over the question could not
have lessened the scribe's estimate of its gravity. But
the suggestion of all kinds of difficulties and the clear
perception of the terrible results which must flow from
the contemplated reformation did not touch his opinion
of what was right, or his decision, once reached, that
there must be a clearing away of the foreign elements,
root and branch, although they had entwined their
tendrils about the deepest affections of the people. The
seclusion and mourning of Ezra is recorded in Ezra x. 6.
The next verse carries us on to the preparation for the
dreadful assembly, which, as we must conclude, really
took place some months later. The summons was backed
up by threats of confiscation and excommunication.
To this extent the great powers entrusted to Ezra by
the king of Persia were employed. It looks as if the
order was the issue of a conflict of counsels in which
that of Ezra was victorious, for it was exceedingly peremptory
in tone and it only gave three days notice.
The people came, as they were bound to do, for the
authority of the supreme government was behind the
summons; but they resented the haste with which they
had been called together, and they pleaded the inconvenience
of the season for an open-air meeting. They
met in the midst of the winter rains; cold and wet they
crouched in the temple courts, the picture of wretchedness.
In a hot, dry country so little provision is
made for inclement weather, that when it comes the
people suffer from it most acutely, so that it means
much more distress to them than to the inhabitants
of a chill and rainy climate. Still it may seem strange
that, with so terrible a question as the complete
break-up of their homes presented to them, the Jews
should have taken much account of the mere weather
even at its worst. History, however, does not shape
itself according to proportionate proprieties, but after the
course of very human facts. We are often unduly influenced
by present circumstances, so that what is small
in itself, and in comparison with the supreme interests
of life, may become for the moment of the most pressing
importance, just because it is present and making itself
felt as the nearest fact. Moreover, there is a sort of
magnetic connection between the external character of
things and the most intangible of internal experiences.
The "November gloom" is more than a meteorological
fact; it has its psychological aspect. After all, are we
not citizens of the great physical universe? and is it
not therefore reasonable that the various phases of
nature should affect us in some degree, so that the
common topic of conversation, "the weather," may really
be of more serious concern than we suspect? Be that
as it may, it is clear that while these Jews, who usually
enjoyed brilliant sunshine and the fair blue Syrian
sky, were shivering in the chill December rains, wet and
miserable, they were quite unable to discuss a great
social question, or to brace themselves up for an act of
supreme renunciation. It was a season of depression,
and the people felt limp and heartless, as people often
do feel at such a season. They pleaded for delay. Not
only was the weather a great hindrance to calm deliberation,
but, as they said, the proposed reformation was of
a widespread character. It must be an affair of some
time. Let it be regularly organised. Let it be conducted
only before appointed courts in the several cities.
This was reasonable enough, and accordingly it was
decided to adopt the suggestion. It is easy to be a
reformer in theory; but they who have faced a great
abuse in practice know how difficult it is to uproot it.
This is especially true of all attempts to affect the
social order. Wild ideas are floated without an effort.
But the execution of these ideas means far more toil
and battle, and involves a much greater tumult in the
world, than the airy dreamers who start them so confidently
and who are so surprised at the slowness of
dull people to accept them ever imagine.
Not only was there a successful plea for delay.
There was also direct opposition to Ezra's stern proposal—although
this did not prove to be successful. The
indication of opposition is obscured by the imperfect
rendering of the Authorised Version. Turning to the
more correct translation in the Revised Version we read,
"Only Jonathan the son of Asahel and Jahzeiah the
son of Tikvah stood up against this matter: and
Meshullam and Shabbethai the Levite helped them."Ezra x. 15.
Here was a little knot of champions of the poor threatened
wives, defenders of the peaceful homes so soon to
be smitten by the ruthless axe of the reformer, men who
believed in the sanctity of domestic life as not less real
than the sanctity of ecclesiastical arrangements, men
perhaps to whom love was as Divine as law, nay, was
law, wherever it was pure and true.
This opposition was borne down; the courts sat;
the divorces were granted; wives were torn from their
husbands and sent back to their indignant parents; and
children were orphaned. Priests, Levites, and other
temple officers did not escape the domestic reformation;
the common people were not beneath its searching
scrutiny; everywhere the pruning knife lopped off the
alien branches from the vine of Israel. After giving a
list of families involved, the chronicler concludes with
the bare remark that men put away wives with children
as well as those who had no children.Ezra x. 44.
It is baldly
stated. What did it mean? The agony of separation,
the lifelong division of the family, the wife worse than
widowed, the children driven from the shelter of the
home, the husband sitting desolate in his silent house—over
all this the chronicler draws a veil; but our
imaginations can picture such scenes as might furnish
materials for the most pathetic tragedies.
In order to mitigate the misery of this social revolution,
attention has been called to the freedom of divorce
which was allowed among the Jews and to the inferior
status assigned to women in the East. The wife, it is
said, was always prepared to receive a bill of divorce
whenever her husband found occasion to dismiss
her: she would have a right to claim back her
dowry; and she would return to her father's house
without the slightest slur upon her character. All
this may be true enough; and yet human nature is the
same all the world over, and where there is the strong
mutual affection of true wedded love, whether in the
England of our Christian era or in the Palestine of the
olden times, to sever the tie of union must mean the
agony of torn hearts, the despair of blighted lives. And
was this necessary? Even if it was not according to
the ordinance of their religion for Jews to contract
marriages with foreigners, having contracted such
marriages and having seen children grow up about
them, was it not a worse evil for them to break the
bonds by violence and scatter the families? Is not the
marriage law itself holy? Nay, has it not a prior
right over against Levitical institutions or prophetic
ordinances, seeing that it may be traced back to the
sweet sanctities of Eden? What if the stern reformer
had fallen into a dreadful blunder? Might it not be
that this new Hildebrand and his fanatical followers
were even guilty of a huge crime in their quixotic
attempt to purge the Church by wrecking the home?
Assuredly from our point of view and with our
Christian light no such conduct as theirs could be condoned.
It was utterly undiscriminating, riding roughshod
over the tenderest claims. Gentile wives such as
Ruth the Moabitess might have adopted the faith of
their husbands—doubtless in many cases they had
done so—yet the sweeping, pitiless mandate of separation
applied to them as surely as if they had been
heathen sorceresses. On the other hand, we must use
some historical imagination in estimating these sorrowful
scenes. The great idea of Ezra was to preserve a
separate people. He held that this was essential to the
maintenance of pure religion and morals in the midst
of the pagan abominations which surrounded the little
colony. Church separation seemed to be bound up with
race separation. This Ezra believed to be after the
mind of the prophets, and therefore a truth of Divine
inspiration. Under all the circumstances it is not easy
to say that his main contention was wrong, that Israel
could have been preserved as a Church if it had ceased
to keep itself separate as a race, or that without Church
exclusiveness religious purity could have been maintained.
We are not called upon to face any such terrible
problem, although St. Paul's warning against Christians
becoming "unequally yoked with unbelievers"Cor. vi. 14.
reminds
us that the worst ill-assortment in marriage
should not be thought of as only concerned with diversity
of rank, wealth, or culture; that they are most
ill-matched who have not common interests in the
deepest concerns of the soul. Then, too, it needs to be
remembered in these days, when ease and comfort are
unduly prized, that there are occasions on which even
the peace and love of the home must be sacrificed
to the supreme claims of God. Our Lord ominously
warned His disciples that He would send a sword to
sever the closest domestic ties—"to set a man at variance
against his father, and the daughter against her
mother," etc.,Matt. x. 35.
and He added, "He that loveth father
or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me."Matt. x. 37.
In
times of early Christian persecution it was necessary
to choose between the cross of Christ and the nearest
domestic claims, and then faithful martyrs accepted the
cross even at the cost of the dear love of home and all
its priceless jewels, as, for instance, in the familiar story
of Perpetua and Felicitas. The same choice had to
be made again under Catholic persecution among the
Huguenots, as we are reminded by Millais' well-known
picture, and even in a quasi-protestant persecution in
the case of Sir Thomas More. It faces the convert
from Hindooism in India to-day. Therefore whatever
opinion we may form of the particular action of
Ezra, we should do well to ponder gravely over the
grand principle on which it was based. God must have
the first place in the hearts and lives of His people,
even though in some cases this may involve the shipwreck
of the dearest earthly affections.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE COST OF AN IDEALIST'S SUCCESS.
Ezra iv. 6-23.
The fourth chapter of the Book of Ezra contains
an account of a correspondence between the
Samaritan colonists and two kings of Persia, which
follows sharply on the first mention of the intrigues of
"the enemies of Judah and Benjamin" at the Persian
court in the later days of Cyrus, and which precedes
the description of the fortunes of the Jews in the reign
of Darius. If this has its right chronological position in
the narrative, it must relate to the interval during which
temple-building was in abeyance. In that case the
two kings of Persia would be Cambyses, the son and
successor of Cyrus, and Pseudo-Bardes. But the names
in the text are Ahasuerus (Ahashverosh) and Artaxerxes
(Artahshashta). It has been suggested that these are
second names for the predecessors of Darius. Undoubtedly
it was customary for Persian monarchs to
have more than one name. But elsewhere in the
Biblical narratives these two names are invariably applied
to the successors of Darius—the first standing for
the well-known Xerxes and the second for Artaxerxes
Longimanus. The presumption therefore is that the
same kings are designated by them here. Moreover,
when we examine the account of the correspondence
with the Persian court, we find that this agrees best with
the later period. The opening verses of the fourth
chapter of Ezra deal with the building of the temple;
the last verse of that chapter and the succeeding
narrative of the fifth chapter resume the same topic.
But the correspondence relates to the building of the
walls of the city. There is not a word about any such
work in the context. Then in the letter addressed to
Artaxerxes the writers describe the builders of the walls
as "the Jews which came up from thee."Ezra iv. 12.
This description
would not fit Zerubbabel and his followers, who
migrated under Cyrus. But it would apply to those
who accompanied Ezra to Jerusalem in the reign of
Artaxerxes. Lastly, the reign of Pseudo-Bardes is too
brief for all that would have to be crowded into it.
It only occupied seven months. Yet a letter is sent up
from the enemies of the Jews; inquiry is made into
the history of Jerusalem by Persian officials at the
court; a reply based on this inquiry is transmitted to
Palestine; in consequence of this reply an expedition is
organised which effectually stops the works at Jerusalem,
but only after the exercise of force on the spot. It is
nearly impossible for all this to have happened in so
short a time as seven months. All the indications
therefore concur to assign the correspondence to the
later period.
The chronicler must have inserted this section out of
its order for some reason of his own. Probably he desired
to accentuate the impression of the malignant and
persistent enmity of the colonists, and with this end
in view described the later acts of antagonism directly
after mentioning the first outbreak of opposition. It
is just possible that he perceived the unfavourable
character of his picture of the Jews in their curt refusal
of assistance from their neighbours, and that he desired
to balance this by an accumulation of weighty indictments
against the people whom the Jews had treated
so ungraciously.
In his account of the correspondence with the Persian
court the chronicler seems to have taken note of three
separate letters from the unfriendly colonists. First,
he tells us that in the beginning of the reign of
Ahasuerus they wrote an accusation against the Jews.Ezra iv. 6.
This was before the mission of Ezra; therefore it was
a continuance of the old opposition that had been seen
in the intrigues that preceded the reign of Darius;
it shows that after the death of that friendly monarch
the slumbering fires broke out afresh. Next, he names
certain men who wrote to Artaxerxes, and he adds that
their letter was translated and written in the Aramaic
language—the language which was the common medium
of intercourse in trade and official affairs among the
mixed races inhabiting Syria and all the regions west
of the Euphrates.Ezra iv. 7.
The reference to this language
probably arises from the fact that the chronicler had
seen a copy of the translation. He does not tell us
anything either of the nationality of the writers or of
the subject of their letter. It has been suggested that
they were Jews in Jerusalem who wrote to plead their
cause with the Persian king. The fact that two of
them bore Persian names—viz., Bishlam and Mithredath—does
not present a serious difficulty to this view, as
we know that some Jews received such names, Zerubbabel,
for example, being named Sheshbazzar. But as
the previous passage refers to an accusation against the
Jews, and as the following sentences give an account
of a letter also written by the inimical colonists, it is
scarcely likely that the intermediate colourless verse
which mentions the letter of Bishlam and his companions
is of a different character. We should expect
some more explicit statement if that were the case.
Moreover, it is most improbable that the passage which
follows would begin abruptly without an adversative
conjunction—as is the case—if it proceeded to describe
a letter provoked by opposition to another letter just
mentioned. Therefore we must regard Bishlam and
his companions as enemies of the Jews. Now some
who have accepted this view have maintained that the
letter of Bishlam and his friends is no other than the
letter ascribed to Rehum and Shimshai in the following
verses. It is stated that the former letter was in the
Aramaic language, and the letter which is ascribed to
the two great officials is in that language. But the
distinct statement that each group of men wrote a letter
seems to imply that there were two letters written in the
reign of Artaxerxes, or three in all.
The third letter is the only one that the chronicler
has preserved. He gives it in the Aramaic language,
and from Ezra iv. 8, where this is introduced, to vi. 18,
his narrative proceeds in that language, probably
because he found his materials in some Aramaic
document.
Some have assigned this letter to the period of the
reign of Artaxerxes prior to the mission of Ezra. But
there are two reasons for thinking it must have been
written after that mission. The first has been already
referred to—viz., that the complaint about "the Jews
which came up from thee" points to some large migration
during the reign of Artaxerxes, which must be
Ezra's expedition. The second reason arises from a
comparison of the results of the correspondence with
the description of Jerusalem in the opening of the Book
of Nehemiah. The violence of the Samaritans recorded
in Ezra iv. 23 will account for the deplorable state of
Jerusalem mentioned in Nehemiah i. 3, the effects of
the invasion referred to in the former passage agreeing
well with the condition of the dismantled city reported
to Nehemiah. But in the history of Ezra's expedition
no reference is made to any such miserable state of
affairs. Thus the correspondence must be assigned to
the time between the close of "Ezra" and the beginning
of "Nehemiah."
It is to Ezra's company, then, that the correspondence
with Artaxerxes refers. There were two parties in
Jerusalem, and the opposition was against the active
reforming party, which now had the upper hand in the
city. Immediately we consider this, the cause of the
continuance and increase of the antagonism of the
colonists becomes apparent. Ezra's harsh reformation
in the expulsion of foreign wives must have struck
the divorced women as a cruel and insulting outrage.
Driven back to their paternal homes with their burning
wrongs, these poor women must have roused the utmost
indignation among their people. Thus the reformer
had stirred up a hornets' nest. The legislator who
ventures to interfere with the sacred privacy of domestic
life excites the deepest passions, and a wise man will
think twice before he meddles in so dangerous a business.
Only the most imperative requirements of religion
and righteousness can justify such a course, and even
when it is justified nobody can foresee how far the
trouble it brings may spread.
The letter which the chronicler transcribes seems
to have been the most important of the three. It was
written by two great Persian officials. In our English
versions the first of these is called "the chancellor," and
the second "the scribe". "The chancellor" was probably
the governor of a large district, of which Palestine
was but a provincial section; and "the scribe" his
secretary. Accordingly it is apparent that the persistent
enmity of the colonists, their misrepresentations,
and perhaps their bribes, had resulted in instigating
opposition to the Jews in very high places. The action
of the Jews themselves may have excited suspicion in
the mind of the Persian Satrap, for it would seem from
his letter that they had just commenced to fortify their
city. The names of the various peoples who are
associated with these two great men in the title of the
letter also show how far the opposition to the Jews had
spread. They are given as the peoples whom Osnappar
(Esar-bani-pal) had brought over and set in the city of
Samaria, "and in the rest of the country beyond the river."Ezra iv. 10.
That is to say, the settlers in the vast district west of
the Euphrates are included. Here were Apharsathchites—who
cannot be the Persians, as some have thought,
because no Assyrian king ever seems to have penetrated
to Persia, but may be the Parætaceni of
Herodotus,Herodotus, i. 101.
a Median people; Tarpelites—probably
the people named among the Hebrews after Tubal;Gen. x. 2.
Apharsites—also wrongly identified by some with the
Persians, but probably another Median people; Archevites,
from the ancient Erech (Uruk);Gen. x. 10.
Babylonians, not
only from the city of Babylon, but also from its neighbourhood;
Shushanchites, from Shusan (Susa), the capital
of Susiana; Dehaites—possibly the Dai of Herodotus,Herodotus, i. 125.
because, though these were Persians, they were nomads
who may have wandered far; Elamites, from the
country of which Susa was capital. A terrific array!
The very names would be imposing. All these people
were now united in a common bond of enmity to the
Jews of Jerusalem. Anticipating the fate of the
Christians in the Roman Empire, though on very
different grounds, the Jews seem to have been regarded
by the peoples of Western Asia with positive antipathy
as enemies of the human race. Their anti-social conduct
had alienated all who knew them. But the letter of
indictment brought a false charge against them. The
opponents of the Jews could not formulate any charge
out of their real grievances sufficiently grave to secure
an adverse verdict from the supreme authority. They
therefore trumped up an accusation of treason. It was
untrue, for the Jews at Jerusalem had always been the
most peaceable and loyal subjects of the Great King.
The search which was made into the previous history
of the city could only have brought to light any evidence
of a spirit of independence as far back as the
time of the Babylonian invasions. Still this was
enough to supplement the calumnies of the irritated
opponents which the Satrap and his secretary had been
persuaded to echo with all the authority of their high
position. Moreover, Egypt was now in revolt, and the
king may have been persuaded to suspect the Jews
of sympathy with the rebels. So Jerusalem was condemned
as a "bad city"; the Persian officials went
up and forcibly stopped the building of the walls,
and the Jews were reduced to a condition of helpless
misery.
This was the issue of Ezra's reformation. Can we
call it a success? The answer to such a question will
depend on what kind of success we may be looking for.
Politically, socially, regarded from the standpoint of
material profit and loss, there was nothing but the
most dismal failure. But Ezra was not a statesman;
he did not aim at national greatness, nor did he aim
even at social amelioration. In our own day, when
social improvements are regarded by many as the chief
ends of government and philanthropy, it is difficult to
sympathise with conduct which ran counter to the
home comforts and commercial prosperity of the people.
A policy which deliberately wrecked these obviously
attractive objects of life in pursuit of entirely different
aims is so completely remote from modern habits of
thought and conduct that we have to make a considerable
effort of imagination if we would understand the
man who promoted it. How are we to picture him?
Ezra was an idealist. Now the success of an idealist
is not to be sought for in material prosperity. He
lives for his idea. If this idea triumphs he is satisfied,
because he has attained the one kind of success he
aimed at. He is not rich; but he never sowed the seed
of wealth. He may never be honoured: he has determined
to set himself against the current of popular
fashion; how then can he expect popular favour?
Possibly he may meet with misapprehension, contempt,
hatred, death. The greatest Idealist the world ever
saw was excommunicated as a heretic; insulted by
His opponents, and deserted by most of His friends;
tortured and crucified. The best of His disciples, those
who had caught the enthusiasm of His idea, were
treated as the offscouring of the earth. Yet we now
recognise that the grandest victory ever achieved was
won at Calvary; and we now regard the travels of
St. Paul through stoning and scourging, through
Jewish hatred and Christian jealousy, on to the block,
as nothing less than a magnificent triumphant march.
The idealist succeeds when his idea is established.
Judged by this standard—the only fair standard—Ezra's
work cannot be pronounced a failure. On the
contrary, he accomplished just what he aimed at. He
established the separateness of the Jews. Among ourselves,
more than two thousand years after his time,
his great idea is still the most marked feature of his
people. All along the ages it has provoked jealousy
and suspicion; and often it has been met by cruel persecution.
The separate people have been treated as
only too separate from the rest of mankind. Thus the
history of the Jews has become one long tragedy. It is
infinitely sad. Yet it is incomparably more noble than
the hollow comedy of existence to which the absence
of all aims apart from personal pleasure reduces the
story of those people who have sunk so low that they
have no ideas. Moreover, with Ezra the racial idea
was really subordinate to the religious idea. To secure
the worship of God, free from all contamination—this
was his ultimate purpose. In accomplishing it he must
have a devoted people also free from contamination, a
priesthood still more separate and consecrated, and a
ritual carefully guarded and protected from defilement.
Hence arose his great work in publishing the authoritative
codified scriptures of the Jews. To a Christian
all this has its defects—formalism, externalism, needless
narrowness. Yet it succeeded in saving the religion of
the Jews, and in transmitting that religion to future
ages as a precious casket containing the seed of the
great spiritual faith for which the world was waiting.
There is something of the schoolmaster in Ezra; but
he is like the law he loved so devoutly—a schoolmaster
who brings us to Christ. He was needed both for his
times and also in order to lay the foundation of coming
ages. Who shall say that such a man was not sent of
God? How can we deny to his unique work the inspiration
of the Holy Spirit? The harshness of its
outward features must not blind us to the sublimity
of its inner thought or the beneficence of its ultimate
purpose.
CHAPTER XV.
NEHEMIAH THE PATRIOT.
Nehemiah i. 1-3.
The Book of Nehemiah is the last part of the
chronicler's narrative. Although it was not
originally a separate work, we can easily see why the
editor, who broke up the original volume into distinct
books, divided it just where he did. An interval of
twelve or thirteen years comes between Ezra's reformation
and the events recorded in the opening of "Nehemiah."
Still a much longer period was passed over in
silence in the middle of "Ezra."At Ezra vii. 1.
A more important
reason for the division of the narrative may be found
in the introduction of a new character. The book
which now bears his name is largely devoted to the
actions of Nehemiah; and it commences with an autobiographical
narrative, which occupies the first six
chapters and part of the seventh.
Nehemiah plunges suddenly into his story, without
giving us any hints of his previous history. His
father, Hacaliah, is only a name to us. It was necessary
to state this name in order to distinguish the
writer from other men named Nehemiah.E.g., the Nehemiah of Ezra ii. 2, who is certainly another person.
There is
no reason to think that his privileged position at court
indicates high family connections. The conjecture of
Ewald that he owed his important and lucrative office
to his personal beauty and youthful attractions is
enough to account for it. His appointment to the
office formerly held by Zerubbabel is no proof that he
belonged to the Jewish royal family. At the despotic
Persian court the king's kindness towards a favourite
servant would override all claims of princely rank.
Besides, it is most improbable that we should have no
hint of the Davidic descent if this had been one ground
of the appointment. Eusebius and Jerome both
describe Nehemiah as of the tribe of Judah. Jerome
is notoriously inaccurate; Eusebius is a cautious historian,
but it is not likely that in his late age—as long
after Nehemiah as our age is after Thomas à Becket—he
could have any trustworthy evidence beyond that of
the Scriptures. The statement that the city of Jerusalem
was the place of the sepulchres of his ancestorsNeh. ii. 3.
lends
some plausibility to the suggestion that Nehemiah
belonged to the tribe of Judah. With this we must be
content.
It is more to the point to notice that, like Ezra, the
younger man, whose practical energy and high authority
were to further the reforms of the somewhat doctrinaire
scribe, was a Jew of the exile. Once more it is in the
East, far away from Jerusalem, that the impulse is found
for furthering the cause of the Jews. Thus we are
again reminded that wave after wave sweeps up from
the Babylonian plains to give life and strength to the
religious and civic restoration.
The peculiar circumstances of Nehemiah deepen our
interest in his patriotic and religious work. In his
case it was not the hardships of captivity that fostered
the aspirations of the spiritual life, for he was in a
position of personal ease and prosperity. We can
scarcely think of a lot less likely to encourage the principles
of patriotism and religion than that of a favourite
upper servant in a foreign, heathen court. The office
held by Nehemiah was not one of political rank. He
was a palace slave, not a minister of state like Joseph
or Daniel. But among the household servants he
would take a high position. The cup-bearers had a
special privilege of admission to the august presence
of their sovereign in his most private seclusion. The
king's life was in their hands; and the wealthy enemies
of a despotic sovereign would be ready enough to bribe
them to poison the king, if only they proved to be corruptible.
The requirement that they should first pour
some wine into their own hands, and drink the sample
before the King, is an indication that fear of treachery
haunted the mind of an Oriental monarch, as it does the
mind of a Russian czar to-day. Even with this rough
safeguard it was necessary to select men who could
be relied upon. Thus the cup-bearers would become
"favourites." At all events, it is plain that Nehemiah
was regarded with peculiar favour by the king he
served. No doubt he was a faithful servant, and his
fidelity in his position of trust at court was a guarantee
of similar fidelity in a more responsible and far more
trying office.
Nehemiah opens his story by telling us that he was
in "the palace,"Neh. i. 1.
or rather "the fortress," at Susa, the
winter abode of the Persian monarchs—an Elamite city,
the stupendous remains of which astonish the traveller
in the present day—eighty miles east of the Tigris and
within sight of the Bakhtiyari Mountains. Here was
the great nail of audience, the counterpart of another
at Persepolis. These two were perhaps the largest
rooms in the ancient world next to that at Karnak.
Thirty-six fluted columns, distributed as six rows
of six columns each, slender and widely spaced,
supported a roof extending two hundred feet each
way. The month Chislev, in which the occurrence
Nehemiah proceeds to relate happened, corresponds to
parts of our November and December. The name is an
Assyrian and Babylonian one, and so are all the names
of the months used by the Jews. Further, Nehemiah
speaks of what he here narrates as happening in the
twentieth year of Artaxerxes, and in the next chapter
he mentions a subsequent event as occurring in the
month NisanNeh. ii. 1.
in the same year. This shows that he
did not reckon the year to begin at Nisan, as the Jews
were accustomed to reckon it. He must have followed
the general Asiatic custom, which begins the year in
the autumn, or else he must have regulated his dates
according to the time of the king's accession. In either
case we see how thoroughly un-Jewish the setting of
his narrative is—unless a third explanation is adopted,
viz., that the Jewish year, beginning in the spring, only
counts from the adoption of Ezra's edition of The Law.
Be this as it may, other indications of Orientalism,
derived from his court surroundings, will attract our
attention in our consideration of his language later on.
No writer of the Bible reflects the influence of alien
culture more clearly than Nehemiah. Outwardly, he is
the most foreign Jew we meet with in Scripture. Yet
in his and character he is the very ideal of a Jewish
patriot. His patriotism shines all the more splendidly
because it bursts out of a foreign environment. Thus
Nehemiah shows how little his dialect and the manners
he exhibits can be taken as the gauge of a man's true
life.
Nehemiah states that, while he was thus at Susa, in
winter residence with the court, one of his brethren,
named Hanani, together with certain men of Judah,
came to him.Neh. i. 2.
The language here used will admit of
our regarding Hanani as only a more or less distant
relative of the cup-bearer; but a later reference to him
at Jerusalem as "my brother Hanani"Neh. vii. 2.
shows that his
own brother is meant.
Josephus has an especially graphic account of the
incident. We have no means of discovering whether
he drew it from an authentic source, but its picturesqueness
may justify the insertion of it here: "Now there
was one of those Jews who had been carried captive,
who was cup-bearer to King Xerxes; his name was
Nehemiah. As this man was walking before Susa,
the metropolis of the Persians, he heard some strangers
that were entering the city, after a long journey, speaking
to one another in the Hebrew tongue; so he went
to them and asked from whence they came; and when
their answer was, that they came from Judæa, he began
to inquire of them again in what state the multitude
was, and in what condition Jerusalem was: and when
they replied that they were in a bad state, for that
their walls were thrown down to the ground, and that
the neighbouring nations did a great deal of mischief
to the Jews, while in the day-time they over-ran the
country and pillaged it, and in the night did them mischief,
insomuch that not a few were led away captive
out of the country, and out of Jerusalem itself, and that
the roads were in the day-time found full of dead men.
Hereupon Nehemiah shed tears, out of commiseration
of the calamities of his countrymen; and, looking up to
heaven, he said, 'How long, O Lord, wilt thou overlook
our nation, while it suffers so great miseries, and while
we are made the prey and the spoil of all men?' And
while he staid at the gate, and lamented thus, one told
him that the king was going to sit down to supper; so
he made haste, and went as he was, without washing
himself, to minister to the king in his office of
cup-bearer," etc.Josephus, Ant., XI. v. 6.
Evidently Nehemiah was expressly sought out. His
influence would naturally be valued. There was a
large Jewish community at Susa, and Nehemiah must
have enjoyed a good reputation among his people;
otherwise it would have been vain for the travellers to
obtain an interview with him. The eyes of these Jews
were turned to the royal servant as the fellow-countryman
of greatest influence at court. But Nehemiah
anticipated their message and relieved them of all
difficulty by questioning them about the city of their
fathers. Jerusalem was hundreds of miles away across
the desert; no regular methods of communication kept
the Babylonian colony informed of the condition of the
advance guard at the ancient capital; therefore scraps
of news brought by chance travellers were eagerly
devoured by those who were anxious for the rare
information. Plainly Nehemiah shared this anxiety.
His question was quite spontaneous, and it suggests that
amid the distractions of his court life his thoughts had
often reverted to the ancient home of his people. If
he had not been truly patriotic, he could have used
some device, which his palace experience would have
readily suggested, so as to divert the course of this
conversation with a group of simple men from the
country, and keep the painful subject in the background.
He must have seen clearly that for one in his
position of influence to make inquiries about a poor
and distressed community was to raise expectations of
assistance. But his questions were earnest and eager,
because his interest was genuine.
The answers to Nehemiah's inquiries struck him
with surprise as well as grief. The shock with which
he received them reminds us of Ezra's startled horror
when the lax practices of the Jewish leaders were
reported to him, although the trained court official did
not display the abandonment of emotion which was
seen in the student suddenly plunged into the vortex of
public life and unprepared for one of those dread surprises
which men of the world drill themselves to face
with comparative calmness.
We must now examine the news that surprised and
distressed Nehemiah. His brother and the other
travellers from Jerusalem inform him that the descendants
of the returned captives, the residents of Jerusalem,
"are in great affliction and reproach"; and also that
the city walls have been broken down and the gates
burnt. The description of the defenceless and dishonoured
state of the city is what most strikes Nehemiah.
Now the question is to what calamities does this report
refer? According to the usual understanding, it is a
description of the state of Jerusalem which resulted
from the sieges of Nebuchadnezzar. But there are
serious difficulties in the way of this view. Nehemiah
must have known all about the tremendous events, one
of the results of which was seen in the very existence
of the Jewish colony of which he was a member. The
inevitable consequences of that notorious disaster could
not have come before him unexpectedly and as startling
news. Besides, the present distress of the inhabitants
is closely associated with the account of the ruin of the
defences, and is even mentioned first. Is it possible
that one sentence should include what was happening
now, and what took place a century earner, in a
single picture of the city's misery? The language
seems to point to the action of breaking through me
walls rather than to such a general demolition of them
as took place when the whole city was razed to the
ground by the Babylonian invaders. Lastly, the action
of Nehemiah cannot be accounted for on this hypothesis.
He is plunged into grief by the dreadful news, and at
first he can only mourn and fast and pray. But before
long, as soon as he obtains permission from his royal
master, he sets out for Jerusalem, and there his first
great work is to restore the ruined walls. The connection
of events shows that it is the information
brought to him by Hanani and the other Jews from
Jerusalem that rouses him to proceed to the city. All
this points to some very recent troubles, which were
previously unknown to Nehemiah. Can we find any
indication of those troubles elsewhere?
The opening scene in the patriotic career of Nehemiah
exactly fit in with the events which came under our
consideration in the previous chapter. There we saw
that the opposition to the Jews which is recorded as
early as Ezra iv., but attributed to the reign of an
"Artaxerxes," must have been carried into effect under
Artaxerxes Longimanus—Nehemiah's master. This
must have been subsequent to the mission of Ezra in
the seventh year of Artaxerxes, as Ezra makes no
mention of its distressful consequences. The news
reached Nehemiah in the twentieth year of the same
reign. Therefore the mischief must have been wrought
some time during the intervening thirteen years. We
have no history of that period. But the glimpse of its
most gloomy experiences afforded by the detached paragraph
in Ezra iv. exactly fits in with the description of
the resulting condition of Jerusalem in the Book of
Nehemiah. This will fully account for Nehemiah's
surprise and grief; it will also throw a flood of light on
his character and subsequent action. If he had only
been roused to repair the ravages of the old Babylonian
invasions, there would have been nothing very courageous
in his undertaking. Babylon itself had been overthrown,
and the enemy of Babylon was now in power.
Anything tending to obliterate the destructive glory of
the old fallen empire might be accepted with favour by
the Persian ruler. But the case is quite altered when
we think of the more recent events. The very work
Nehemiah was to undertake had been attempted but
a few years before, and it had failed miserably. The
rebuilding of the walls had then excited the jealousy of
neighbouring peoples, and their gross misrepresentations
had resulted in an official prohibition of the work. This
prohibition, however, had only been executed by acts
of violence, sanctioned by the government. Worse
than all else, it was from the very Artaxerxes whom
Nehemiah served that the sanction had been obtained.
He was an easy-going sovereign, readily accessible to
the advice of his ministers; in the earlier part of his
reign he showed remarkable favour towards the Jews,
when he equipped and despatched Ezra on his great
expedition, and it is likely enough that in the pressure
of his multitudinous affairs the King would soon forgot
his unfavourable despatch. Nevertheless he was an
absolute monarch, and the lives of his subjects were in his
hands. For a personal attendant of such a sovereign
to show sympathy with a city that had come under
his disapproval was a very risky thing. Nehemiah
may have felt this while he was hiding his grief from
Artaxerxes. But if so, his frank confession at the first
opportunity reflects all the more credit on his patriotism
and the courage with which he supported it.
Patriotism is the most prominent principle in
Nehemiah's conduct. Deeper considerations emerge
later, especially after he has come under the influence
of an enthusiastic religious teacher in the person of
Ezra. But at first it is the city of his fathers that
moves his heart. He is particularly distressed at its
desolate condition, because the burial-place of is
ancestors is there. The great anxiety of the Jews
about the bodies of their dead, and their horror of
the exposure of a corpse, made them look with peculiar
concern on the tombs of their people. In sharing the
sentiments that spring out of the habits of his people
in this respect, Nehemiah gives a specific turn to his
patriotism. He longs to guard and honour the last
resting-place of his people; he would hear of any
outrage on the city where their sepulchres are with the
greatest distress. Thus filial piety mingles with patriotism,
and the patriotism itself is localised, like that of
the Greeks, and directed to the interests of a single
city. Nehemiah here represents a different attitude
from that of Mordecai. It is not the Jew that he
thinks of in the first instance, but Jerusalem; and
Jerusalem is dear to him primarily, not because of his
kinsmen who are living there, but because it is the city
of his fathers' sepulchres, the city of the great past.
Still the strongest feelings are always personal.
Patriotism loves the very soil of the fatherland; but
the depth and strength of the passion spring from
association with an affection for the people that inhabit
it. Without this patriotism degenerates into a flimsy
sentiment. At Jerusalem Nehemiah develops a deep
personal interest in the citizens. Even on the Susa
acropolis, where the very names of these people are
unknown to him, the thought of his ancestry gives a
sanctity to the far-off city. Such a thought is enlarging
and purifying. It lifts a man out of petty personal
concerns; it gives him unselfish sympathies; it prepares
demands for sacrifice and service. Thus, while
the mock patriotism which cares only for glory and
national aggrandisement is nothing but a vulgar product
of enlarged selfishness, the true patriotism that awakens
large human sympathies is profoundly unselfish, and
shows itself to be a part of the very religion of a
devoted man.
CHAPTER XVI.
NEHEMIAH'S PRAYER.
Nehemiah i. 4-11.
Nehemiah records the twofold effect of the melancholy
news which his brother and the other
travellers from Jerusalem brought him. Its first consequence
was grief; its second prayer. The grief was
expressed in the dramatic style of the Oriental by
weeping, lamentations, fasting, and other significant
acts and attitudes which the patriot kept up for some
days. Demonstrative as all this appears to us, it was
calm and restrained in comparison with Ezra's frantic
outburst. Still it was the sign and fruit of heartfelt
distress, for Nehemiah was really and deeply moved.
Had the incident ended here, we should have seen a
picture of patriotic sentiment, such as might be looked
for in any loyal Jew, although the position of Nehemiah
at court would have proved him loyal under exceptional
circumstances. But the prayer which is the outcome of
the soul-stirring thoughts and feelings of devout patriotism
lifts the scene into a much higher interest. This
prayer is singularly penetrating, revealing a keen
insight into the secret of the calamities of Israel, and
an exact perception of the relation of God to those
calamities. It shows a knowledge of what we may call
the theology of history, of the Divine laws and principles
which are above and behind the laws and principles indicated
by the expression "the philosophy of history."
In form it is a combination of three elements,—the
language of devotion cultivated by Persian sages; expressions
culled from the venerated Hebrew law-book,
Deuteronomy; and new phrases called out by the new
needs of the immediate occasion. Nehemiah shows
how natural it is for a person to fall into an accepted
dialect of worship, even in an original prayer the end
of which is novel and special.
He opens his prayer with an expression that seems
to be more Persian than Jewish. He does not make
his appeal to Jehovah as the "God of Abraham, Isaac,
and Jacob," but after the sacred name he adds the
descriptive title "God of heaven." This is quite a
favourite phrase of Nehemiah's. Thus in describing
his interview with Artaxerxes he says, "So I prayed to
the God of heaven";Neh. ii. 4.
and at Jerusalem he answers
the mockery of his opponents by exclaiming, "The
God of heaven, He will prosper us."Neh. ii. 20.
Now the same
expression is found repeatedly in the chronicler's
version of royal edicts—in the edict of Cyrus,Ezra i. 2.
in the
edict of Darius,Ezra vi. 10.
in the edict of Artaxerxes.Ezra vii. 12, 21, 23.
If it is
indeed of Persian origin, the use of it by Nehemiah is
most significant. In this case, while it indicates the
speaker's unconscious adoption of the language of his
neighbours and shows him to be a Jew of Oriental
culture, it also illustrates a far-reaching process of
Providence. Here is an exalted name for God, the
origin of which is apparently Gentile, accepted and
used by a devout Jew, and through his employment
of it passing over into the Scriptures,It is used by the chronicler, and it is found in Jonah and Daniel,
and once even in our recension of Genesis (Gen. xxiv. 7).
so that the
religion of Israel is enriched by a phrase from abroad.
It would be but a poor championship of the truth of
the Hebrew revelation that would lead us to close our
eyes to whatever of good is to be found outside its
borders. Certainly we honour God by gladly perceiving
that He has not left Himself entirely without
witness in the dim-lit temple of Pagan thought. It is
a ground for rejoicing that, while the science of Comparative
Religion has not touched the unique pre-eminence
of the Hebrew and Christian Faith, that science
has been able to recover scattered pearls of truth that
lay strewn over the waste of the world's wide thinking.
If in a few rare cases some such gems had been found
earlier and even set in the crown of Israel, we can only
be thankful that the One Spirit who is the source of all
revelation has thus evinced the breadth of His activity.
Nor should it disturb our faith if it could be proved
that more important elements of our religion did not
originate among the Jews, but came from Babylonian,
Persian, or Greek sources; for why should not God
speak through a Gentile if He chooses so to do? This
is not a point of dogma. It is simply a question of fact
to be determined by historical inquiry.
We cannot say for certain, however, that Nehemiah's
phrase was coined in a Persian mint. Its novelty, its
absence from earlier Hebrew literature, and its repeated
appearance in the edicts of Persian kings favour the
notion. But we know that before reaching us these
edicts have been more or less translated into Hebrew
forms of thought, so that the phrase may possibly be
Jewish after all. Still even in that case it seems clear
that it must have been first used in the East and under
the Persian rule. The widening of his horizon and the
elevation of his idea of Providence which resulted from
the experience of the exile helped to enlarge and exalt
the Jew's whole conception of God. Jehovah could no
longer be thought of as a tribal divinity. The greater
prophets had escaped from any such primitive notion
much earlier, but not the bulk of the nation. Now
the exiles saw that the domain of their God could
not be limited to the hills and valleys of Palestine.
They perceived how His arm reached from the river
to the ends of the earth; how His might was everywhere
supreme, directing the history of empires,
overthrowing great monarchies, establishing new
world-powers.
A more subtle movement of thought has been
detected in the appearance of this suggestive phrase,
"God of heaven." The idea of the transcendence of
God is seen to be growing in the mind of the Jew.
God appears to be receding into remote celestial regions—His
greatness including distance. As yet this is
only vaguely felt; but here we have the beginning of
a characteristic of Judaism which becomes more and
more marked in course of time, until it seems as though
God were cut off from all direct connection with men
on earth, and only administering the world through a
whole army of intermediaries, the angels.
After this phrase with the Persian flavour, Nehemiah
adds expressions borrowed from the Hebrew Book of
Deuteronomy, a book with ideas and words from which
his prayer is saturated throughout. God is described
on the one hand as "great and terrible." and on the
other hand as keeping "covenant and mercy for them
that love Him and observe His commandments."Neh. i. 5. See Deut. vii. 9.
The
Deuteronomist adds "to a thousand generations"—a
clause not needed by Nehemiah, who is now only
concerned with one special occasion. The first part of
the description is in harmony with the new and exalted
title of God, and therefore it fits in well here. It is
also suitable for the circumstances of the prayer, because
in times of calamity we are impressed with the
power and terror of Providence. There is another side
to these attributes, however. The mention of them
suggests that the sufferers have not fallen into the hand
of man. Hanani and his fellow-Jews made no allusion
to a Divine action; they could not see beyond the
jealousy of neighbouring people in the whole course of
events. But Nehemiah at once recognised God's hand.
This perception would calm him as he watched the
solemn movement of the drama carried up into heavenly
regions. Then, aided by the cheering thought which
came to him from the book of Divine revelation on
which his prayer was moulded, Nehemiah turns to the
covenant-keeping mercy of God. The covenant which
he appeals to here must be that of the Book of Deuteronomy;
his subsequent references to the contents of
that book make this quite clear.
It is important to see that Nehemiah recognises the
relation of God's mercy to His covenant. He perceives
that the two go together, that the covenant does not
dispense with the need of mercy any more than it forecloses
the action of mercy. When the covenant people
fall into sin, they cannot claim forgiveness as a right;
nor can they ever demand deliverance from trouble
on the ground of their pact with God. God does
not bargain with His children. A Divine covenant is
not a business arrangement, the terms of which can
be interpreted like those of a deed of partnership, and
put into force by the determinate will of either party.
The covenant is, from the first, a gracious Divine promise
and dispensation, conditioned by certain requirements
to be observed on man's side. Its very existence
is a fruit of God's mercy, not an outcome of man's
haggling, and its operation is just through the continuance
of that mercy. It is true a promise, a sort of
pledge, goes with the covenant; but that is a promise
of mercy, a pledge of grace. It does not dispense with
the mercy of God by converting what would otherwise
be an act of pure grace on His part into a right which
we possess and act upon of our own sole will. What
it does is to afford a channel for the mercy of God, and
to assure us of His mercy, which, however, remains
mercy throughout.
From another point of view the covenant and the
mercy go together. The mercy follows the covenant.
The expression "the uncovenanted mercies of God"
has been used in bitter irony, as though any hope that
depended on such mercies was poor indeed, a bare
refuge of despair. But so to treat the unknown goodness
of God is to discredit that "ceaseless, unexhausted
love" which has given us the latest and highest and
best name of God. We do not know how far the vast
ocean of the lovingkindness of God extends. On the
other hand, certain definite assurances of mercy are
given along the lines of a covenant. Therefore it is
clearly wise and right for people who possess the
covenant to follow those lines. Other people who are
outside the covenant may meet with wonderful surprises
in the infinite Fatherhood of God; but those of
His children who are in the home must expect to be
treated according to the established order of the house.
No doubt they too will have their grand surprises of
Divine grace, for God does not tie Himself to forms and
rules at home while He exercises liberty abroad. To
do so would be to make the home a prison. But still
His revelation of methods of grace is a clear indication
that it is our duty to observe those methods, and that
we have no ground of complaint if we do not receive
the grace we seek when we wilfully neglect them.
Here then we see the necessity of studying the revelation
of the will and mind of God. That prayer has
most ground of hope in it which keeps nearest to the
thought and spirit of Scripture.
The terms of the covenant quoted by Nehemiah
require obedience on the part of those who would
receive mercy under it, and this obedience is needed in
those who are seeking restoration and forgiveness as
well as in those who have not fallen from the covenant
throughout. The reference to "mercy" makes that
clear. The penitent submits, and in the surrender of
his will he is made the recipient of the Divine mercy.
But behind the obedience is the spirit of love that
prompts it. The mercy is for them that love God and
observe His commandments. Love is the fulfilling of the
law from the first. It is expected in the Old Testament
as well as in the New; it is prescribed by the Deuteronomist
as decidedly as by St. John, for it is the only
ground of real obedience. The slavish terror of the
lash which squeezes out a reluctant utterance of submission
will not open the door for the mercy of God.
The Divine covenant secures mercy only for those who
return to their allegiance in a spirit of love.
Having thus set forth the grounds of his prayer in
his address to God and his plea of the covenant, Nehemiah
proceeds to invoke the Divine attention to his
petition. There is an echo of the courtier, perhaps, in
his request that God's ear should be attentive and His
eyes open;Neh. i. 6.
but his whole conduct forbids the idea
of servile obsequiousness. His prayer, he here says,
is offered "day and night"; so his report of it may be
regarded as a sort of final summing up of a long,
persevering succession of prayers. The unwearying
persistence of the man reveals two favourable features
in his character—his earnestness of purpose and his
unflagging faith. Our Lord denounces "vain repetitions"Matt. vi. 7.
—i.e.,
repetitions the very value of which is
thought to reside in their number, as though prayer
could be estimated arithmetically. But the prayer
that is repeated simply because the worshipper is too
persistent to be satisfied till it is answered does not
come into the category of "vain repetitions"; it is
anything but empty.
Immediately after his invocation of God's gracious
attention Nehemiah plunges into a confession of sin.
Ezra's great prayer was wholly occupied with confession,Ezra ix. 6-15.
and this mournful exercise takes a large place in Nehemiah's
prayer. But the younger man has one special
ground of confession. The startling news of the ruinous
condition of the recently restored city of Jerusalem
rouses a sort of national conscience in his breast. He
knows that the captivity was brought about as a chastisement
for the sins of the Jews. That great lesson—so
recklessly ignored when it was insisted on by
Jeremiah—had been burnt into the deepest convictions
of the exiles. Therefore Nehemiah makes no
complaint of the cruel behaviour of the enemies of Israel.
He does not whine about the pitiable plight of the
Jews. Their real enemies were their sins, and the
explanation of their present distress was to be found
in their own bad conduct. Thus Nehemiah goes to
the root of the matter, and that without a moment's
hesitation.
Further, it is interesting to see how he identifies
himself with his people in this confession. Living far
from the seat of the evil, himself a God-fearing, upright
man, he might have been tempted to treat the
citizens of Jerusalem as Job's comforters treated
the patriarch of Uz, and denounce their sins from
the secure heights of his own virtue. In declining
to assume this pharisaic attitude, Nehemiah shows that
he is not thinking of recent specific sins committed
by the returned exiles. The whole history of Israel's
apostasy is before him; he feels that the later as truly
as the earlier calamities flow from this one deep, foul
fountain of iniquity. Thus he can join himself with
his fathers and the whole nation in the utterance of
confession. This is different from the confession of
Ezra, who was thinking of one definite sin which he
did not share, but which he confessed in a priestly
sympathy. Nehemiah is less concerned with formal
legal precepts. He is more profoundly moved by the
wide and deep course of his people's sin generally.
Still it is a mark of self-knowledge and true humility, as
well as of patriotism, that he honestly associates himself
with his fellow-countrymen. He perceives that particular
sins, such as those found in the recent misconduct
of the Jews, are but symptoms of the underlying
sinful character; and that while circumstances may
save the individual from the temptation to exhibit every
one of these symptoms, they are accidental, and they
cannot be set to his credit. The common sin is in him
still; therefore he may well join himself to the penitents,
even though he has not participated in all their evil
deeds. The solidarity of the race is, unhappily, never
more apparent than in its sin. This sin is especially the
"one touch of" fallen "nature" that "makes the whole
world kin." It was to a trait of frailty that Shakespeare
was alluding when he coined his famous phrase, as the
context proves.Troilus and Cressida, Act iii., Scene 3.
The trail of the serpent is over every
human life, and in this ugly mark we have a terrible sign
of human brotherhood. Of all the elements of "Common
Prayer," confession can be most perfectly shared by
every member of a congregation, if only all the worshippers
are in earnest and know their own hearts.
Nehemiah does not enter much into detail with this
confession. It is sweeping and widely comprehensive.
Two points, however, may be noticed. First, he refers
to the Godward aspect of sin, its personal character as
an offence against God. Thus he says, "We have dealt
very corruptly against Thee."Neh. i. 7
So the prodigal first
confesses that he has sinned "against heaven."Luke xv. 18.
Secondly, he makes mention more than once of the
commandments of Moses. The name of Moses is often
appealed to with reverence in the history of this period
of Ezra and Nehemiah. Evidently the minds of men
reverted to the great founder of the nation at the time
of national penitence and restoration. Under these
circumstances no new edition of The Law could have
been adopted unless it was believed to have embodied
the substance of the older teaching.
After his confession Nehemiah goes on to appeal to
the Divine promises of restoration made to the penitent
in the great national covenant. He sums them up in
a definite sentence, not quoting any one utterance of
Deuteronomy, but garnering together the various
promises of mercy and dovetailing almost the very
language of them together, so as to present us with the
total result. These promises recognise the possibility
of transgression and the consequent scattering of the
people so often insisted on by the prophets and especially
by Jeremiah. They then go on to offer restoration on
condition of repentance and a return to obedient
allegiance. It is to be observed that this is all laid down
on national lines. The nation sins; the nation suffers;
the nation is restored to its old home. This is very
much a characteristic of Judaism, and it gives a breadth
to the operation of great religious principles which
would otherwise be unattainable when almost all regard
for a future life is left out of account. Christianity
dwells more on individualism, but it obtains space at
once by bringing the future life into prominence. In
the Old Testament the future of the nation takes much
the same place as that occupied by the future of the
individual in the New Testament.
In reviewing the history of God's way with Israel
Nehemiah lays his finger on the great fact of redemption.
The Jews are the "people whom God had redeemed by
His great power and His strong hand."Neh. i. 10.
Universal
usage compels us to fix upon the exodus under Moses,
and not Zerubbabel's pilgrimage, as the event to which
Nehemiah here alludes. That event, which was the
birth of the nation, always comes out in Hebrew literature
as the supreme act of Divine grace. In some
respects its position in the religion of Israel may be
likened to that of the cross of Christ in Christianity.
In both cases God's great work of redeeming His
children is the supreme proof of His mercy and the
grand source of assurance in praying to Him for new
help. On the ground of the great redemption Nehemiah
advances to the special petition with which his prayer
closes. This is most definite. It is on behalf of his
own need; it is for immediate help—"this day"; it is
for one particular need—in his proposed approach to
Artaxerxes to plead the cause of his people. Here
then is an instance of the most special prayer. It is
"to the point," and for most pressing present requirements.
We cannot but be struck with the reality of
such a prayer. Having reached this definite petition
Nehemiah closes abruptly.
When we glance back over the prayer as a whole,
we are struck with its order and progress. As in our
Lord's model prayer, the first part is absorbed with
thoughts of God; it is after uplifting his thoughts to
heaven that the worshipper comes down to human
need. Then a large place is given to sin. This comes
first in the consideration of man after the worshipper
has turned his eyes from the contemplation of God and
felt the contrast of darkness after light. Lastly, the
human subjects of the prayer begin in the wider circle
of the whole nation; only at the very last, in little more
than a sentence, Nehemiah brings forward his own
personal petition. Thus the prayer gradually narrows
down from the Divine to the human, and from the
national to the individual: as it narrows it becomes more
definite, till it ends in a single point; but this point is
driven home by the weight and force of all that precedes.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE PRAYER ANSWERED.
Nehemiah ii. 1-8.
Nehemiah's prayer had commenced on celestial
heights of meditation among thoughts of Divine
grace and glory, and when it had stooped to earth it
had swept over the wide course of his nation's history
and poured out a confession of the whole people's sin;
but the final point of it was a definite request for the
prospering of his contemplated interview with the king.
Artaxerxes was an absolute despot, surrounded with
the semi-divine honours that Orientals associate with
the regal state, and yet in speaking of him before
"the God of heaven," "the great and terrible God,"
Nehemiah loses all awe for his majestic pomp, and
describes him boldly as "this man."Neh. i. 11.
In the supreme
splendour of God's presence all earthly glory fades out of
the worshipper's sight, like a glow-worm's spark lost in
the sunlight. Therefore no one can be dazzled by human
magnificence so long as he walks in the light of God.
Here, however, Nehemiah is speaking of an absent
king. Now it is one thing to be fearless of man when
alone with God in the seclusion of one's own chamber,
and quite another to be equally imperturbable in the
world and away from the calming influence of undisturbed
communion with Heaven. We must remember
this if we would do justice to Nehemiah, because
otherwise we might be surprised that his subsequent
action did not show all the courage we should have
expected.
Four months passed away before Nehemiah attempted
anything on behalf of the city of his fathers.
The Jewish travellers probably thought that their visit
to the court servant had been barren of all results.
We cannot tell how this interval was occupied, but it
is clear that Nehemiah was brooding over his plans all
the time, and inwardly fortifying himself for his great
undertaking. His ready reply when he was suddenly
and quite unexpectedly questioned by the king shows
that he had made the troubles of Jerusalem a subject
of anxious thought, and that he had come to a clear
decision as to the course which he should pursue.
Time spent in such fruitful thinking is by no means
wasted. There is a hasty sympathy that flashes up at
the first sign of some great public calamity, eager "to
do something," but too blind in its impetuosity to
consider carefully what ought to be done; and this is
often the source of greater evils, because it is inconsiderate.
In social questions especially people are
tempted to be misled by a blind, impatient philanthropy.
The worst consequence of yielding to such
an influence—and one is strongly urged to yield for
fear of seeming cold and indifferent—is that the
certain disappointment that follows is likely to provoke
despair of all remedies, and to end in cynical callousness.
Then, in the rebound, every enthusiastic effort
for the public good is despised as but the froth of
sentimentality.
Very possibly Nehemiah had no opportunity of
speaking to the king during these four months. A
Persian sovereign was waited on by several cup-bearers,
and it is likely enough that Nehemiah's terms
of service were intermittent. On his return to the
court in due course he may have had the first occasion
for presenting his petition. Still it is not to be denied
that he found great difficulty in bringing himself to
utter it, and then only when it was dragged out of
him by the king. It was a petition of no common kind.
To request permission to leave the court might be
misconstrued unfavourably. Herodotus says that
people had been put to death both by Darius and by
Xerxes for showing reluctance to accompany their king.
Then had not this very Artaxerxes sanctioned the
raid upon Jerusalem which had resulted in the devastation
which Nehemiah deplored and which he
desired to see reversed? If the king remembered his
rescript to the Syrian governors, might he not regard
a proposal for the reversal of its policy as a piece of
unwarrantable impertinence on the part of his household
slave—nay, as an indication of treasonable designs?
All this would be apparent enough to Nehemiah as he
handed the wine-cup on bended knee to the Great
King. Is it wonderful then that he hesitated to speak,
or that he was "very sore afraid" when the king
questioned him about his sadness of countenance?
There is an apparent contradiction in Nehemiah's
statement concerning this sad appearance of his countenance
which is obscured in our English translation by
the unwarrantable insertion of the word "beforetime"
in Nehemiah ii. 1, so that the sentence reads, "Now I
had not been beforetime sad in his presence." This
word is a gloss of the translators. What Nehemiah
really says is simply, "Now I had not been sad in his
presence"—a statement that evidently refers to the
occasion then being described, and not to previous
times nor to the cup-bearer's habitual bearing. Yet in
the very next sentence we read how the king asked
Nehemiah the reason for the sadness of his countenance.
The contradiction would be as apparent to
the writer as it is to us; and if he left it Nehemiah
meant it to stand, no doubt intending to suggest by a
dramatic description of the scene that he attempted to
disguise his sorrow, but that his attempt was ineffectual—so
strong, so marked was his grief. It was
a rule of the court etiquette, apparently, that nobody
should be sad in the king's presence. A gloomy face
would be unpleasant to the monarch. Shakespeare's
Cæsar knew the security of cheerful associates when
he said:—
"Let me have men about me that are fat;
Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights:
Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look;
He thinks too much; such men are dangerous."
Besides, was not the sunshine of the royal countenance
enough to drive away all clouds of trouble from the
minds of his attendants? Nehemiah had drilled
himself into the courtier's habitual pleasantness of
demeanour. Nevertheless, though passing, superficial
signs of emotion may be quite reined in by a person
who is trained to control his features, indications of the
permanent conditions of the inner life are so deeply cut
in the lines and curves of the countenance that the
most consummate art of an actor cannot disguise them.
Nehemiah's grief was profound and enduring. Therefore
he could not hide it. Moreover, it is a king's
business to understand men, and long practice makes
him an expert in it. So Artaxerxes was not deceived
by the well-arranged smile of his servant; it was
evident to him that something very serious was
troubling the man. The sickness of a favourite attendant
would not be unknown to a kind and observant
king. Nehemiah was not ill, then. The source of
his trouble must have been mental. Sympathy and
curiosity combined to urge the king to probe the
matter to the bottom. Though alarmed at his master's
inquiry, the trembling cup-bearer could not but give a
true answer. Here was his great opportunity—thrust
on him since he had not had the courage to find it for
himself. Artaxerxes was not to be surprised that a man
should grieve when the city of his ancestors was lying
desolate. But this information did not satisfy the
king. His keen eye saw that there was more behind.
Nehemiah had some request which as yet he had not
been daring enough to utter. With real kindness
Artaxerxes invited him to declare it.
The critical moment had arrived. How much hangs
upon the next sentence—not the continuance of the
royal favour only, but perhaps the very life of the
speaker, and, what is of far more value to a patriot, the
future destiny of his people! Nehemiah's perception of
its intense importance is apparent in the brief statement
which he here inserts in his narrative: "So I
prayed to the God of heaven."Neh. ii. 4.
He is accustomed to
drop in suggestive notes on his own private
and behaviour along the course of his narrative. Only
a few lines earlier we came upon one of these characteristic
autobiographical touches in the words, "Now I
had not been sad in his presence,"Neh. ii. 1.
soon followed by
another, "Then I was very sore afraid."Neh. ii. 2.
Such remarks
vivify the narrative, and keep up an interest in
the writer. In the present case the interjection is
peculiarly suggestive. It was natural that Nehemiah
should be startled at the king's abrupt question, but it
is an indication of his devout nature that as the crisis
intensified his fear passed over into prayer. This was
not a set season of prayer; the pious Jew was not in
his temple, nor at any proseuché, there was no time for
a full, elaborate, and orderly utterance, such as that
previously recorded. Just at the moment of need, in
the very presence of the king, with no time to spare,
by a flash of thought, Nehemiah retires to that most
lonely of all lonely places, "the inner city of the
mind," there to seek the help of the Unseen God. And
it is enough: the answer is as swift as the prayer; in
a moment the weak man is made strong for his great
effort.
Such a sudden uplifting of the soul to God is the
most real of all prayers. This at least is genuine and
heartfelt, whatever may be the case with the semi-liturgical
composition the thought and beauty of which
engaged our attention in the previous chapter. But
then the man who can thus find God in a moment must
be in the habit of frequently resorting to the Divine
Presence; like the patriarchs, he must be walking with
God. The brief and sudden prayer reaches heaven as
an arrow suddenly shot from the bow; but it goes right
home, because he who lets it off in his surprise is a
good marksman, well practised. This ready prayer
only springs to the lips of a man who lives in a daily
habit of praying. We must associate the two kinds
of prayer in order to account for that which is now
before us. The deliberate exercises of adoration, confession,
and petition prepare for the one sudden ejaculation.
There we see the deep river which supplies
the sea of devotion from which the momentary prayer
is cast up as the spray of a wave. Therefore it was in
a great measure on account of his deliberate and unwearying
daily prayers that Nehemiah was prepared
with his quick cry to God in the crisis of need. We
may compare his two kinds of prayer with our Lord's
full and calm intercession in John xvii. and the short
agonised cry from the cross. In each case we feel
that the sudden appeal to God in the moment of dire
necessity is the most intense and penetrating prayer.
Still we must recognise that this comes from a man
who is much in prayer. The truth is that beneath
both of these prayers—the calm, meditative utterance,
and the simple cry for help—there lies the deep,
true essence of prayer, which is no thing of words at
all, but which lives on, even when it is voiceless, in the
heart of one of whom it can be said, as Tennyson
says of Mary,—
"Her eyes are homes of silent prayer."
Fortified by his moment's communion with God,
Nehemiah now makes known his request. He asks to
be sent to Jerusalem to repair its ruins and fortify the
city. This petition contains more than lies on the surface
of the words. Nehemiah does not say that he wishes
to be appointed Governor of Jerusalem in the high
office which had been held by Zerubbabel, but the subsequent
narrative shows that he was assigned to this
position, and his report of the king's orders about the
house he was to dwell in at Jerusalem almost implies
as much.Neh. ii. 8.
For one of the royal household servants to
be appointed to such a position was doubtless not so
strange an anomaly in the East in Nehemiah's day,
as it would be with us now. The king's will was the
fountain of all honour, and the seclusion in which the
Persian monarchs lived gave unusual opportunities
for the few personal attendants who were admitted into
their presence to obtain great favours from them. Still
Nehemiah's attitude seems to show some self-confidence
in a young man not as yet holding any political office.
Two or three considerations, however, will give a very
different complexion to his request. In the first place,
his city was in a desperate plight: deliverance was
urgently needed; no help appeared to be forthcoming
unless he stepped into the breach. If he failed, things
could hardly become worse than they were already.
Was this an occasion when a man should hold back
from a sense of modesty? There is a false modesty
which is really a product of the self-consciousness that is
next door to vanity. The man who is entirely oblivious
of self will sometimes forget to be modest. Moreover,
Nehemiah's request was at the peril of his life. When
it was granted he would be launched on a most hazardous
undertaking. The ambition—if we must use the
word—which would covet such a career is at the very
antipodes of that of the vulgar adventurer who simply
seeks power in order to gratify his own sense of importance.
"Seekest thou great things for thyself?
seek them not."Jer. xlv. 5.
That humbling rebuke may be
needed by many men; but it was not needed by
Nehemiah, for he was not seeking the great things
for himself.
It was a daring request; yet the king received it
most favourably. Again, then, we have the pleasing
spectacle of a Persian monarch showing kindness to
the Jews. This is not the first time that Artaxerxes
has proved himself their friend, for there can be no
doubt that he is the same sovereign as the Artaxerxes
who despatched Ezra with substantial presents to the
aid of the citizens of Jerusalem some twelve or thirteen
years before.
Here, however, a little difficulty emerges. In the
interval between the mission of Ezra and that of
Nehemiah an adverse decree had been extracted from
the compliant sovereign—the decree referred to in Ezra
iv. Now the semi-divinity that was ascribed to a
Persian monarch involved the fiction of infallibility,
and this was maintained by a rule making it unconstitutional
for him to withdraw any command that he had
once issued. How then could Artaxerxes now sanction
the building of the walls of Jerusalem, which but a
few years before he had expressly forbidden? The
difficulty vanishes on a very little consideration. The
king's present action was not the withdrawal of his
earlier decree, for the royal order to the Samaritans
had been just to the effect that the building of the walls
of Jerusalem should be stopped.Ezra iv. 21.
This order had been
fully executed; moreover it contained the significant
words, "until another decree shall be made by me."Ibid.
Therefore a subsequent permission to resume the work,
issued under totally different circumstances, would
not be a contradiction to the earlier order; and now
that a trusty servant of the king was to superintend
the operations, no danger of insurrection need be
apprehended. Then the pointed notice of the fact
that the chief wife—described as "The Queen"—was
sitting by Artaxerxes, is evidently intended
to imply that her presence helped the request of
Nehemiah. Orientalists have discovered her name,
Damaspia, but nothing about her to throw light on
her attitude towards the Jews. She may have been
even a proselyte, or she may have simply shown herself
friendly towards the young cup-bearer. No
political or religious motives are assigned for the
conduct of Artaxerxes here. Evidently Nehemiah
regarded the granting of his request as a direct
result of the royal favour shown towards himself.
"Put not your trust in princes"Psalm cxlvi. 3.
is a wholesome
warning, born of the melancholy disappointment of
the pilgrims who had placed too much hope in the
Messianic glamour with which the career of poor
Zerubbabel opened; but it does not mean that a
man is to fling away the advantages which accrue to
him from the esteem he has won in high places. Ever
since the Israelites showed no scruple in spoiling the
Egyptians—and who could blame them for seizing at
the eleventh hour the overdue wages of which they
had been defrauded for generations?—"the people of
God" have not been slow to reap harvests of advantage
whenever persecution or cold indifference has
given place to the brief, fickle favour of the world.
Too often this has been purchased at the price
of the loss of liberty—a ruinous exchange. Here is
the critical point. The difficulty is to accept aid without
any compromise of principle. Sycophancy is the
besetting snare of the courtier, and when the Church
turns courtier she is in imminent danger of that, in
her, most fatal fault. But Nehemiah affords a splendid
example to the contrary. In his grand independence
of character we have a fine instance of a wise, strong
use of worldly advantages, entirely free from the
abuses that too commonly accompany them. Thus
he anticipates the idea of the Apocalypse where it
is said, "The earth helped the woman."Rev. xii. 16.
The interest of the king in his cup-bearer is shown
by his repeated questions, and by the determined manner
in which he drags out of Nehemiah all his plans and
wishes. Every request is granted. The favourite
servant is too much valued to get his leave of absence
without some limit of time, but even that is fixed in
accordance with Nehemiah's desire. He asks and
obtains letters of introduction to the governors west of
the Euphrates. The letters were most necessary, because
these very men had bestirred themselves to obtain
the adverse decree but a very few years before. It is
not likely that they had all veered round to favour the
hated people against whom they had just been exhibiting
the most severe antagonism. Nehemiah therefore
showed a wise caution in obtaining a sort of "safe
conduct." The friendliness of Artaxerxes went still
further. The king ordered timber to be provided for
the building and fortifying operations contemplated by
his cup-bearer; this was to be furnished from a royal
hunting park—a "Paradise," to use the Persian word—probably
one which formerly belonged to the royal
demesne of Judah, somewhere in the neighbourhood of
Jerusalem, as the head-forester bore a Hebrew name,
"Asaph."Neh. ii. 8.
Costly cedars for the temple had to be
fetched all the way from the distant mountains of
Lebanon, in Phœnician territory; but the city gates
and the castle and house carpentry could be well
supplied from the oaks and other indigenous timber of
Palestine.
All these details evince the practical nature of
Nehemiah's patriotism. His last word on the happy
conclusion of the interview with Artaxerxes, which he
had anticipated with so much apprehension, shows
that higher thoughts were not crushed out by the
anxious consideration of external affairs. He concludes
with a striking phrase, which we have met with earlier
on the lips of Ezra.Ezra vii. 28.
"And the king granted me,
according to the good hand of my God upon me."Neh. ii. 8.
Here
is the same recognition of Divine Providence, and the
same graphic image of the "hand" of God laid on the
writer. It looks as though the younger man had been
already a disciple of the Great Scribe. But his utterance
is not the less genuine and heartfelt on that
account. He perceives that his prayer has been heard
and answered. The strength and beauty of his life
throughout may be seen in his constant reference of
all things to God in trust and prayer before the event,
and in grateful acknowledgment afterwards.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE MIDNIGHT RIDE.
Nehemiah ii. 9-20.
Nehemiah's journey up to Jerusalem differed in
many respects from Ezra's great expedition, with
a host of emigrants, rich stores, and all the accompaniments
of a large caravan. Burdened with none of these
encumbrances, the newly appointed governor would be
able to travel in comparative ease. Yet while Ezra was
"ashamed" to ask for a military escort to protect his
defenceless multitude and the treasures which were
only too likely to attract the vulture eyes of roving
hordes of Bedouin, because, as he tells us, he feared
such a request might be taken as a sign of distrust in
his God, Nehemiah accepted a troop of cavalry without
any hesitation. This difference, however, does not
reflect any discredit on the faith of the younger man.
In the first place, his claims on the king were greater
than those of Ezra, who would have had to petition
for the help of soldiers if he had wanted it, whereas
Nehemiah received his body-guard as a matter of
course. Ezra had been a private subject previous to
his appointment, and though he had subsequently been
endowed with large authority of an indefinite character,
that authority was confined to the execution of the
Jewish law; it had nothing to do with the general concerns
of the Persian government in Syria or Palestine.
But Nehemiah came straight from the court, where
he had been a favourite servant of the king, and he
was now made the official governor of Jerusalem. It
was only in accordance with custom that he should
have an escort assigned him when he went to take
possession of his district. Then, probably to save time,
Nehemiah would travel by the perilous desert route
through Tadmor, and thus cover the whole journey in
about two months—a route which Ezra's heavy caravan
may have avoided. When he reached Syria the fierce
animosity which had been excited by Ezra's domestic
reformation—and which therefore had broken out after
Ezra's expedition—would make it highly dangerous for
a Jew who was going to aid the hated citizens of
Jerusalem to travel through the mixed population.
Nevertheless, after allowing their full weight to these
considerations, may we not still detect an interesting
trait of the younger man's character in Nehemiah's
ready acceptance of the guard with which Ezra had
deliberately dispensed? In the eyes of the world the
idealist Ezra must have figured as a most unpractical
person. But Nehemiah, a courtier by trade, was
evidently well accustomed to "affairs." Naturally a
cautious man, he was always anxious in his preparations,
though no one could blame him for lack of decision or
promptness at the moment of action. Now the striking
thing about his character in this relation—that which
lifts it entirely above the level of purely secular prudence—is
the fact that he closely associated his careful habits
with his faith in Providence. He would have regarded
the rashness which excuses itself on the plea of faith as
culpable presumption. His religion was all the more
real and thorough because it did not confine itself to
unearthly experiences, or refuse to acknowledge the
Divine in any event that was not visibly miraculous.
No man was ever more impressed with the great truth
that God was with him. It was this truth, deeply
rooted in his heart, that gave him the joy which became
the strength, the very inspiration of his life. He was
sure that his commonest secular concerns were moulded
by the hand of his God. Therefore to his mind the
detachment of Persian cavalry was as truly assigned to
him by God as if it had been a troop of angels sent
straight from the hosts of heaven.
The highly dangerous nature of his undertaking and
the necessity for exercising the utmost caution were
apparent to Nehemiah as soon as he approached
Jerusalem. Watchful enemies at once showed themselves
annoyed "that there was come a man to seek
the welfare of the children of Israel."Neh. ii. 10.
It was not any
direct injury to themselves, it was the prospect of some
favour to the hated Jews that grieved these people;
though doubtless their jealousy was in part provoked by
dread lest Jerusalem should regain the position of pre-eminence
in Palestine which had been enjoyed during
her depression by the rival city of Samaria. Under these
circumstances Nehemiah followed the tactics which he
had doubtless learnt during his life among the treacherous
intrigues of an Oriental court. He did not at first reveal
his plans. He spent three days quietly in Jerusalem.
Then he took his famous ride round the ruins of the
city walls. This was as secret as King Alfred's exploration
of the camp of the Danes. Without breathing a
word of his intention to the Jews, and taking only a
horse or an ass to ride on himself and a small body of
trusty attendants on foot, Nehemiah set out on his tour
in the dead of night. No doubt the primary purpose of
this secrecy was that no suspicion of his design should
reach the enemies of the Jews. Had these men suspected
it they would have been beforehand with their
plans for frustrating it; spies and traitors would have
been in the field before Nehemiah was prepared to
receive them; emissaries of the enemy would have
perverted the minds even of loyal citizens. It would be
difficult enough under any circumstances to rouse the
dispirited people to undertake a work of great toil and
danger. If they were divided in counsel from the first
it would be hopeless. Moreover, in order to persuade
the Jews to fortify their city, Nehemiah must be prepared
with a clear and definite proposal. He must be
able to show them that he understands exactly in what
condition their ruined fortifications are lying. For his
personal satisfaction, too, he must see the ruins with
his own eyes. Ever since the travellers from Jerusalem
who met him at Susa had shocked him with their evil
tidings, a vision of the broken walls and charred gates
had been before his imagination. Now he would really
see the very ruins themselves, and ascertain whether all
was as bad as it had been represented.
The uncertainty which still surrounds much of the
topography of Jerusalem, owing to its very foundations
having been turned over by the ploughshare of the
invader, while some of its sacred sites have been buried
under huge mounds of rubbish, renders it impossible
to trace Nehemiah's night ride in all its details. If we
are to accept the latest theory, according to which the
gorge hitherto regarded as the Tyropœon is really
the ancient Valley of Hinnom, some other sites will
need considerable readjustment. The "Gate of the
Valley" seems to be one near the head of the Valley
of Hinnom; we know nothing of the "Dragon Well";
the "Dung Port" would be a gateway through which
the city offal was flung out to the fires in the Valley of
Hinnom; the "King's Pool" is very likely that afterwards
known as the "Pool of Siloam." The main direction
of Nehemiah's tour of inspection is fairly definite
to us. He started at the western exit from the city
and passed down to the left, to where the Valley of
Hinnom joins the Valley of the Kidron; ascending this
valley, he found the masses of stones and heaps of
rubbish in such confusion that he was compelled to
leave the animal he had been riding hitherto and to
clamber over the ruins on foot. Reaching the north-eastern
corner of the Valley of the Kidron, he would
turn round by the northern side of the city, where most
of the gates had been situated, because there the city,
which was difficult of access to the south and the east
on account of the encircling ravines, could be easily
approached.
And what did he gain by his journey? He gained
knowledge. The reformation that is planned by the
student at his desk, without any reference to the actual
state of affairs, will be, at best, a Utopian dream. But
if the dreamer is also a man of resources and opportunities,
his impracticable schemes may issue in incalculable
mischief. "Nothing is more terrible," says
Goethe, "than active ignorance." We can smile at
a knight-errant Don Quixote; but a Don Quixote in
power would be as dangerous as a Nero. Most
schemes of socialism, though they spring from the
brains of amiable enthusiasts, break up like empty
bubbles on the first contact with the real world. It
is especially necessary, too, to know the worst. Optimism
is very cheering in idea, but when it is indulged
in to the neglect of truth, with an impatient disregard
for the shady side of life, it simply leads its devotees
into a fools' paradise. The highest idealist must have
something of the realist in him if he would ever have
his ideas transformed into facts.
Further, it is to be noted that Nehemiah would
gather his information for himself; he could not be
content with hearsay evidence. Here again he reveals
the practical man. It is not that he distrusts the
honesty of any agents he might employ, nor merely
that he is aware of the deplorable inaccuracy of observers
generally and the inability of nearly all people
to give an uncoloured account of what they have seen;
but he knows that there is an impression to be obtained
by personal observation which the most correct description
cannot approach. No map or book will give a
man a right idea of a place that he has never visited.
If this is true of the external world, much more is it
the case with those spiritual realities which the eye
hath not seen, and which therefore it has not entered
into the heart of man to conceive. Wordsworth frequently
refers to his sensations of surprise and disappointment
passing over into a new delight when he
first beheld scenes long ago described to him in verse
of legend. He finds "Yarrow visited" very unlike
"Yarrow unvisited." One commonplace distinction
we must all have noticed under similar circumstances—viz.,
that the imagination is never rich and varied
enough to supply us with the complications of the
reality. Before we have looked at it our idea of the
landscape is too simple, and an invariable impression
produced by the actual sight of it is to make us feel
how much more elaborate it is. Indeed a personal
investigation of most phenomena reveals an amount
of complication previously unsuspected. Where the
investigation is, like Nehemiah's, concerned with an
evil we propose to attack, the result is that we begin
to see that the remedy cannot be so simple as we
imagined before we knew all the facts.
But the chief effect of Nehemiah's night ride would
be to impress him with an overwhelming sense of the
desolation of Jerusalem. We may know much by
report, but we feel most keenly that of which we have
had personal experience. Thus the news of a gigantic
cataclysm in China does not affect us with a hundredth
part of the emotion that is excited in us by a simple
street accident seen from our own windows. The man
whose heart will be moved enough for him to sacrifice
himself seriously in relieving misery is he who will
first "visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction."James i. 27.
Then the proof that the impression is deep
and real, and not a mere idle sentiment, will be seen
in the fact that it prompts action. Nehemiah was
moved to tears by the report of the ruinous condition
of Jerusalem, which reached him in the far-off palace
beyond the Euphrates. What the scene meant to him
as he slowly picked his way among the huge masses of
masonry is seen by his conduct immediately afterwards.
It must have stirred him profoundly. The
silence of the sleeping city, broken now and again by
the dismal howls of packs of dogs scouring the streets,
or perhaps by the half-human shrieks of jackals on the
deserted hills in the outlying country; the dreary
solitude of the interminable heaps of ruins; the
mystery of strange objects half-descried in the distance
by starlight, or, at best, by moonlight; the mournful
discovery, on nearer view, of huge building stones
tumbled over and strewn about on mountainous heaps
of dust and rubbish; the gloom, the desolation, the
terror,—all this was enough to make the heart of a
patriot faint with despair. Was it possible to remedy
such huge calamities?
Nehemiah does not despair. He has no time to
grieve. We hear no more of his weeping and lamentation
and fasting. Now he is spurred on to decisive
action.
Fortified by the knowledge he has acquired in his
adventurous night ride, and urged by the melancholy
sights he has witnessed, Nehemiah loses no time in
bringing his plans before the oligarchy of nobles who
held the rule in Jerusalem previous to his coming, as
well as the rest of the Jews. Though he is now the
officially appointed governor, he cannot arrange matters
with a high hand. He must enlist the sympathy and
encourage the faith, both of the leaders and of the
people generally.
The following points in his speech to the Jews may
be noticed. First, he calls attention to the desolate
condition of Jerusalem.Neh. ii. 17, 18.
This is a fact well known.
"Ye see the evil case that we are in," he says, "how
Jerusalem lieth waste, and the gates thereof are burned
with fire." The danger was that apathy would succeed
to despair, for it is possible for people to become
accustomed to the most miserable condition. The
reformer must infuse a "Divine discontent"; and the
preliminary step is to get the evil plight well recognised
and heartily disliked. In the second place, Nehemiah
exhorts the nobles and people to join him in building
the walls. So now he clearly reveals his plan. The
charm in his utterance here is in the use of the first
person plural: not the first person singular—he cannot
do the work alone, nor does he wish to; not the
second person—though he is the authoritative governor,
he does not enjoin on others a task the toil and responsibility
of which he will not share himself. In the
genuine use of this pronoun "we" there lies the secret
of all effective exhortation. Next Nehemiah proceeds
to adduce reasons for his appeal. He calls out the sense
of patriotic pride in the remark, "that we be no more a
reproach"; and he goes further, for the Jews are the
people of God, and for them to fail is for reproach to
be cast on the name of God Himself. Here is the
great religious motive for not permitting the city of
God to lie in ruins, as it is to-day the supreme motive
for keeping all taint of dishonour from the Church of
Christ.
But direct encouragements are needed. A sense of
shame may rouse us from our lethargy, and yet in the
end it will be depressing if it does not give place to the
inspiration of a new hope. Now Nehemiah has two
fresh grounds of encouragement. He first names that
which he esteems highest—the presence and help of
God in his work. "I told them," he says, "of the
hand of my God which was good upon me." How could
he despair, even at the spectacle of the ruined walls
and gateways, with the consciousness of this great and
wonderful truth glowing in his heart? Not that he
was a mystic weaving fantastic dreams out of the
filmy substance of his own vague feelings. It is true
he felt impelled by the strong urging of his patriotism,
and he knew that God was in that holy passion. Yet
his was an objective mind and he recognised the hand
of God chiefly in external events—in the Providence
that opens doors and indicates paths, that levels
mountains of difficulty and fills up impassable chasms,
that even bends the wills of great kings to do its
bidding. This action of Providence he had himself witnessed;
his very presence at Jerusalem was a token of
it. He, once a household slave in the jealous seclusion of
an Oriental palace, was now the governor of Jerusalem,
appointed to his post for the express purpose of restoring
the miserable city to strength and safety. In all this
Nehemiah felt the hand of God upon him. Then it
was a gracious and merciful Providence that had led
him. Therefore he could not but own further that the
hand of God was "good." He perceived God's work,
and that work was to him most wonderfully full of
lovingkindness. Here indeed was the greatest of all
encouragements to proceed. It was well that Nehemiah
had the devout insight to perceive it; a less spiritually
minded man might have received the marvellous favour
without ever discovering the hand from which it came.
Following the example of the miserable, worldly Jacob,
some of us wake up in our Bethel to exclaim with
surprise, "Surely the Lord is in this place; and I knew
it not."Gen. xxviii. 16.
But even that is better than to slumber on
in dull indifference, too dead to recognise the Presence
that guides and blesses every footstep, provoking the
melancholy lamentation: "The ox knoweth his owner,
and the ass his master's crib: but Israel doth not know,
My people doth not consider."Isa. i. 3.
Lastly, Nehemiah not only perceived the hand of
God and took courage from his assurance of the fact;
he made this glorious fact known to the nobles of
Jerusalem in order to rouse their enthusiasm. He had
the simplicity of earnestness, the openness of one who
forgets self in advocating a great cause. Is not
reticence in religion too often a consequence of the
habit of turning one's thoughts inward? Such a habit
will vanish at the touch of a serious purpose. The man
who is in dead earnest has no time to be self-conscious;
he does not indulge in sickly reflections on the effect
of what he says on other people's opinions about himself;
he will not care what they think about him so long
as he moves them to do the thing it is laid on his soul
to urge upon them. But it is difficult to escape from
the selfish subjectivity of modern religion, and recover
the grand naturalness of the saints alike of Old and of
New Testament times.
After this revelation of the Divine Presence, Nehemiah's
second ground of encouragement is of minor
interest; it can be but one link in the chain of providential
leading. Yet for a man who had not reached
his lofty point of view, it would have filled the whole
horizon. The king had given permission to the Jews
to rebuild the walls; and he had allowed Nehemiah to
visit Jerusalem for the very purpose of carrying out
the work. This king, Artaxerxes, whose firman had
stopped the earlier attempt and even sanctioned the
devastating raid of the enemies of the Jews, was now
proving himself the friend and champion of Jerusalem!
Here was cheering news!
It is not surprising that such a powerful appeal as
this of Nehemiah's was successful. It was like the
magic horn that awoke the inmates of the enchanted
castle. The spell was broken. The long, listless
torpor of the Jews gave place to hope and energy, and
the people braced themselves to commence the work.
These Jews who had been so lethargic hitherto were
now the very men to undertake it. Nehemiah brought
no new labourers; but he brought what was better,
the one essential requisite for every great enterprise—an
inspiration. He brought what the world most
needs in every age. We wait for better men to arise
and undertake the tasks that seem to be too great for
our strength; we cry for a new race of God-sent
heroes to accomplish the Herculean labours before
which we faint and fail. But we might ourselves
become the better men; nay, assuredly we should
become God's heroes, if we would but open our hearts
to receive the Spirit by the breath of which the
weakest are made strong and the most indolent are
fired with a Divine energy. To-day, as in the time
of Nehemiah, the one supreme need is inspiration.
CHAPTER XIX.
BUILDING THE WALLS.
Nehemiah iii.
The third chapter of the Book of Nehemiah supplies
a striking illustration of the constructive character
of the history of the Jews in the Persian period.
Nor is that all. A mechanical, Chinese industry may
be found side by side with indications of moral littleness.
But the activity displayed in the restoration of the city
walls is more than industrious, more than productive.
We must be struck with the breadth of the picture.
This characteristic was manifest in the earlier work
of building the temple, and it pervades the subsequent
religious movement of the shaping of Judaism and the
development of The Law. Here it is apparent in the
fact that the Jews unite in a great common work for
the good of the whole community. It was right and
necessary that they should rebuild their private houses;
but though it would appear that some of these houses
must have been in a very ruinous condition, for this
was the case even with the governor's residence,Neh. ii. 8.
the
great scheme now set on foot was for the public
advantage. There is something almost socialistic about
the execution of it; at all events we meet with that
comprehensiveness of view, that elevation of tone, that
sinking of self in the interests of society, which we
should look for in true citizenship.
This is the more noteworthy because the object of the
Jews in the present undertaking was what is now called
"secular." The earlier public building operations
carried out by their fathers had been confessedly and
formally religious. Zerubbabel and Jeshua had led a
band of pilgrims up to Jerusalem for the express
purpose of rebuilding the temple, and at first the
returned exiles had confined their attention to this
work and its associated sacrificial rites, without revealing
any political ambition, and apparently without even
coveting any civic privileges. Subsequently some
sense of citizenship had begun to appear in Ezra's
reformation, but every expression of it had been since
checked by jealous and hostile influences from without.
At length Nehemiah succeeded in rousing the spirit
of citizenship by means of the inspiration of religious
faith. The new enthusiasm was not directly concerned
with the temple; it aimed at fortifying the city. Yet it
sprang from prayer and faith. Thus the Jews were
feeling their way to that sacredness of civic duties
which we in the freer air of Christianity have been so
slow to acknowledge.
The special form of this activity in the public interest
is also significant. The process of drawing a line round
Jerusalem by enclosing it within the definite circuit of
a wall helped to mark the individuality and unity of
the place as a city, which an amorphous congerie of
houses could not be, according to the ancient estimate,
because the chief distinction between a city and a
village was just this, that the city was walled while the
village was unwalled. The first privilege enjoyed by
the city would be its security—its strength to withstand
assaults. But the walls that shut out foes shut in the
citizens—a fact which seems to have been present to
the mind of the poet who wrote,—
"Our feet are standing
Within thy gates, O Jerusalem;
Jerusalem, that art builded
As a city that is compact together."Psalm cxxii. 2, 3.
The city is "compact together." City life is corporate
life. It is not at all easy for us to appreciate this fact
while our idea of a city is only represented by a crowd
of men, women, and children crammed into a limited
space, but with scarcely any sense of common life and
aims; still less when we look behind the garish
splendour of the streets to the misery and degradation,
the disease and famine and vice, that make their nests
under the very shadow of wealth and pleasure.
Naturally we turn with loathing from such sights, and
long for the fresh, quiet country life. But this accidental
conglomerate of bricks and human beings is in
no sense a city. The true city—such a city as Jerusalem,
or Athens, or Rome in its best days—is a focus
of the very highest development of life known to man.
The word "civilisation" should remind us that it is the
city which indicates the difference between the cultivated
man and the savage. Originally it was the civis, the
citizen, who marched in the van of the world's progress.
Nor is it difficult to account for his position. Intercommunication
of ideas sharpening intelligence—"as
iron sharpeneth iron,"—division of labour permitting the
specialisation of industry, combination in work making
it possible for great undertakings to be carried out, the
necessity for mutual considerateness among the members
of a community and the consequent development of the
social sympathies, all tend to progress. And the sense
of a common life realised in this way has weighty
moral issues. The larger the social unit becomes, the
more will people be freed from pettiness of thought
and selfishness of aim. The first step in this direction
is made when we regard the family rather than the
individual as the true unit. If we pass beyond this in
modern times, we commonly advance straight on to the
whole nation for our notion of a compact community.
But the stride is too great. Very few people are able
to reach the patriotism that sinks self in the larger life
of a nation. With a Mazzini, and even with smaller
men who are magnetised by the passion of such an
enthusiast in times of excitement, this may be possible.
But with ordinary men in ordinary times it is not very
attainable. How many Englishmen leave legacies for
the payment of the National Debt? Still more difficult
is it to become really cosmopolitan, and acquire a sense
of the supreme duty of living for mankind. Our Lord
has come to our aid here in giving us a new unit—the
Church; so that to be a citizen of this "City of God"
is to be called out of the circle of the narrow, selfish
interests into the large place where great, common duties
and an all-comprehensive good of the whole body are
set before us as the chief aims to be pursued.
In rebuilding the city walls, then, Nehemiah was
accomplishing two good objects; he was fortifying the
place, and he was restoring its organic unity. The
two advantages would be mutually helpful, because
the weakness of Jerusalem was destroying the peculiar
character of her life. The aristocracy, thinking it
impossible to preserve the community in isolation, had
encouraged and practised intermarriage with neighbouring
people, no doubt from a politic regard to the
advantage of foreign alliances. Although Nehemiah
was not yet prepared to grapple with this great
question, his fortification of Jerusalem would help the
citizens to maintain their Jewish separateness, according
to the principle that only the strong can be
free.
The careful report which Nehemiah has preserved of
the organisation of this work shows us how complete
it was. The whole circuit of the walls was restored.
Of course it was most necessary that nothing less
should be attempted, because, like the strength of a
chain, the strength of a fortress is limited to that
of its weakest part. And yet—obvious as it is—probably
most failures, not only in public works, but
also in private lives, are directly attributable to the
neglect of this elementary principle of defence. The
difficulty always is to reach that kind of perfection
which is suggested by the circle, rather than the
pinnacle—the perfection of completeness. Now in
the present instance the completion of the circuit of
the walls of Jerusalem testifies to the admirable organising
power of Nehemiah, his tact in putting the right
men in the right places—the most important and
difficult duty of a leader of men, and his perseverance
in overcoming the obstacles and objections that must
have been thrust in his path—all of them what people
call secular qualities, yet all sustained and perfected
by a noble zeal and by that transparent unselfishness
which is the most powerful solvent of the selfishness
of other people. There are more moral qualities involved
in the art of organisation than they would
suppose who regard it as a hard, mechanical contrivance
in which human beings are treated like parts
of a machine. The highest form of organisation is
never attained in that brutal manner. Directly we
approach men as persons endowed with rights, convictions,
and feelings, an element of sympathy is called
for which makes the organising process a much more
delicate concern.
Another point calls for remark here. Nehemiah's
description of his organisation of the people for the
purpose of building the walls links the several groups
of men who were responsible for the different parts
with their several districts. The method of division
shows a devolution of responsibility. Each gang had
its own bit of wall or its own gate to see to. The
rule regulating the assignment of districts was that,
as far as practicable, every man should undertake the
work opposite his own house. He was literally to "do
the thing that lay nearest" to him in this business.
It was in every way a wise arrangement. It would
prevent the disorder and vexation that would be excited
if people were running about to select favourite sites—choosing
the easiest place, or the most prominent, or
the safest, or any other desirable spot. Surely there is
no principle of organisation so simple or so wise as
that which directs us to work near home in the first
instance. With the Jews this rule would commend
itself to the instinct of self-interest. Nobody would
wish the enemy to make a breach opposite his own
door, of all places. Therefore the most selfish man
would be likely to see to it that the wall near his
house was solidly built. If, however, no other inducements
had been felt in the end, the work would have
failed of any great public good, as all purely selfish
work must ultimately fail. There would have been
gaps which it was nobody's interest in particular to
fill.
Next it is to be observed that this building was done
by "piece work," and that with the names of the
workmen attached to it, so that if any of them did their
work ill the fact would be known and recorded to their
lasting disgrace; but also so that if any put an extra
amount of finish on their work this too should be
known and remembered to their credit. The idle and
negligent workman would willingly be lost in the crowd;
but this escape was not to be permitted, he must be
dragged out and set in the pillory of notoriety. On the
other hand, the humble and devoted citizen would crave
no recognition, doing his task lovingly for the sake of
his God and his city, feeling that the work was everything—the
worker nothing. For his own sake one
who labours in this beautiful spirit seems to deserve
to be sheltered from the blaze of admiration at the
thought of which he shrinks back in dismay. And yet
this is not always possible. St. Paul writes of the day
when every man's work shall be made manifest.1 Cor. iii. 13.
If
the honour is really offered to God, who inspires the
work, the modesty which leads the human agent to
seek the shade may be overstrained, for the servant
need not blush to stand in the light when all eyes are
directed to his Master. But when honour is offered to
the servant also, this may not be without its advantages.
Rightly taken it will humble him. He will feel that his
unworthiness would not have permitted this if God had
not been very gracious to him. Then he will feel also
that he has a character to maintain. If it is ruinous to
lose a reputation—"the better part of me," as poor
Cassio exclaims in his agony of remorse—it must be
helpful to have one to guard from reproach. "A good
name is rather to be chosen than great riches,"Prov. xxii. 1.
not
only because of the indirect advantages it brings from the
consideration of the world—its mere purchasing power
in the market of human favour; this is its least advantage.
Its chief value is in the very possession of it
by one whose honour is involved in living worthily
of it.
From another point of view the record of the names
of people who have rendered good service may be
valuable. It will be a stimulus to their successors.
The Early Church preserved the names of her confessors
and martyrs in the diptychs which were expressly
provided for use in public worship, that God might be
praised for their noble lives, and that the living might
be stimulated to follow their example. Here is one of
the great uses of history. We cannot afford to forget
the loyal service of the past, because out of it we draw
inspiration for the present. The people with a great
history have come into a rich heritage. To be a child
of a really noble house, to spring from a family truly
without reproach—a family all whose sons are pure and
all whose daughters are brave—surely this is to receive
a high commission to cherish the good name unsullied.
As the later Jews gazed at the towers of Jerusalem
and marked well her bulwarks, with the thought that
this massive strength was the fruit of the toil and
sacrifice of their own forefathers—so that the very
names of individual ancestors were linked with exact
spots on the grey walls—they would hear a call to
loyal service worthy of their noble predecessors.
To proceed, we may observe further that the groups
of builders fall into several classes. The first place is
given to the priestly order—"the high-priest and his
brethren the priests."Neh. iii. 1.
This is quite in accordance
with the sacerdotal spirit of the times, when the
theocracy was emerging into power to take the place
left vacant by the decay of the house of David. But
the priests are not only named first. Nehemiah states
that they were the first to respond to his appeal.
"Then"—i.e., after he had addressed the assembled
Jews—"Then Eliashib the high-priest rose up," etc.
This man—the grandson of Jeshua, from whom so
much was expected by Zechariah—was the first to set
his hand to the tremendous task. First in honour, he
was first in service. The beauty of his action lies in
its silence. Not a word is recorded as spoken by him.
But he was not satisfied to sanction the work of humbler
men. He led the people in the best possible way, by
beginning the work himself, by directly taking upon
him his share of it. In this noble simplicity of service
Eliashib was followed by the priesthood generally.
These men put forth no claims to immunity from the
obligation of civic duties or secular occupations. It
never occurred to them to object that such employments
were in the least degree inconsistent with their
high office. The priestly order was hampered by
the strictest rules of artificial separation; but the
quaint notion—so common in the East, and not quite
unknown in the West—that there is something degrading
in hard work did not enter into them.
There are two points to be noticed in the special
work of the priests. First, its locality. These ministers
of the temple set up the "Sheep Gate," which was the
gate nearest to the temple. Thus they made themselves
responsible for their own quarters, guarding
what was especially entrusted to their care. This was
in accordance with the plan observed all round the city,
that the inhabitants should work in the neighbourhood
of their respective houses. The priests, who have the
honour of special connection with the temple, feel that
a special charge accompanies that honour; and rightly,
for responsibility always follows privilege. Second, its
consecration. The priests "sanctified" their work—i.e.,
they dedicated it to God. This was not in the sacred
enclosure—the Haram as it is now called. Nevertheless,
their gate and wall, as well as their temple, were
to be reckoned holy. They did not hold the strange
modern notion that while the cemetery, the city of the
dead, is to de consecrated, the city of the living requires
no consecration. They saw that the very stones and
timbers of Jerusalem belonged to God, and needed His
presence to keep them safe and pure. They were
wise, for is He not "the God of the living" and of
all the concerns of life?
The next class of workmen is comprised of men who
were taken according to their families. These would
probably be all of them citizens of Jerusalem, some
present by right of birth as descendants of former
citizens, others perhaps sprung from the inhabitants
of distant towns not yet restored to Israel who had
made Jerusalem their home. Their duty to fortify
their own city was indubitable.
But now, as in the earlier lists, there is another class
among the laity, consisting of the inhabitants of neighbouring
towns, who are arranged, not according to
families, but according to their residence. Most likely
these men were living in Jerusalem at the time; and
yet it is probable that they retained their interest in
their provincial localities. But Jerusalem was the
capital, the centre of the nation, the Holy City. Therefore
the inhabitants of other cities must care for her
welfare. In a great scheme of religious centralisation
at Jerusalem Josiah had found the best means of
establishing unity of worship, and so of impressing
upon the worshippers the idea of the unity of God.
The same method was still pursued. People were
not yet ripe for the larger thoughts of God and His
worship which Jesus expressed by Jacob's well. Until
that was reached, external unity with a visible centre
was essential if a multiplex division of divinity was to
be avoided. After these neighbours who thus helped
the metropolis we have two other groups—the temple
servants and the trade guilds of goldsmiths and
merchants.
Now, while on all sides ready volunteers press forward
to the work, just one painful exception is found
to mar the harmony of the scene, or rather to lessen
its volume—for this was found in abstention, not in
active opposition. To their shame it is recorded that
the nobles of Tekoa "put not their necks to the work of
their Lord."Neh. iii. 5.
The general body of citizens from this
town took part. We are not told why the aristocracy
held back. Did they consider the labour beneath their
dignity? or was there a breach between them and
the townsfolk? The people of Tekoa may have been
especially democratic. Ages before, a herdsman from
this same town, the rough prophet Amos, had shown
little respect for the great ones of the earth. Possibly
the Tekoites had vexed their princes by showing a
similar spirit of independence. But if so, Nehemiah
would regard their conduct as affording the princes no
excuse. For it was the Lord's work that these nobles
refused to undertake, and there is no justification for
letting God's service suffer when a quarrel has broken
out between His servants. Yet how common is this
miserable result of divisions among men who should be
united in the service of God. Whatever was the cause—whether
it was some petty personal offence or some
grave difference of opinion—these nobles go down the
ages, like those unhappy men in the early days of the
Judges who earned the "curse of Meroz," disgraced
eternally, for no positive offence, but simply because they
left undone what they ought to have done. Nehemiah
pronounces no curse. He chronicles the bare fact.
But his ominous silence in regard to any explanation is
severely condemnatory. The man who builds his house
on the sand in hearing Christ's words and doing them
not, the servant who is beaten with many stripes because
he knows his lord's will and does not perform it,
that other servant who buries his talent, the virgins
who forget to fill their vessels with oil, the people
represented by goats on the left hand whose sole
ground of accusation is that they refused to exercise
the common charities—all these illustrate the important
but neglected truth that our Lord's most
frequent words of condemnation were expressed for
what we call negative evil—the evil of harmless but
useless lives.
Happily we may set exceptional devotion in another
quarter over against the exceptional remissness of
the nobles of Tekoa. Brief as is his summary of the
division of the work, Nehemiah is careful to slip in
a word of praise for one Baruch the son of Zabbai,
saying that this man "earnestly repaired" his portion.Neh. iii. 20.
That one word "earnestly" is a truer stamp of worth
than all the honours claimed by the abstaining nobles
on grounds of rank or pedigree; it goes down the
centuries as the patent of true nobility in the realm
of industry.
CHAPTER XX.
"MARK YE WELL HER BULWARKS."
Nehemiah iii.
The Book of Nehemiah is our principal authority
for the ancient topography of Jerusalem. But,
as we have been already reminded, the sieges from
which the city has suffered, and the repeated destruction
of its walls and buildings, have obliterated many of
the old landmarks beyond recovery. In some places the
ground is now found to be raised sixty feet above the
original surface; and in one spot it was even necessary
to dig down a hundred and twenty feet to reach the
level of the old pavement. It is therefore not at all
wonderful that the attempt to identify the sites here
named should have occasioned not a little perplexity.
Still the explorations of underground Jerusalem have
brought some important facts to light, and others can
be fairly divined from a consideration of the historical
record in the light of the more general features of the
country, which no wars or works of man can alter.
The first, because the most obvious, thing to be
noted in considering the site of Jerusalem is its mountainous
character. Jerusalem is a mountain city, as
high as a Dartmoor tor, some two thousand feet above
the Mediterranean, with a drop of nearly four thousand
feet on the farther side, beyond the Mount of Olives,
towards the deep pit where the Dead Sea steams in
tropical heat. Looked at from the wilderness, through
a gap in the hills round Bethlehem, she soars above
us, with her white domes and towers clean-cut against
the burning sky, like a city of clouds. In spite of the
blazing southern sunshine, the air bites keenly on that
fine altitude. It would be only reasonable to suppose
that the vigour of the highlanders who dwelt in Jerusalem
was braced by the very atmosphere of their
home. And yet we have had to trace every impulse
of zeal and energy after the restoration to the relaxing
plains of the Euphrates and the Tigris! In all history
the moral element counts for more than the material.
Race is more than habitat; and religion is more than
race.
Closely associated with this mountainous character
of Jerusalem is a second feature. It is clear that the
site for the city was chosen because of its singularly
valuable ready-made defences. Jerusalem is a natural
fortress. Protected on three sides by deep ravines, it
would seem that she could be easily made impregnable.
How awful, then, is the irony of her destiny! This
city, so rarely favoured by nature for security against
attack, has been more often assaulted and captured,
and has suffered more of the horrors of war, than any
other spot on earth.
The next fact to be noticed is the small size of
Jerusalem. The dimensions of the city have varied in
different ages. Under the Herods the buildings extended
far beyond the ancient limits, and villas were
dotted about on the outlying hills. But in Nehemiah's
day the city was confined within a surprisingly contracted
area. The discovery of the "Siloam inscription,"
leading to the identification of the gorge known to the
Romans as the Tyropœon with the ancient "Valley of
Hinnom" or "Tophet," cuts off the whole of the modern
Zion from the site of the ancient city, and points to the
conclusion that the old Zion must have been nearer
Moriah, and all Jerusalem crowded in the little space to
the east of the chasm which was once thought to have
run up through the middle of the city. No doubt the
streets were narrow; the houses may have been high.
Still the population was but slender, for after the walls
had been built Nehemiah found the space he had
enclosed too large for the inhabitants.Neh. xi. 1.
But our
interest in Jerusalem is in no way determined by her
size, or by the number of her citizens. A little town
in a remote province, she was politically insignificant
enough when viewed from the standpoint of Babylon,
and in comparison with the many rich and populous
cities of the vast Persian dominions. It is the more
remarkable, then, that successive Persian sovereigns
should have bestowed rare favours on her. From
the day when Solomon built his temple, the unique
glory of this city had begun to appear. Josiah's
reformation in concentrating the national worship at
Jerusalem advanced her peculiar privileges, which the
rebuilding of the temple before the restoration of the
city further promoted. Jerusalem is the religious
metropolis of the world. To be first in religious honour
it was not necessary that she should be spacious or
populous. Size and numbers count for very little in
religion. Its valuation is qualitative, not quantitative.
Even the extent of its influence, even the size and mass
of this, depends mainly on its character. Moreover, in
Jerusalem, as a rule, the really effective religious life
was confined to a small group of the "pious"; sometimes
it was gathered up in a single individual—a
Jeremiah, an Ezra, a Nehemiah. This is a fact replete
with encouragement for faith. It is an instance of the
way in which God chooses the weak things—weak as
to this world—to confound the strong. If a small city
could once take the unique position held by Jerusalem,
then why should not a small Church now? And if a
little knot of earnest men within the city could be the
nucleus of her character and the source of her influence,
why should not quite a small group of earnest
people give a character to their Church, and, through
the Church, work wonders in the world, as the grain of
mustard seed could move a mountain? The secret of
the miracle is, like the secret of nature, that God is in
the city and the Church, as God is in the seed. When
once we have discovered this truth as a certain fact of
life and history, our estimate of the relative greatness of
things is revolutionised. The map and the census then
cease to answer our most pressing questions. The
excellence we look for must be spiritual—vigour of faith,
self-abnegation of love, passion of zeal.
As we follow Nehemiah round the circuit of the walls
the more special features of the city are brought under
our notice. He begins with the "Sheep Gate," which
was evidently near the temple, and the construction of
which was undertaken by the priests as the first piece
of work in the great enterprise. The name of this gate
agrees well with its situation. Opening on the Valley
of the Kidron, and facing the Mount of Olives and the
lonely pass over the hills towards Jericho, it would
be the gate through which shepherds would bring in
their flocks from the wide pasturage of the wilderness.
Possibly there was a market at the open space just
inside. The vicinity of the temple would make it easy
to bring up the victims for the sacrifices by this way.
As the Passover season approached, the whole neighbourhood
would be alive with the bleating of thousands
of lambs. Rich associations would thus cluster round
the name of this gate. It would be suggestive of the
pastoral life so much pursued by the men of Judah,
whose favourite king had been a shepherd lad; and it
would call up deeper thoughts of the mystery of sacrifice
and the joy of the Paschal redemption of Israel. To us
Christians the situation of the "Sheep Gate" has a far
more touching significance. It seems to have stood
near where the "St. Stephen's Gate" now stands; here,
then, would be the way most used by our Lord in coming
to and fro between Jerusalem and Bethany, the way by
which He went out to Gethsemane on the last night,
and probably the way by which He was brought back
"as a sheep" among her shearers, "as a lamb" led to
the slaughter.
Going round from this spot northwards, we have the
part of the wall built by the men of Jericho, which
would still look east, towards their own city, so that they
would always see their work when they got their first
glimpse of Jerusalem as they passed over the ridge of
the Mount of Olives on their pilgrimages up to the
feasts. The task of the men of Jericho ended at one
of the northern gates, the construction of which, together
with the fitting of its ponderous bolts and bars,
was considered enough for another group of builders.
This was called the "Fish Gate." Since it faced north,
it would scarcely have been used by the traders who
came up from the sea fisheries in the Mediterranean;
it must have received the fish supply from the Jordan,
and perhaps from as far as the Sea of Galilee. Still its
name suggests a wider range of commerce than the
"Sheep Gate," which let in flocks chiefly from neighbouring
hills. Jerusalem was in a singularly isolated
spot for the capital of a country, one chosen expressly
on account of its inaccessibility—the very opposite
requisite from that of most capitals, which are planted
by navigable rivers. Nevertheless she maintained communication,
both political and commercial, with distant
towns all along the ages of her chequered history.
After passing the work of one or two Jewish families
and that of the Tekoites, memorable for the painful
fact of the abstention of the nobles, we come to the
"Old Gate." That a gate should bear such a name
would lead us to think that once gates had not been so
numerous as they were at this time. Yet most probably
the "Old Gate" was really new, because very little of
the original city remained above ground. But men
love to perpetuate memories of the past. Even what is
new in fact may acquire a flavour of age by the force
of association. The wise reformer will follow the
example of Nehemiah in linking the new on to the old,
and preserving the venerable associations of antiquity
wherever these do not hinder present efficiency.
Next we come to the work of men from the northern
Benjamite towns of Gibeon and Mizpah,Neh. iii. 7.
whose volunteer
service was a mark of their own brotherly spirit. It
should be remembered, however, that Jerusalem originally
belonged to the tribe of Benjamin. Working at
the northern wall, in accordance with the rule observed
throughout that all the Jews from outlying places
should build in the direction of their own cities, these
Benjamites carried it on as far as the districts of the
goldsmiths and apothecaries,Neh. iii. 8.
whose principal bazaars
seem to have occupied the north quarter of the city—the
quarter most suitable for trade, because first reached by
most travellers. There, however—if we are to accept
the generally received emendation of the text mentioned
in the margin of the Revised Version—they found a bit
of wall that had escaped destruction, and also probably
the "Ephraim Gate," which is not named here, although
it existed in the days of Nehemiah.Neh. viii. 16.
Inasmuch as the
invasions had come from the north, and the recent
Samaritan raid had also proceeded from the same
quarter, it seems likely that the city had been taken on
this side. If so, the enemy, after having got in through
a gate which they had burnt, or through a breach in the
wall, did not think it necessary to waste time in the
heavy labour of tearing down the wall in their rear.
Perhaps as this was the most exposed quarter, the
wall was most solid here—it was known as "the broad
wall." The wealthy goldsmiths would have been
anxious that their bazaars should not be the first parts
of the city to entertain a marauding host through any
weakness in the defences. The next bit of wall was
in the hands of a man of some importance, known as
"the ruler of half the district of Jerusalem";Neh. iii. 9.
i.e., he
had the management of half the land belonging to the
city—either a sort of police supervision of private estates,
or the direct control of land owned by the municipality,
and possibly farmed for the time being on communal
principles.
Still following the northern wall, we pass the work of
several Jerusalem families, and so on to the potteries,
as we may infer from the remark about "the tower
of the furnaces."Neh. iii. 11.
Here we must be at the "Corner
Gate,"2 Chron. xxvi. 9; Jer. xxxi. 38.
which, however, is not now named; "the tower
of the furnaces" may have been part of its fortifications.
Evidently this was an important position. The manager
of the second half of the city estates and the villages
on them—known as "his daughters"—had the charge
of the work here. It was four hundred cubits from the
"Ephraim Gate" to the corner.2 Kings xiv. 13.
At this point the
long north wall ends, and the fortifications take a sharp
turn southwards. Following the new direction, we
pass by the course of the Valley of Hinnom, leaving it
on our right. The next gate we meet is named after
this ravine of evil omen the "Valley Gate." It would
be here that the poor children, victims to the savage
Moloch worship, had been led out to their fate. The
name of the gate would be a perpetual reminder of
the darkest passage in the old city's history of sin and
shame. The gate would face west, and, in accordance
with the arrangement throughout, the inhabitants of
Zanoah, a town lying out from Jerusalem ten miles in
that direction, undertook the erection of it. They also
had charge of a thousand cubits of wall—an exceptionally
long piece; but the gates were fewer on this side,
and here possibly the steepness of the cliff rendered a
slighter wall sufficient.
This long, unbroken stretch of wall ends at the "Dung
Gate," through which the refuse of the city was flung
out to the now degraded valley which once had been
so famous for its pleasure gardens. Sanitary regulations
are of course most necessary. We admire the minuteness
with which they are attended to in the Pentateuch,
and we regard the filthy condition of modern eastern
cities as a sign of neglect and decay. Still the adornment
of a grand gateway by the temple, or the solid
building of a noble approach to the city along the main
route from the north, would be a more popular undertaking
than this construction of a "Dung Gate." It is
to the credit of Nehemiah's admirable skill in organisation
that no difficulty was found in filling up the less
attractive parts of his programme, and it is even more
to the credit of those who accepted the allotment of
them that, as far as we know, they made no complaint.
A common zeal for the public good overcame personal
prejudices. The just and firm application of a universal
rule is a great preventative of complaints in such a case.
When the several bands of workers were to undertake
the districts opposite their own houses if they were
inhabitants of the city, or opposite their own towns if
they were provincial Jews, it would be difficult for any
of them to frame a complaint. The builders of the
"Dung Gate" came, it would seem, from the most
conspicuous eminence in the wilderness of Southern
Judæa—that now known as the "Frank Mountain."
The people who would take to such an out-of-the-world
place of abode would hardly be such as we should look
to for work requiring fineness of finish. Perhaps they
were more suited to the unpretentious task which fell
to their lot. Still this consideration does not detract
from the credit of their good-natured acquiescence, for
self-seeking people are the last to admit that they are
not fit for the best places.
The next gate was in a very interesting position
at the south-west corner, where the Tyropœon runs
down to the Valley of the Kidron. It was called the
"Fountain Gate," perhaps after the one natural spring
which Jerusalem possesses—that now known as the
"Virgin's Fountain," and near to the Pool of Siloam,
where the precious water from this spring was stored.
The very name of the gate would call up thoughts of
the value of its site in times of siege, when the fountain
had to be "sealed" or covered over, to save it from
being tampered with by the enemy. Close by is a
flight of steps, still extant, that formerly led down to
the king's garden. We are now near to Zion, in what
was once the favourite and most aristocratic portion of
the town. The lowering of the top of Zion in the time
of the Maccabees, that it might not overlook the temple
on Mount Moriah, and the filling up of the ravines,
considerably detract from the once imposing height of
this quarter of the city. Here ancient Jerusalem had
looked superb—like an eagle perched on a rock. With
such a fortress as Zion her short-sighted citizens had
thought her impregnable; but Nehemiah's contemporaries
were humbler and wiser men than the infatuated
Jews who had rejected the warnings of
Jeremiah.
The adjoining piece of wall brings us round to the
tombs of the kings, which, according to the custom of
antiquity, as we learn from a cuneiform inscription at
Babylon, were within the city walls, although the tombs
of less important people were outside—just as to this
day we bury our illustrious dead in the heart of the
metropolis. Nehemiah had been moved at the first
report of the ruin of Jerusalem by the thought that his
fathers' sepulchres were there.
From this spot it is not so easy to trace the remainder
of the wall. The mention of the Levites has given rise
to the opinion that Nehemiah now takes us at once to
the temple again; but this is hardly possible in view
of his subsequent statements. We must first work
round by Ophel, the "Water", the "East," and the
"Horse" Gates—all of them apparently leading out
towards the Valley of the Kidron. Levites and Priests,
whose quarters we are gradually approaching, and
other inhabitants of houses in this district, together
with people from the Jordan Valley and the east country,
carried out this last piece of work as far as a great
tower standing out between Ophel and the corner of the
temple wall, a tower so massive that some of its masonry
can be seen still standing. But the narrative is here
so obscure, and the sites have been so altered by the
ravages of war and time, that the identification of most
of them in this direction baffles inquiry.
"Mark ye well her bulwarks." Alas! they are buried
in a desolation so huge that the utmost skill of engineering
science fails to trace their course. The latest
great discovery, which has simply revolutionised the
map by identifying the Tyropœon with the Old Testament
"Valley of Hinnom" or "Tophet," is the most
striking sign of these topographical difficulties. The
valley itself has been filled up with masses of rubbish,
the sight of which to-day confirms the dreadful
tragedy of the history of Jerusalem, the most tragic
history on record. No city was ever more favoured
by Heaven, and no city was ever more afflicted. Hers
were the most magnificent endowments, the highest
ideals, the fairest promises; hers too was the most
miserable failure. Her beauty ravaged, her sanctity
defiled, her light extinguished, her joy turned into
bitterness, Heaven's bride has been treated as the scum
of the streets. And now, after being abused by her
own children, shattered by the Babylonian, outraged by
the Syrian, demolished by the Roman, the city which
stoned her prophets and clamoured successfully for the
death of her Saviour has again revived in poverty and
misery—the pale ghost of her past, still the victim of
the oppressor. The witchery of this wonderful city
fascinates us to-day, and the very syllables of her name
"Jerusalem" sound strangely sweet and ineffably sad—
"Most musical, most melancholy."
It was fitting that the tenderest, most mournful lament
ever uttered should have been called forth by our Lord's
contemplation of such a city—a city which, deeming
herself destined to be the joy of all the earth, became
the plague-spot of history.
CHAPTER XXI.
ON GUARD.
Nehemiah ii. 10, 19; iv.
All his arrangements for rebuilding the walls of
Jerusalem show that Nehemiah was awake to the
dangers with which he was surrounded. The secrecy
of his night ride was evidently intended to prevent a
premature revelation of his plans. The thorough organisation,
the mapping out of the whole line of the wall,
and the dividing of the building operations among forty-two
bands of workpeople, secured equal and rapid
progress on all sides. Evidently the idea was to "rush"
the work, and to have it fairly well advanced, so as to
afford a real protection for the citizens, before any
successful attempts to frustrate it could be carried out.
Even with all these precautions, Nehemiah was harassed
and hindered for a time by the malignant devices of
his enemies. It was only to be expected that he would
meet with opposition. But a few years before all the
Syrian colonists had united in extracting an order from
Artaxerxes for the arrest of the earlier work of building
the walls, because the Jews had made themselves
intensely obnoxious to their neighbours by sending
back the wives they had married from among the
Gentile peoples. The jealousy of Samaria, which had
taken the lead in Palestine so long as Jerusalem was in
evidence, envenomed this animosity still more. Was
it likely then that her watchful foes would hear with
equanimity of the revival of the hated city—a city which
must have seemed to them the very embodiment of the
anti-social spirit?
Now, however, since a favourite servant of the Great
King had been appointed governor of Jerusalem, the
Satrap of the Syrian provinces could scarce be expected
to interfere. Therefore the initiative fell into
the hands of smaller men, who found it necessary to
abandon the method of direct hostility, and to proceed
by means of intrigues and ambuscades. There were
three who made themselves notorious in this undignified
course of procedure. Two of them are mentioned in
connection with the journey of Nehemiah up to Jerusalem.Neh. ii. 10.
The first, the head of the whole opposition,
is Sanballat, who is called the Horonite, seemingly
because he is a native of one of the Beth-horons, and
who appears to be the governor of the city of Samaria,
although this is not stated. Throughout the history
he comes before us repeatedly as the foe of the rival
governor of Jerusalem. Next to him comes Tobiah, a
chief of the little trans-Jordanic tribe of the Ammonites,
some of whom had got into Samaria in the strange
mixing up of peoples after the Babylonian conquest.
He is called the servant, possibly because he once held
some post at court, and if so he may have been personally
jealous of Nehemiah's promotion.
Sanballat and his supporter Tobiah were subsequently
joined by an Arabian Emir named Geshem.
His presence in the group of conspirators would be
surprising if we had not been unexpectedly supplied
with the means of accounting for it in the recently
deciphered inscription which tells how Sargon imported
an Arabian colony into Samaria. The Arab would
scent prey in the project of a warlike expedition.
The opposition proceeded warily. At first we are
only told that when Sanballat and his friend Tobiah
heard of the coming of Nehemiah, "it grieved them
exceedingly that there was come a man to seek the
welfare of the children of Israel."Neh. ii. 10.
In writing these
caustic words Nehemiah implies that the jealous men
had no occasion to fear that he meant any harm to
them, and that they knew this. It seems very hard to
him, then, that they should begrudge any alleviation of
the misery of the poor citizens of Jerusalem. What
was that to them? Jealousy might foresee the
possibility of future loss from the recovery of the rival
city, and in this they might find the excuse for their
action, an excuse for not anticipating which so fervent
a patriot as Nehemiah may be forgiven; nevertheless
the most greedy sense of self-interest on the part of
these men is lost sight of in the virulence of their hatred
to the Jews. This is always the case with that cruel
infatuation—the Anti-Semitic rage. Here it is that
hatred passes beyond mere anger. Hatred is actually
pained at the welfare of its object. It suffers from a
Satanic misery. The venom which it fails to plant in
its victim rankles in its own breast.
At first we only hear of this odious distress of the
jealous neighbours. But the prosecutions of Nehemiah's
immediately lead to a manifestation of open
hostility—verbal in the beginning. No sooner had the
Jews made it evident that they were responsive to
their leader's appeal and intended to rise and build, than
they were assailed with mockery. The Samaritan and
Ammonite leaders were now joined by the Arabian, and
together they sent a message of scorn and contempt,
asking the handful of poor Jews whether they were
fortifying the city in order to rebel against the king.
The charge of a similar intention had been the cause
of stopping the work on the previous occasion.Ezra iv. 13.
Now that Artaxerxes' favourite cup-bearer was at the
head of affairs, any suspicion of treason was absurd;
but since hatred is singularly blind—far more blind
than love—it is barely possible that the malignant
mockers hoped to raise a suspicion. On the other hand,
there is no evidence to show that they followed the
example of the previous opposition and reported to
headquarters. For the present they seem to have
contented themselves with bitter raillery. This is a
weapon before which weak men too often give way.
But Nehemiah was not so foolish as to succumb beneath
a shower of poor, ill-natured jokes.
His answer is firm and dignified.Neh. ii. 20.
It contains three
assertions. The first is the most important. Nehemiah
is not ashamed to confess the faith which is the source
of all his confidence. In the eyes of men the Jews
may appear but a feeble folk, quite unequal to the task
of holding their ground in the midst of a swarm of angry
foes. If Nehemiah had only taken account of the political
and military aspects of affairs, he might have shrunk
from proceeding. But it is just the mark of his true
greatness that he always has his eye fixed on a Higher
Power. He knows that God is in the project, and
therefore he is sure that it must prosper. When a
man can reach this conviction, mockery and insult do
not move him. He has climbed to a serene altitude,
from which he can look down with equanimity on the
boiling clouds that are now far beneath his feet.
Having this sublime ground of confidence, Nehemiah is
able to proceed to his second point—his assertion of the
determination of the Jews to arise and build. This is
quite positive and absolute. The brave man states it,
too, in the clearest possible language. Now the work
is about to begin there is to be no subterfuge or
disguise. Nehemiah's unflinching determination is
based on the religious confession that precedes it. The
Jews are God's servants; they are engaged in His
work; they know He will prosper them; therefore they
most certainly will not stay their hand for all the
gibes and taunts of their neighbours. Lastly, Nehemiah
contemptuously repudiates the claim of these impertinent
intruders to interfere in the work of the Jews; he tells
them that they have no excuse for their meddling, for
they own no property in Jerusalem, they have no right
of citizenship or of control from without, and there are
no tombs of their ancestors in the sacred city.
In this message of Nehemiah's we seem to hear an
echo of the old words with which the temple-builders
rejected the offer of assistance from the Samaritans, and
which were the beginning of the whole course of jealous
antagonism on the part of the irritated neighbours.
But the circumstances are entirely altered. It is not a
friendly offer of co-operation, but its very opposite, a
hostile and insulting message designed to hinder the
Jews, that is here so proudly resented. In the reply of
Nehemiah we hear the Church refusing to bend to the
will of the world, because the world has no right to
trespass on her territory. God's work is not to be
tampered with by insolent meddlers. Jewish exclusiveness
is painfully narrow, at least in our estimation of
it, when it refuses to welcome strangers or to recognise
the good that lies outside the sacred enclosure; but
this same characteristic becomes a noble quality, with
high ethical and religious aims, when it firmly refuses
to surrender its duty to God at the bidding of the outside
world. The Christian can scarcely imitate Nehemiah's
tone and temper in this matter; and yet if he is loyal
to his God he will feel that he must be equally decided
and uncompromising in declining to give up any part of
what he believes to be his service of Christ to please
men who unhappily as yet have "no part, or right, or
memorial" in the New Jerusalem; although, unlike the
Jew of old, he will be only too glad that all men should
come in and share his privileges.
After receiving an annoying answer it was only natural
that the antagonistic neighbours of the Jews should be
still more embittered in their animosity. At the first
news of his coming to befriend the children of Israel, as
Nehemiah says, Sanballat and Tobiah were grieved; but
when the building operations were actually in process
the Samaritan leader passed from vexation to rage—"he
was wroth and took great indignation."Neh. iv. 1.
This
man now assumed the lead in opposition to the Jews.
His mockery became more bitter and insulting. In
this he was joined by his friend the Ammonite, who
declared that if only one of the foxes that prowl on the
neighbouring hills were to jump upon the wall the
creature would break it down.Neh. iv. 3.
Perhaps he had
received a hint from some of his spies that the new
work that had been so hastily pressed forward was not
any too solid. The "Palestine Exploration Fund" has
brought to light the foundations of what is believed to
be a part of Nehemiah's wall at Ophel, and the base of
it is seen to be of rubble, not founded on the rock, but
built on the clay above, so that it has been possible to
drive a mine under it from one side to the other—a
rough piece of work, very different from the beautifully
finished temple walls.Conder, "Bible Geography," p. 131
Nehemiah met the renewed shower of insults in a
startling manner. He cursed his enemies.Neh. iv. 4.
Deploring
before God the contempt that was heaped on the Jews,
he prayed that the reproach of the enemies might be
turned on their own head, devoted them to the horrors
of a new captivity, and even went so far as to beg
that no atonement might be found for their iniquity,
that their sin might not be blotted out. In a word,
instead of himself forgiving his enemies, he besought
that they might not be forgiven by God. We shudder
as we read his terrible words. This is not the Christ
spirit. It is even contrary to the less merciful spirit of
the Old Testament. Yet, to be just to Nehemiah, we
must consider the whole case. It is most unfair to
tear his curse out of the history and gibbet it as a
specimen of Jewish piety. Even strong men who will
not give way before ridicule may feel its stabs—for
strength is not inconsistent with sensitiveness. Evidently
Nehemiah was irritated; but then he was much
provoked. For the moment he lost his self-possession.
We must remember that the strain of his great undertaking
was most exhausting, and we must be patient
with the utterances of one so sorely tried. If lethargic
people criticise adversely the hasty utterances of a more
intense nature, they forget that, though they may never
lose their self-control, neither do they ever rouse themselves
to the daring energy of the man whose failings
they blame. Then it was not any personal insults
hurled against himself that Nehemiah resented so
fiercely. It was his work that the Samaritans were
trying to hinder. This he believed to be really God's
work, so that the insults offered to the Jews were also
directed against God, who must have been angry also.
We cannot justify the curse by the standard of the
Christian law; but it is not reasonable to apply that
standard to it. We must set it by the side of the
Maledictory Psalms. From the standpoint of its author
it can be fully accounted for. To say that even in this
way it can be defended, however, is to go too far. We
have no occasion to persuade ourselves that any of the
Old Testament saints were immaculate, even in the
light of Judaism. Nehemiah was a great and good
man, yet he was not an Old Testament Christ.
But now more serious opposition was to be encountered.
Such enemies as those angry men of
Samaria were not likely to be content with venting
their spleen in idle mockery. When they saw that the
keenest shafts of their wit failed to stop the work of
the citizens of Jerusalem, Sanballat and his friends
found it necessary to proceed to more active measures,
and accordingly they entered into a conspiracy for the
double purpose of carrying on actual warfare and of
intriguing with disaffected citizens of Jerusalem—"to
cause confusion therein."Neh. iv. 8, 11.
Nehemiah was too observant
and penetrating a statesman not to become
aware of what was going on; the knowledge that the
plots existed revealed the extent of his danger, and
compelled him to make active preparations for thwarting
them. We may notice several important points in
the process of the defence.
1. Prayer.—This was the first, and in Nehemiah's
mind the most essential defensive measure. We find
him resorting to it in every important juncture of his
life. It is his sheet-anchor. But now he uses the
plural number. Hitherto we have met only with his
private prayers. In the present case he says, "We
made our prayer unto our God."Neh. iv. 9.
Had the infection
of his prayerful spirit reached his fellow-citizens,
so that they now shared it? Was it that the
imminence of fearful danger drove to prayer men
who under ordinary circumstances forgot their need of
God? Or were both influences at work? However
it was brought about, this association in prayer of some
of the Jews with their governor must have been the
greatest comfort to him, as it was the best ground for
the hope that God would not now let them fall into
the hands of the enemy. Hitherto there had been a
melancholy solitariness about the earnest devotion of
Nehemiah. The success of his mission began to show
itself when the citizens began to participate in the same
spirit of devotion.
2. Watchfulness.—Nehemiah was not the fanatic to
blunder into the delusion that prayer was a substitute
for duty, instead of being its inspiration. All that
followed the prayer was really based upon it. The
calmness, hope, and courage won in the high act of
communion with God made it possible to take the
necessary steps in the outer world. Since the greatest
danger was not expected as an open assault, it was
most necessary that an unbroken watch should be
maintained, day and night. Nehemiah had spies out
in the surrounding country, who reported to him
every planned attack. So thorough was this system
of espionage, that though no less than ten plots were
concocted by the enemy, they were all discovered to
Nehemiah, and all frustrated by him.
3. Encouragement.—The Jews were losing heart.
The men of Judah came to Nehemiah with the complaint
that the labourers who were at work on the
great heaps of rubbish were suffering from exhaustion.
The reduction in the numbers of workmen,
owing to the appointment of the guard, would have
still further increased the strain of those who were
left to toil among the mounds. But it would have
been fatal to draw back at this juncture. That would
have been to invite the enemy to rush in and complete
the discomfiture of the Jews. On Nehemiah came the
obligation of cheering the dispirited citizens. Even
the leading men, who should have rallied the people,
like officers at the head of their troops, shared the
general depression. Nehemiah was again alone—or at
best supported by the silent sympathy of his companions
in prayer. There was very nearly a panic;
and for one man to stand out under such circumstances
as these in solitary courage, not only resisting the strong
contagion of fear, but stemming the tide and counteracting
its movement, this would be indeed the sublimity
of heroism. It was a severe test for Nehemiah; and
he came out of it triumphant. His faith was the inspiration
of his own courage, and it became the ground
for the encouragement of others. He addressed the
people and their nobles in a spirited appeal. First, he
exhorted them to banish fear. The very tone of his
voice must have been reassuring; the presence of one
brave man in a crowd of cowards often shames them
out of their weakness. But Nehemiah proceeded to
give reasons for his encouragement. Let the men
remember their God Jehovah, how great and terrible
He is! The cause is His, and His might and terror
will defend it. Let them think of their people and their
families, and fight for brethren and children, for wives
and homes! Cowardice is unbelief and selfishness
combined. Trust in God and a sense of duty to others
will master the weakness.
4. Arms.—Nehemiah gave the first place to the spiritual
and moral defences of Jerusalem. Yet his material
defences were none the less thorough on account of
his prayers to God or his eloquent exhortation of the
people and their leaders. They were most complete.
His arrangements for the military protection of
Jerusalem converted the whole city into an armed
camp. Half the citizens in turn were to leave their
work, and stand at arms with swords and spears and
bows. Even in the midst of the building operations
the clatter of weapons was heard among the stones,
because the masons at work on the walls and the
labourers while they poised on their heads baskets full
of rubbish from the excavations had swords attached
to their sashes. Residents of the suburbs were required
to stay in the city instead of returning home for
the night, and no man could put off a single article of
clothing when he lay down to sleep. Nor was this
martial array deemed sufficient without some special
provision against a surprise. Nehemiah therefore
went about with a trumpeter, ready to summon all
hands to any point of danger on the first alarm.
Still, though the Jews were hampered with these
preparations for battle, tired with toil and watching,
and troubled by dreadful apprehensions, the work
went on. This is a great proof of the excellency of
Nehemiah's generalship. He did not sacrifice the
building to the fighting. The former was itself
designed to produce a permanent defence, while the
arms were only for temporary use. When the walls
were up the citizens could give the laugh back to their
foes. But in itself the very act of working was reassuring.
Idleness is a prey to fears which industry
has no time to entertain. Every man who tries to do
his duty as a servant of God is unconsciously building
a wall about himself that will be his shelter in the hour
of peril.
CHAPTER XXII.
USURY.
Nehemiah v.
We open the fifth chapter of "Nehemiah" with a
shock of pain. The previous chapter described
a scene of patriotic devotion in which nearly all the
people were united for the prosecution of one great
purpose. There we saw the priests and the wealthy
citizens side by side with their humble brethren engaged
in the common task of building the walls of
Jerusalem and guarding the city against assault. The
heartiness with which the work was first undertaken,
the readiness of all classes to resume it after temporary
discouragements, and the martial spirit shown by the
whole population in standing under arms in the prosecution
of it, determined to resist any interference from
without, were all signs of a large-minded zeal in which
we should have expected private interests to have given
place to the public necessities of the hour. But now
we are compelled to look at the seamy side of city
life. In the midst of the unavoidable toils and
dangers occasioned by the animosity of the Samaritans,
miserable internal troubles had broken out among the
Jews; and the perplexing problems which seem to be
inseparable from the gathering together of a number of
people under any known past or present social system
had developed in the most acute form. The gulf between
the rich and the poor had widened ominously; for
while the poor had been driven to the last extremity,
their more fortunate fellow-citizens had taken a monstrously
cruel advantage of their helplessness. Famine-stricken
men and women not only cried to Nehemiah
for the means of getting corn for themselves and their
families; they had a complaint to make against their
brethren. Some had lost their lands after mortgaging
them to rich Jews. Others had even been forced by
the money-lenders to sell their sons and daughters into
slavery. They must have been on the brink of starvation
before resorting to such an unnatural expedient.
How wonderfully, then, do they exhibit the patience of
the poor in their endurance of these agonies! There
were no bread-riots. The people simply appealed to
Nehemiah, who had already proved himself their disinterested
friend, and who, as governor, was responsible
for the welfare of the city.
It is not difficult to see how it came about that many
of the citizens of Jerusalem were in this desperate
plight. In all probability most of Zerubbabel's and
Ezra's pilgrims had been in humble circumstances.
It is true successive expeditions had gone up with
contributions to the Jerusalem colony; but most of the
stores they had conveyed had been devoted to public
works, and even anything that may have been distributed
among the citizens could only have afforded
temporary relief. War utterly paralyses industry
and commerce. In Judæa the unsettled state of the
country must have seriously impeded agricultural and
pastoral occupations. Then the importation of corn
into Jerusalem would be almost impossible while roving
enemies were on the watch in the open country, so that
the price of bread would rise as a result of scarcity.
At the same time the presence of persons from the
outlying towns would increase the number of mouths
to be fed within the city. Moreover, the attention
given to the building of the walls and the defence
of Jerusalem from assault would prevent artisans and
tradesmen from following the occupations by which
they usually earned their living. Lastly, the former
governors had impoverished the population by exacting
grievously heavy tribute. The inevitable result of all
this was debt and its miserable consequences.
Just as in the early history of Athens and later at
Rome, the troubles to the state arising from the condition
of the debtors were now of the most serious
character. Nothing disorganises society more hopelessly
than bad arrangements with respect to debts and
poverty. Nehemiah was justly indignant when the
dreadful truth was made known to him. We may
wonder why he had not discovered it earlier, since he
had been going in and out among the people. Was
there a certain aloofness in his attitude? His lonely
night ride suggests something of the kind. In any
case his absorbing devotion to his one task of rebuilding
the city walls could have left him little leisure for
other interests. The man who is engaged in a grand
scheme for the public good is frequently the last to
notice individual cases of need. The statesman is in
danger of ignoring the social condition of the people
in the pursuit of political ends. It used to be
the mistake of most governments that their foreign
policy absorbed their attention to the neglect of home
interests.
Nehemiah was not slow in recognising the public
need, when it was brought under his notice by the cry of
the distressed debtors. According to the truly modern
custom of his time in Jerusalem, he called a public
meeting, explained the whole situation, and appealed
to the creditors to give back the mortgaged lands and
remit the interest on their loans. This was agreed to
at once, the popular conscience evidently approving of
the proposal. Nehemiah, however, was not content to
let the matter rest here. He called the priests, and
put them on their oath to see that the promise of the
creditors was carried out. This appeal to the priesthood
is very significant. It shows how rapidly the
government was tending towards a sacerdotal theocracy.
But it is important to notice that it was a social and
not a purely political matter in which Nehemiah looked
to the priests. The social order of the Jews was more
especially bound up with their religion, or rather with
their law and its regulations, while as yet questions of
quasi-foreign policy were freely relegated to the purely
civil authorities, the heads of families, the nobles, and
the supreme governor under the Persian administration.
Nehemiah followed the example of the ancient prophets
in his symbolical method of denouncing any of the
creditors who would not keep the promise he had extracted
from them. Shaking out his mantle, as though
to cast off whatever had been wrapped in its folds, he
exclaimed, "So God shake out every man from his house,
and from his labour, that performeth not this promise;
even thus be he shaken out, and emptied."Neh. v. 13.
This was
virtually a threat of confiscation and excommunication.
Yet the Ecclesia gladly assented, crying "Amen" and
praising the Lord.
The extreme position here taken up by Nehemiah
and freely conceded by the people may seem to us
unreasonable unless we have considered all the circumstances.
Nehemiah denounced the conduct of the
money-lenders as morally wrong. "The thing that ye
do is not good," he said. It was opposed to the will
of God. It provoked the reproach of the heathen. It
was very different from his own conduct, in redeeming
captives and supporting the poor out of his private
means. Now, wherein was the real evil of the conduct
of these creditors? The primitive law of the "Covenant"
forbad the Jews to take interest for loans among their
brethren.Exod. xxii. 25.
But why so? Is there not a manifest
convenience in the arrangements by which those people
who possess a superfluity may lend to those who are temporarily
embarrassed? If no interest is to be paid for
such loans, is it to be expected that rich people will run
the risk and put themselves to the certain inconvenience
they involve? The man who saves generally does so
in order that his savings may be of advantage to him.
If he consents to defer the enjoyment of them, must not
this be for some consideration? In proportion as the
advantages of saving are reduced the inducements to
save will be diminished, and then the available lending
fund of the community will be lessened, so that fewer
persons in need of temporary accommodation will be able
to receive it. From another point of view, may it not
be urged that if a man obtains the assistance of a loan
he should be as willing to pay for it as he would be to
pay for any other distinct advantage? He does not
get the convenience of a coach-ride for nothing: why
should he not expect to pay anything for a lift along
a difficult bit of his financial course? Sometimes
a loan may be regarded as an act of partnership. The
tradesman who has not sufficient capital to carry on his
business borrows from a neighbour who possesses
money which he desires to invest. Is not this an
arrangement in which lending at interest is mutually
advantageous? In such a case the lender is really a
sort of "sleeping partner," and the interest he receives
is merely his share in the business, because it is the
return which has come back to him through the use of
his money. Where is the wrong of such a transaction?
Even when the terms are more hard on the debtor,
may it not be urged that he does not accept them
blindfold? He knows what he is doing when he takes
upon himself the obligations of his debt and its accompanying
interest; he willingly enters into the bond,
believing that it will be for his own advantage. How
then can he be regarded as the victim of cruelty?
This is one side of the subject, and it is not to be
denied that it exhibits a considerable amount of truth
from its own point of view. Even on this ground,
however, it may be doubted whether the advantages of
the debtor are as great as they are represented. The
system of carrying on business by means of borrowed
capital is answerable for much of the strain and anxiety
of modern life, and not a little of the dishonesty to
which traders are now tempted when hard pressed.
The offer of "temporary accommodation" is inviting,
but it may be questioned whether this is not more often
than not a curse to those who accept it. Very frequently
it only postpones the evil day. Certainly it is
not found that the multiplication of "pawn-shops"
tends to the comfort and well-being of the people
among whom they spring up, and possibly, if we could
look behind the scenes, we should discover that lending
agencies in higher commercial circles were not much
more beneficial to the community.
Still, it may be urged, even if the system of borrowing
and lending is often carried too far, there are cases
in which it is manifestly beneficial. The borrower may
be really helped over a temporary difficulty. In a
time of desperate need he may even be saved from
starvation. This is not to be denied. We must look
at the system as a whole, however, rather than only
at its favourable instances.
The strength of the case for lending money at
interest rests upon certain plain laws of "Political
Economy." Now it is absurd to denounce the science
of "Political Economy" as "diabolical." No science
can be either good or bad, for by its nature all science
deals only with truth and knowledge. We do not talk
of the morality of chemistry. The facts may be reprehensible;
but the scientific co-ordination of them, the
discovery of the principles which govern them, cannot
be morally culpable. Nevertheless "Political Economy"
is only a science on the ground of certain pre-suppositions.
Remove those pre-suppositions, and the whole
fabric falls to the ground. It is not then morally condemned;
it is simply inapplicable, because its data
have disappeared. Now one of the leading data of
this science is the principle of self-interest. It is
assumed throughout that men are simply producing
and trading for their own advantage. If this assumption
is allowed, the laws and their results follow with
the iron necessity of fate. But if the self-seeking
principle can be removed, and a social principle be
made to take its place, the whole process will be
altered. We see this happening with Nehemiah, who is
willing to lend free of interest. In his case the strong
pleas for the reasonableness, for the very necessity
of the other system fall to the ground. If the contagion
of his example were universal, we should have
to alter our books of "Political Economy," and write
on the subject from the new standpoint of brotherly
kindness.
We have not yet reached the bottom of this question.
It may still be urged that, though it was very gracious
of Nehemiah to act as he did, it was not therefore culpable
in others who failed to share his views and means
not to follow suit. In some cases the lender might be
depending for a livelihood on the produce of his loans.
If so, were he to decline to exact it, he himself would be
absolutely impoverished. We must meet this position
by taking into account the actual results of the money-lending
system practised by the Jews in Jerusalem in
the days of Nehemiah. The interest was high—"the
hundredth part of the money"Neh. v. 11.
—i.e., with the monthly
payments usual in the East, equivalent to twelve per cent.
annual interest. Then those who could not pay this
interest, having already pledged their estates, forfeited
the property. A wise regulation of Deuteronomy—unhappily
never practised—had required the return
of mortgaged land every seven years.Deut. xv. 1-6.
This merciful
regulation was evidently intended to prevent the accumulation
of large estates in the hands of rich men
who would "add field to field" in a way denounced by
the prophets with indignation.E.g., Isa. v. 8.
Thus the tendency
to inequality of lots would be avoided, and temporary
embarrassment could not lead to the permanent ruin of
a man and his children after him. It was felt, too, that
there was a sacred character in the land, which was the
Lord's possession. It was not possible for a man to
whom a portion had been allotted to wholly alienate it; for
it was not his to dispose of, it was only his to hold. This
mystical thought would help to maintain a sturdy race
of peasants—Naboth, for example—who would feel
their duty to their land to be of a religious nature,
and who would therefore be elevated and strengthened
in character by the very possession of it. All these
advantages were missed by the customs that were
found to be prevalent in the time of Nehemiah.
Far worse than the alienation of their estates was the
selling of their children by the hard-pressed creditors.
An ancient law of rude times recognised the fact and
regulated it in regard to daughters;Exod. xxi. 7.
but it is not easy
to see how in an age of civilisation any parents possessed
of natural feeling could bring themselves to consent
to such a barbarity. That some did so is a proof
of the morally degrading effect of absolute penury.
When the wolf is at the door, the hungry man himself
becomes wolfish. The horrible stories of mothers
in besieged cities boiling and eating their own children
can only be accounted for by some such explanation as
this. Here we have the severest condemnation of the
social system which permits of the utter destitution of
a large portion of the community. It is most hurtful
to the characters of its victims; it de-humanises them,
it reduces them to the level of beasts.
Did Ezra's stern reformation prepare the way for
this miserable condition of affairs? He had dared to
tamper with the most sacred domestic ties. He had
attacked the sanctities of the home. May we suppose
that one result of his success was to lower the sense
of home duties, and even to stifle the deepest natural
affections? This is at least a melancholy possibility,
and it warns us of the danger of any invasion of family
claims and duties by the Church or the State.
Now it was in face of the terrible misery of the
Jews that Nehemiah denounced the whole practice of
usury which was the root of it. He was not contemplating
those harmless commercial transactions by
which, in our day, capital passes from one hand to
another in a way of business that may be equally
advantageous to borrower and lender. All he saw was
a state of utter ruin—land alienated from its old families,
boys and girls sold into slavery, and the unfortunate
debtors, in spite of all their sacrifices, still on the brink
of starvation. In view of such a frightful condition, he
naturally denounced the whole system that led to it.
What else could he have done? This was no time for
a nice discrimination between the use and the abuse of
the system. Nehemiah saw nothing but abuse in it.
Moreover, it was not in accordance with the Hebrew
way ever to draw fine distinctions. If a custom was
found to be working badly, that custom was reprobated
entirely; no attempt was made to save from the wreck
any good elements that might have been discovered in
it by a cool scientific analysis. In The Law, therefore,
as well as in the particular cases dealt with by Nehemiah,
lending at interest among Jews was forbidden,
because as usually practised it was a cruel, hurtful
practice. Nehemiah even refers to lending on a pledge,
without mentioning the interest, as an evil thing, because
it was taken for granted that usury went with it.Neh. v. 7, 10, where instead of "usury" (A.V.) we should read
"pledge."
But that usury was not thought to be morally wrong
in itself we may learn from the fact that Jews were
permitted by their law to practise it with foreigners,Deut. xv. 3-6.
while they were not allowed to do any really wrong
thing to them. This distinction between the treatment
of the Jew and that of the Gentile throws some light
on the question of usury. It shows that the real
ground of condemnation was that the practice was contrary
to brotherhood. Since then Christianity enlarges
the field of brotherhood, the limits of exactions are proportionately
extended. There are many things that we
cannot do to a man when we regard him as a brother,
although we should have had no compunction in performing
them before we had owned the close relationship.
We see then that what Nehemiah and the Jewish
law really condemned was not so much the practice of
taking interest in the abstract as the carrying on of
cruel usury among brothers. The evil that lies in that
also appears in dealings that are not directly financial.
The world thinks of the Jew too much as of a Shylock
who makes his money breed by harsh exactions
practised on Christians. But when Christians grow
rich by the ill-requited toil of their oppressed fellow-Christians,
when they exact more than their pound of
flesh, when drop by drop they squeeze the very life-blood
out of their victims, they are guilty of the
abomination of usury—in a new form, but with few of
its evils lightened. To take advantage of the helpless
condition of a fellow-man is exactly the wickedness
denounced by Nehemiah in the heartless rich men of
his day. It is no excuse for this that we are within
our rights. It is not always right to insist upon our
rights. What is legally innocent may be morally
criminal. It is even possible to get through a court of
justice what is nothing better than a theft in the sight
of Heaven. It can never be right to push any one
down to his ruin.
But, it may be said, the miserable man brought his
trouble upon himself by his own recklessness. Be it
so. Still he is our brother, and we should treat him as
such. We may think we are under no obligation to
follow the example of Nehemiah, who refused his pay
from the impoverished citizens, redeemed Israelites
from slavery in foreign lands, lent money free of interest,
and entertained a number of Jews at his table—all
out of the savings of his old courtier days at
Susa. And yet a true Christian cannot escape from
the belief that there is a real obligation lying on him
to imitate this royal bounty as far as his means permit.
The law in Deuteronomy commanded the Israelite
to lend willingly to the needy, and not harden his heart
or shut up his hands from his "poor brother."Deut. xv. 7, 8.
Our
Lord goes further, for He distinctly requires His
disciples to lend when they do not expect that the loan
will ever be returned—"If ye lend to them of whom ye
hope to receive," He asks, "what thanks have ye? even
sinners lend to sinners, to receive again as much."Luke vi. 34.
And St. Paul is thinking of no work of supererogation
when he writes, "Bear ye one another's burdens, and
so fulfil the law of Christ."Gal. vi. 2.
Yet if somebody suggests
that these precepts should be taken seriously and put
in practice to-day, he is shouted down as a fanatic.
Why is this? Will Christ be satisfied with less than
His own requirements?
CHAPTER XXIII.
WISE AS SERPENTS.
Nehemiah vi.
Open opposition had totally failed. The watchful
garrison had not once permitted a surprise. In
spite of the persistent malignity of his enemies,
Nehemiah had raised the walls all round the city till
not a breach remained anywhere. The doors had yet
to be hung at the great gateways, but the fortification
of Jerusalem had proceeded so far that it was hopeless
for the enemy to attempt any longer to hinder it by
violence. Accordingly the leading antagonists changed
their tactics. They turned from force to fraud—a
method of strategy which was a confession of weakness.
The antagonism to the Jews was now in a very
different position from that which it had attained before
Nehemiah had appeared on the scene, and when all
Syria was moved and Artaxerxes himself won over
to the Samaritan view. It had no support from the
Satrap. It was directly against the policy sanctioned
by the king. In its impotence it was driven to adopt
humiliating devices of cunning and deceit; and even
these expedients proved to be ineffectual. It has been
well remarked that the rustic tricksters from Samaria
were no match for a trained courtier. Nehemiah easily
detected the clumsy snares that were set to entrap him.
Thus he illustrates that wisdom of the serpent which
our Lord commends to His disciples as a useful weapon
for meeting the temptations and dangers they must be
prepared to encounter. The serpent, repulsive and
noxious, the common symbol of sin, to some the very
incarnation of the devil, was credited with a quality
worthy of imitation by One who could see the "soul of
goodness in things evil." The subtlety of the keen-eyed,
sinuous beast appeared to Him in the light of a
real excellence, which should be rescued from its degradation
in the crawling reptile and set to a worthy
use. He rejoiced in the revelation made to babes;
but it would be an insult to the children whom He set
before us as the typical members of the kingdom of
heaven to mistake this for a benediction of stupidity.
The fact is, dulness is often nothing but the result
of indolence; it often comes from negligence in the
cultivation of faculties God has given to men more
generously than they will acknowledge. Surely, true
religion, since it consists in a Divine life, must bring
vitality to the whole man, and thus quicken the intellect
as well as the heart. St. James refers to the highest
wisdom as a gift which God bestows liberally and
without upbraiding on those who ask for it.James i. 5.
Our
plain duty, therefore, is not to permit ourselves to be
befooled to our ruin.
But when we compare the wisdom of Nehemiah with
the cunning of his enemies we notice a broad distinction
between the two qualities. Sanballat and his fellow-conspirator,
the Arab Geshem, condescend to the meanness
of deceit: they try to allure their victim into their
power; they invite him to trust himself to their
hospitality while intending to reward his confidence
with treachery; they concoct false reports to blacken
the reputation of the man whom they dare not openly
attack; with diabolical craft one of their agents endeavours
to tempt Nehemiah to an act of cowardice that
would involve apparently a culpable breach of religious
propriety, in order that his influence may be undermined
by the destruction of his reputation. From beginning
to end this is all a policy of lies. On the other hand,
there is not a shadow of insincerity in Nehemiah's
method of frustrating it. He uses his keen intelligence
in discovering the plots of his foes; he never degrades
it by weaving counterplots. In the game of diplomacy
he outwits his opponents at every stage. If he would
lend himself to their mendacious methods, he might
turn them round his finger. But he will do nothing
of the kind. One after another he breaks up the
petty schemes of the dishonest men who continue
to worry him with their devices, and quietly hands
them back the fragments, to their bitter chagrin.
His replies are perfectly frank; his policy is clear
as the day. Wise as the serpent, he is harmless
as the dove. A man of astounding discernment, he
is nevertheless "an Israelite indeed, in whom there
is no guile."
The first proposal had danger written on the face of
it, and the persistence with which so lame a device was
repeated does not do much credit to the ingenuity of
the conspirators. Their very malignity seems to have
blinded them to the fact that they were not deceiving
Nehemiah. Perhaps they thought that he would yield
to sheer importunity. Their suggestion was that he
should come out of Jerusalem and confer with Sanballat
and his friends some miles away in the plain of Sharon.At Ono. This place has not yet been found. It cannot well be
Beit Unia, north-west of Jerusalem, near Beitin (Bethel). Its
association with Lod (Lydda) in 1 Chron. viii. 12 and Neh. xi. 35,
points to the neighbourhood of the latter place.
The Jews were known to be hard-pressed, weary, and
famine-stricken, and any overtures that promised an
amicable settlement, or even a temporary truce, might
be viewed acceptably by the anxious governor on
whose sole care the social troubles of the citizens as
well as the military protection of the city depended.
Very likely information gleaned from spies within
Jerusalem guided the conspirators in choosing the
opportunities for their successive overtures. These
would seem most timely when the social troubles of the
Jews were most serious. In another way the invitation
to a parley might be thought attractive to Nehemiah.
It would appeal to his nobler feelings. A generous
man is unwilling to suspect the dishonesty of his
neighbours.
But Nehemiah was not caught by the "confidence
trick." He knew the conspirators intended to do him
mischief. Yet as this intention was not actually proved
against them, he put no accusation into his reply. The
inference from it was clear enough. But the message
itself could not be construed into any indication of
discourtesy. Nehemiah was doing a great work.
Therefore he could not come down. This was a
perfectly genuine answer. For the governor to have
left Jerusalem at the present crisis would have been
disastrous to the city. The conspirators then tried
another plan for getting Nehemiah to meet them outside
Jerusalem. They pretended that it was reported
that his work in fortifying the city was carried on with
the object of rebelling against the Persian government,
and that this report had gone so far as to convey the
impression that he had induced prophets to preach his
kingship. Some such suspicion had been hinted at
before, at the time of Nehemiah's coming up to
Jerusalem,Neh. ii. 19.
but then its own absurdity had prevented
it from taking root. Now the actual appearance of
the walls round the once ruinous city, and the rising
reputation of Nehemiah as a man of resource and
energy, might give some colour to the calumny. The
point of the conspirators' device, however, is not to be
found in the actual spreading of the dangerous rumour,
but in the alarm to be suggested to Nehemiah by the
thought that it was being spread. Nehemiah would
know very well how much mischief is wrought by idle
and quite groundless talk. The libel may be totally
false, and yet it may be impossible for its victim to
follow it up and clear his character in every nook and
cranny to which it penetrates. A lie, like a weed, if
it is not nipped in the bud, sheds seeds which every
wind of gossip will spread far and wide, so that it soon
becomes impossible to stamp it out.
In their effort to frighten Nehemiah the conspirators
suggested that the rumour would reach the king.
They as much as hinted that they would undertake
the business of reporting it themselves if he would not
come to terms with them. This was an attempt at
extracting blackmail. Having failed in their appeal to
his generous instincts, the conspirators tried to work
on his fears. For any one of less heroic mind than
Nehemiah their diabolical threat would have been
overwhelmingly powerful. Even he could not but feel
the force of it. It calls to mind the last word of the
Jews that determined Pilate to surrender Jesus to the
death he knew was not merited: "If thou let this Man
go, thou art not Cæsar's friend." The suspicion that
always haunts the mind of an autocratic sovereign gives
undue weight to any charges of treason. Artaxerxes
was not a Tiberius. But the good-natured monarch
was liable to persuasion. Nehemiah must have had
occasion to witness many instances of the fatal consequences
of royal displeasure. Could he rely on the
continuance of his master's favour now he was far from
the court, while lying tongues were trying to poison the
ears of the king? Before first speaking of his project
for helping his people, he had trembled at the risk he
was about to incur; how then could he now learn
with equanimity that a cruelly mendacious representation
of it was being made to Artaxerxes? His
sense of the gravity of the situation is seen in the way
in which he met it. Nehemiah indignantly repudiated
the charge. He boldly asserted that it had been
invented by the conspirators. To them he showed
an unwavering front. But we are able to look behind
the scenes. It is one advantage of this autobiographical
sketch of Nehemiah's that in it the writer repeatedly
lifts the veil and reveals to us the secret of his
thoughts. Heroic in the world, before men, he still
knew his real human weakness. But he knew too
that his strength was in God. Such heroism as his is
not like the stolidity of the lifeless rock. It resembles
the strength of the living oak, which grows more
massive just in proportion as it is supplied with fresh
sap. According to his custom in every critical moment
of his life, Nehemiah resorted to prayer, and thus again
we come upon one of those brief ejaculations uttered in
the midst of the stress and strain of a busy life that
light up the pages of his narrative from time to time.
The point of his prayer is simple and definite. It is
just that his hands may be strengthened. This would
have a twofold bearing. In the first place, it would
certainly seek a revival of inward energy. Nehemiah
waits on the Lord that He may renew his strength.
He knows that God helps him through his own
exercise of energy, so that if he is to be protected he
must be made strong. But the prayer means more
than this. For the hands to be strengthened is for
their work to prosper. Nehemiah craves the aid of
God that all may go right in spite of the terrible danger
from lying calumnies with which he is confronted;
and his prayer was answered. The second device was
frustrated.
The third was managed very differently. This
time Nehemiah was attacked within the city, for it was
now apparent that no attempts to lure him outside the
walls could succeed. A curious characteristic of the
new incident is that Nehemiah himself paid a visit to
the man who was the treacherous instrument of his
enemies' devices. He went in person to the house of
Shemaiah the prophet—a most mysterious proceeding.
We have no explanation of his reason for going. Had
the prophet sent for Nehemiah? or is it possible
that in the dread perplexity of the crisis, amid the
snares that surrounded him, oppressed with the loneliness
of his position of supreme responsibility, Nehemiah
hungered for a Divine message from an inspired oracle?
It is plain from this chapter that the common, every-day
prophets—so much below the great messengers of
Jehovah whose writings represent Hebrew prophecy to
us to-day—had survived the captivity, and were still
practising divination much after the manner of heathen
soothsayers, as their fathers had done before them
from the time when a young farmer's son was sent to
Samuel to learn the whereabouts of a lost team of
asses. If Nehemiah had resorted to the prophet of
his own accord, his danger was indeed serious. In this
case it would be the more to his credit that he did not
permit himself to be duped.
Another feature of the strange incident is not very
clear to us. Nehemiah tells us that the prophet was
"shut up."Neh. vi. 10.
What does this mean? Was the man
ceremonially unclean? or ill? or in custody under some
accusation? None of these three explanations can be
accepted, because Shemaiah proposed to proceed at once
to the temple with Nehemiah, and thus confessed his
seclusion to be voluntary. Can we give a metaphorical
interpretation to the expression, and understand the
prophet to be representing himself as under a Divine
compulsion, the thought of which may give the more
urgency to the advice he tenders to Nehemiah? In
this case we should look for a more explicit statement,
for the whole force of his message would depend upon
the authority thus attributed to it. A simpler interpretation,
to which the language of Shemaiah points,
and one in accordance with all the wretched, scheming
policy of the enemies of Nehemiah, is that the prophet
pretended that he was himself in personal danger as a
friend and supporter of the governor, and that therefore
he found it necessary to keep himself in seclusion.
Thus by his own attitude he would try to work on the
fears of Nehemiah.
The proposal that the prophet should accompany
Nehemiah to the shelter of the temple, even into the
"Holy Place," was temptingly plausible. The heathen
regarded the shrines of their gods as sanctuaries, and
similar notions seem to have attached themselves to the
Jewish altar. Moreover, the massive structure of the
temple was itself a defence—the temple of Herod was
the last fortress to be taken in the great final siege.
In the temple, too, Nehemiah might hope to be safe
from the surprise of a street émeute among the disaffected
sections of the population. Above all, the
presence and counsel of a prophet would seem to
sanction and authorise the course indicated. Yet it
was all a cruel snare. This time the purpose was to
discredit Nehemiah in the eyes of the Jews, inasmuch
as his influence depended largely on his reputation.
But again Nehemiah could see through the tricks of
his enemies. He was neither blinded by self-interest
nor overawed by prophetic authority. The use of that
authority was the last arrow in the quiver of his foes.
They would attack him through his religious faith.
Their mistake was that they took too low a view of that
faith. This is the common mistake of the irreligious in
their treatment of truly devout men. Nehemiah knew
that a prophet could err. Had there not been lying
prophets in the days of Jeremiah? It is a proof of his
true spiritual insight that he could discern one in his
pretended protector. The test is clear to a man with
so true a conscience as we see in Nehemiah. If the
prophet says what we know to be morally wrong, he
cannot be speaking from God. It is not the teaching
of the Bible—not the teaching of the Old Testament any
more than that of the New—that revelation supersedes
conscience, that we are ever to take on authority what
our moral nature abhors. The humility that would lay
conscience under the heel of authority is false and
degrading, and it is utterly contrary to the whole tenor
of Scripture. One great sign of the worth of a prophecy
is its character. Thus the devout man is to try the
spirits, whether they be of God.1 John iv. 1.
Nehemiah has the
clear, serene conscience that detects sin when it appears
in the guise of sanctity. He sees at a glance that it
would be wrong for him to follow Shemaiah's advice.
It would involve a cowardly desertion of his post. It
would also involve a desecration of the sacred temple
enclosure. How could he, being such as he was—i.e.,
a layman—go into the temple, even to save his life?Neh. vi. 11.
But did not our Lord excuse David for an analogous
action in eating the shewbread? True. But Nehemiah
did not enjoy the primitive freedom of David, nor the
later enlightened liberty of Christ. In his intermediate
position, in his age of nascent ceremonialism, it was
impossible for him to see that simple human necessities
could ever override the claims of ritual. His duty was
shaped to him by his beliefs. So is it with every
man. To him that esteemeth anything sin it is sin.Rom. xiv. 14.
Nehemiah's answer to the proposal of the wily prophet
is very blunt—"I will not go in." Bluntness is the
best reply to sophistry. The whole scheme was open
to Nehemiah. He perceived that God had not sent the
prophet, that this man was but a tool in the hands of
the Samaritan conspirators. In solemnly committing
the leaders of the vile conspiracy to the judgment of
Heaven, Nehemiah includes a prophetess, Noadiah—degenerate
successor of the patriotic Deborah!—and the
whole gang of corrupt, traitorous prophets. Thus the
wrongness of Shemaiah's proposal not only discredited
his mission; it also revealed the secret of his whole
undertaking and that of his unworthy coadjutors.
While Nehemiah detected the character of the false
prophecy by means of his clear perceptions of right and
wrong, those perceptions helped him to discover the
hidden hand of his foe. He was not to be sheltered in
the temple, as Shemaiah suggested; but he was saved
through the keenness of his own conscience. In this
case the wisdom of the serpent in him was the direct
outcome of his high moral nature and the care with
which he kept "conscience as the noontide clear."
Nehemiah adds two items by way of postscripts to his
account of the building of the walls.
The first is the completion of the work, with its effect
on the jealous enemies of the Jews. It was finished
in fifty-two days—an almost incredibly short time,
especially when the hindrances of internal troubles and
external attacks are taken into account. The building
must have been hasty and rough. Still it was sufficient
for its purpose. The moral effect of it was the chief
result gained. The sense of discouragement now
passed over to the enemy. It was the natural reaction
from the mockery with which they had assailed the
commencement of the work, that at the sight of the
completion of it they should be "much cast down."Neh. vi. 16.
We can imagine the grim satisfaction with which
Nehemiah would write these words. But they tell of
more than the humiliation of insulting and deceitful
enemies; they complete an act in a great drama of Providence,
in which the courage that stands to duty in
face of all danger and the faith that looks to God in
prayer are vindicated.
The second postscript describes yet another source of
danger to Nehemiah—one possibly remaining after the
walls were up. Tobiah, "the servant," had not been
included in the previous conspiracies. But he was
playing a little game of his own. The intermarriage
of leading Jewish families with foreigners was bearing
dangerous fruit in his case. Tobiah had married a
Jewess, and his son had followed his example. In
each case the alliance had brought him into connection
with a well-known family in Jerusalem. These two
families pleaded his merits with Nehemiah, and at the
same time acted as spies and reported the words of the
governor to Tobiah. The consequence was the receipt
of alarmist letters from this man by Nehemiah. The
worst danger might thus be found among the disaffected
citizens within the walls who were irritated at
the rigorously exclusive policy of Ezra, which Nehemiah
had not discouraged, although he had not yet had occasion
to push it further. The stoutest walls will not
protect from treason within the ramparts. So after all
the labour of completing the fortifications Nehemiah's
trust must still be in God alone.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE LAW.
Nehemiah viii. 1-8.
The fragmentary nature of the chronicler's work is
nowhere more apparent than in that portion of
it which treats of the events immediately following on
the completion of the fortifications of Jerusalem. In
Nehemiah vii. we have a continuation of the governor's
personal narrative of his work, describing how the
watch was organised after the walls had been built and
the gates set up.Neh. vii. 1-3.
This is followed by a remark on
the sparseness of the city population,Neh. vii. 4.
which leads
Nehemiah to insert the list of Zerubbabel's pilgrims
that the chronicler subsequently copies out in his
account of Zerubbabel's expedition.Neh. vii. 5-73 = Ezra ii.
Here the subject
is dropped, to be resumed at Nehemiah xi., where the
arrangements for increasing the population of Jerusalem
are described. Thus we might read right on with a
continuous narrative—allowing for the insertion of the
genealogical record, the reason for which is obvious—and
omit the three intermediate chapters without any
perceptible hiatus, but, on the contrary, with a gain in
consecutiveness.
These three chapters stand by themselves, and they
are devoted to another matter, and that a matter marked
by a certain unity and distinctive character of its own.
They are written in the third person, by the chronicler
himself. In them Ezra suddenly reappears without any
introduction, taking the leading place, while Nehemiah
recedes into the background, only to be mentioned once
or twice, and then as the loyal supporter of the famous
scribe. The style has a striking resemblance to that
of Ezra, from whom therefore, it has been conjectured,
the chronicler may have derived his materials.
These facts and minor points that seem to support
them, have raised the question whether the section
Nehemiah viii.-x. is found in its right place; whether
it should not have been joined on to the Book of Ezra
as a description of what followed immediately after the
events there recorded and before the advent of Nehemiah
to Jerusalem. Ezra brought the book of The Law with
him from Babylon. It would be most reasonable to
suppose that he would seize the first opportunity for
making it known. Accordingly we find that the corresponding
section in 1 Esdras is in this position.1 Esdras ix. 37-55.
Nevertheless it is now generally agreed that the three
chapters as they stand in the Book of Nehemiah are in
their true chronological position. Twice Nehemiah himself
appears in the course of the narrative they contain.
He is associated with Ezra and the Levites in teaching
The Law,Neh. viii. 9.
and his name stands first in the lists of the
covenanters.Neh. x. 1.
The admission of these facts is only
avoided in 1 Esdras by an alteration of the text. If
we were to suppose that the existence of the name in
our narrative is the result of an interpolation by a later
hand, it would be difficult to account for this, and it
would be still more difficult to discover why the
chronicler should introduce confusion into his narrative
by an aimless misplacement of it. His methods of
procedure are sometimes curious, it must be admitted,
and that we met with a misplaced section in an earlier
chapter cannot be reasonably questioned.Ezra iv. 7-23.
But the
motive which probably prompted that peculiar arrangement
does not apply here. In the present case it would
result in nothing but confusion.
The question is of far more than literary interest.
The time when The Law was first made known to the
people in its entirety is a landmark of the first importance
for the History of Israel. There is a profound
significance in the fact that though Ezra had long been
a diligent student and a careful, loving scribe, though
he had carried up the precious roll to Jerusalem, and
though he had been in great power and influence in the
city, he had not found a fitting opportunity for revealing
his secret to his people before all his reforming
efforts were arrested, and the city and its inhabitants
trampled under foot by their envious neighbours.
Then came Nehemiah's reconstruction. Still the consideration
of The Law remained in abeyance. While
Jerusalem was an armed camp, and while the citizens
were toiling at the walls or mounting guard by turn,
there was no opportunity for a careful attention to the
sacred document. All this time Ezra was out of sight,
and his name not once mentioned. Yet he was far too
brilliant a star to have been eclipsed even by the rising
of Nehemiah. We can only account for the sudden
and absolute vanishing of the greatest figure of the
age by supposing that he had retired from the scene,
perhaps gone back to Babylon alone with his grief and
disappointment. Those were not days for the scholar's
mission. But now, with the return of some amount of
security and its accompanying leisure, Ezra emerges
again, and immediately he is accorded the front place
and Nehemiah—the "Saviour of Society"—modestly
assumes the attitude of his disciple. A higher tribute
to the exalted position tacitly allowed to the scribe or
a finer proof of the unselfish humility of the young
statesman cannot be imagined. Though at the height
of his power, having frustrated the many evil designs
of his enemies and completed his stupendous task of
fortifying the city of his fathers in spite of the most
vexatious difficulties, the successful patriot is not in
the least degree flushed with victory. In the quietest
manner possible he steps aside and yields the first
place to the recluse, the student, the writer, the teacher.
This is a sign of the importance that ideas will assume
in the new age. The man of action gives place to the
man of thought. Still more is it a hint of the coming
ecclesiasticism of the new Jewish order. As the civil
ruler thus takes a lower ground in the presence of the
religious leader, we seem to be anticipating those days
of the triumph of the Church when a king would
stand like a groom to hold the horse of a pope. And
yet this is not officially arranged. It is not formally
conceded on the one side, nor is it formally demanded
on the other side. The situation may be rather compared
with that of Savonarola in Florence when by
sheer moral force he overtopped the power of the
Medici, or that of Calvin at Geneva when the municipal
council willingly yielded to the commanding spirit of
the minister of religion because it recognised the
supremacy of religion.
In such a condition of affairs the city was ripe for
the public exposition of The Law. But even then
Ezra only published it after having been requested to
do so by the people. We cannot assign this delay
of his to any reluctance to let his fellow-countrymen
know the law which he had long loved and studied in
private. We may rather conclude that he perceived the
utter inutility of any attempt to thrust it upon inattentive
hearers—nay, the positive mischievousness of such
a proceeding. This would approach the folly described
by our Lord when He warned His disciples against
casting pearls before swine. Very much of the popular
indifference to the Bible among large sections of the
population to-day must be laid at the doors of those
unwise zealots who have dinned the mere letter of it
into the ears of unwilling auditors. The conduct of
Ezra shows that, with all his reverence for The Law,
the Great Scribe did not consider that it was to be
imposed, like a civil code, by magisterial authority.
The decree of Artaxerxes had authorised him to enforce
it in this way on every Jew west of the Euphrates.Ezra vii. 25, 26.
But either the unsettled state of the country or the
wisdom of Ezra had not permitted the application of
the power thus conferred. The Law was to be voluntarily
adopted. It was to be received, as all true
religion must be received, in living faith, with the
acquiescence of the conscience, judgment, and will of
those who acknowledged its obligations.
The occasion for such a reception of it was found
when the Jews were freed from the toil and anxiety
that accompanied the building of their city walls. The
chronicler says that this was in the seventh month;
but he does not give the year. Considering the abrupt
way in which he has introduced the section about the
reading of The Law, we cannot be certain in what year
this took place. If we may venture to take the
narrative continuously, in connection with Nehemiah's
story in the previous chapters, we shall get this occurrence
within a week after the completion of the fortifications.
That was on "the twenty-fifth day of the
month Elul"Neh. vi. 15.
—i.e., the sixth month. The reading
began on "the first day of the seventh month."Neh. viii. 2.
That
is to say, on this supposition, it followed immediately
on the first opportunity of leisure. Then the time was
specially appropriate, for it was the day of the Feast of
Trumpets, which was observed as a public holiday and
an occasion for an assembly—"a holy convocation."Lev. xxiii. 24.
On this day the citizens met in a favourite spot, the
open space just inside the Water Gate, at the east end
of the city, close to the temple, and now part of the
Haram, or sacred enclosure. They were unanimous in
their desire to have no more delay before hearing the
law which Ezra had brought up to Jerusalem as much
as thirteen years before. Why were they all on a
sudden thus eager, after so long a period of indifference?
Was it that the success of Nehemiah's work had given
them a new hope and confidence, a new idea, indeed?
They now saw the compact unity of Jerusalem established.
Here was the seal and centre of their separateness.
Accepting this as an accomplished fact, the
Jews were ready and even anxious to know that sacred
law in which their distinction from other people and
their consecration to Jehovah were set forth.
Not less striking is the manner in which Ezra
met this welcome request of the Jews. The scene
which follows is unique in history—the Great Scribe
with the precious roll in his hand standing on a
temporary wooden platform so that he may be seen by
everybody in the vast crowd—seven Levites supporting
him on either sideIn Neh. viii. 4 six names are given for the right-hand contingent
and seven for the left-hand. But since in the corresponding account
of 1 Esdras fourteen names occur, one name would seem to have
dropped out of Nehemiah. The prominence given to the Levites in
all these scenes and the absence of reference to the priests should
be noted. The Levites were still important personages, although
degraded from the priesthood. The priests were chiefly confined to
ritual functions; later they entered on the duties of civil government.
The Levites were occupied with teaching the people, with whom
they came into closer contact. Their work corresponded more to
that of the pastoral office. In these times, too, most of the scribes
seem to have been Levites.
—other select Levites going
about among the people after each section of The Law
has been read in order to explain it to separate groups
of the assemblyNot translating it into the Aramaic dialect. That would have
been a superfluous task, for the Jews certainly knew Hebrew at this
time. Ezra and Nehemiah and the prophets down to Malachi wrote
in Hebrew.
—the motley gathering comprising
the bulk of the citizens, not men only but women also,
for the brutal Mohammedan exclusiveness that confines
knowledge to one sex was not anticipated by
the ancient Jews; not adults only, but children also,
"those that could understand," for The Law is for the
simplest minds, the religion of Israel is to be popular
and domestic—the whole of this multitude assembling
in the cool, fresh morning when the first level rays of
the sun smite the city walls from over the Mount of
Olives, and standing reverently hour after hour, till
the hot autumn noon puts an end to the lengthy
meeting.
In all this the fact which comes out most prominently,
accentuated by every detail of the arrangements, is the
popularisation of The Law. Its multiplex precepts
were not only recited in the hearing of men, women,
and children; they were carefully expounded to the
people. Hitherto it had been a matter of private study
among learned men; its early development had been
confined to a small group of faithful believers in Jehovah;
its customary practices had been privately elaborated
through the ages almost like the mysteries of a
secret cult; and therefore its origin had been buried in
hopeless obscurity. So it was like the priestly ritual of
heathenism. The priest of Eleusis guarded his secrets
from all but those who were favoured by being solemnly
initiated into them. Now this unwholesome condition
was to cease. The most sacred rites were to be expounded
to all the people. Ezra knew that the only
worship God would accept must be offered with the
mind and the heart. Moreover, The Law concerned
the actions of the people themselves, their own minute
observance of purifications and careful avoidance of
defilements, their own offerings and festivals. No
priestly performances could avail as a substitute for
these popular religious observances.
Yet much of The Law was occupied with directions
concerning the functions of the priests and the sacrificial
ritual. By acquainting the laity with these
directions, Ezra and his helpers were doing their best
to fortify the nation against the tyranny of sacerdotalism.
The Levites, who at this time were probably
still sore at the thought of their degradation, and
jealous of the favoured line of Zadok, would naturally
fall in with such a policy. It was the more remarkable
because the new theocracy was just now coming into
power. Here would be a powerful protection against
the abuse of its privileges by the hierarchy. Priests,
all the world over, have made capital out of their
exclusive knowledge of the ritual of religion. They
have jealously guarded their secrets from the uninitiated
multitude, so as to make themselves necessary
to anxious worshippers who dreaded to give offence to
their gods or to fail in their sacrifices through ignorance
of the prescribed methods. By committing the
knowledge of The Law to the people, Ezra protected
the Jews against this abuse. Everything was to be
above board, in broad daylight; and the degradation of
ignorant worship was not to be encouraged, much as a
corrupt priesthood in later times might desire it. An
indirect consequence of this publication of The Law
with the careful instruction of the people in its contents
was that the element of knowledge took a more exalted
position in religion. It is not the magical priest, it is
the logical scribe who really leads the people now.
Ideas will mean more than in the old days of obscure
ritual. There is an end to the "dim religious light."
Henceforth Torah—Instruction—is to be the most
fundamental ground of faith.
It is important that we should see clearly what was
contained in this roll of The Law out of which Ezra
read to the citizens of Jerusalem. The distress with
which its contents were received would lead us to
suppose that the grave minatory passages of Deuteronomy
were especially prominent in the reading. We
cannot gather from the present scene any further
indications of the subjects brought before the Jews.
But from other parts of the Book of Nehemiah we can
learn for certain that the whole of the Pentateuch was
now introduced to the people. If it was not all read
out in the Ecclesia, it was all in the hands of Ezra, and
its several parts were made known from time to time
as occasion required. First, we may infer that in addition
to Deuteronomy Ezra's law contained the ancient
Jehovistic narrative, because the treatment of mixed
marriagesNeh. x. 30.
refers to the contents of this portion of the
Pentateuch.Exod. xxxiv. 16.
Secondly, we may see that it included
"The Law of Holiness," because the regulations
concerning the sabbatic yearNeh. x. 31.
are copied from that
collection of rules about defilement and consecration.Lev. xxv. 2-7.
Thirdly, we may be equally sure that it did not lack
"The Priestly Code"—the elaborate system of ritual
which occupies the greater part of Numbers and
Leviticus—because the law of the firstfruitsNeh. x. 35-39.
is taken
from that source.Lev. xxvii. 30; Num. xv. 20 ff., xviii. 11-32.
Here, then, we find allusions to
the principal constituent elements of the Pentateuch
scattered over the brief Book of Nehemiah. It is
clear, therefore, that the great accretion of customs and
teachings, which only reached completion after the close
of the captivity, was the treasure Ezra now introduced
to his people. Henceforth nothing less can be understood
when the title "The Law" is used. From this
time obedience to the Torah will involve subjection to
the whole system of priestly and sacrificial regulations,
to all the rules of cleanness and consecration and
sacrifice contained in the Pentateuch.Strictly speaking, the Hexateuch, as "Joshua" was undoubtedly
included in the volume. But the familiar term Pentateuch may serve
here, as it is to the legal requirements contained in the earlier books
that reference is made.
A more difficult point to be determined is, how far
this Pentateuch was really a new thing when it was
introduced by Ezra. Here we must separate two very
different questions. If they had always been kept
apart, much confusion would have been avoided. The
first is the question of the novelty of The Law to the
Jews. There is little difficulty in answering this question.
The very process of reading The Law and explaining
it goes on the assumption that it is not known.
The people receive it as something strange and startling.
Moreover, this scene of the revelation of The Law to
Israel is entirely in harmony with the previous history
of the nation. Whenever The Law was shaped as we
now know it, it is clear that it was not practised in its
present form by the Jews before Ezra's day. We have
no contemporary evidence of the use of it in the earlier
period. We have clear evidence that conduct contrary
to many of its precepts was carried on with impunity,
and even encouraged by prophets and religious leaders
without any protest from priests or scribes. The complete
law is new to Israel. But there is a second
question—viz., how far was this law new in itself?
Nobody can suppose that it was an absolutely novel
creation of the exile, with no roots in the past. Their
repeated references to Moses show that its supporters
relegated its origin to a dim antiquity, and we should
belie all we know of their character if we did not
allow that they were acting in good faith. But we
have no evidence that The Law had been completed,
codified, and written out in full before the time of
Ezra. In antiquity, when writing was economised
and memory cultivated to a degree of accuracy that
seems to us almost miraculous, it would be possible to
hand down a considerable system of ritual or of jurisprudence
by tradition. Even this stupendous act of
memory would not exceed that of the rhapsodists who
preserved and transmitted the unwritten Iliad. But
we are not driven to such an extreme view. We do
not know how much of The Law may have been committed
to writing in earlier ages. Some of it was,
certainly. It bears evidence of its history in the
several strata of which it is composed, and which must
have been deposited successively. Deuteronomy, in
its essence and original form, was certainly known
before the captivity. So were the Jehovistic narrative
and the Law of the Covenant. The only question as
regards Ezra's day turns on the novelty of the Priestly
Code, with the Law of Holiness, and the final editing
and redaction of the whole. This is adumbrated in
Ezekiel and the degradation of the Levites, who are
identified with the priests in Deuteronomy, but set in a
lower rank in Leviticus, assigned to its historical occasion.
Here, then, we see the latest part of Ezra's law
in the making. It was not created by the scribe. It
was formed out of traditional usages of the priests,
modified by recent directions from a prophet. The
origin of these usages was lost in antiquity, and therefore
it was natural to attribute them to Moses, the great
founder of the nation. We cannot even affirm that
Ezra carried out the last redaction of The Law with his
own hand, that he codified the traditional usages, the
"Common Law" of Israel. What we know is, that he
published this law. That he also edited it is an inference
drawn from his intimate connection with the
work as student and scribe, and supported by the
current of later traditions. But while this is possible,
what is indubitable is that to Ezra is due the glory of
promulgating the law and making it pass into the life
of the nation. Henceforth Judaism is legalism. We
know this in its imperfection and its difference from
the spiritual faith of Christ. To the contemporaries
of Ezra it indicated a stage of progress—knowledge in
place of superstitious bondage to the priesthood, conscientious
obedience to ordinances instituted for the
public welfare instead of careless indifference or obstinate
self-will. Therefore its appearance marked a
forward step in the course of Divine revelation.
CHAPTER XXV.
THE JOY OF THE LORD.
Nehemiah viii. 9-18.
"All the people wept when they heard the words
of the law." Was it for this mournful end that
Ezra had studied the sacred law and guarded it through
the long years of political unrest, until at length he was
able to make it known with all the pomp and circumstance
of a national festival? Evidently the leaders
of the people had expected no such result. But, disappointing
as it was, it might have been worse. The
reading might have been listened to with indifference;
or the great, stern law might have been rejected with
execration, or scoffed at with incredulity. Nothing of
the kind happened. There was no doubt as to the
rightness of The Law, no reluctance to submit to its
yoke, no disposition to ignore its requirements. This
law had come with all the authority of the Persian
government to sanction it; and yet it is evidently no
fear of the magistrate, but their own convictions, their
confirming consciences, that here influence the people
and determine their attitude to it. Thus Ezra's labours
were really honoured by the Jews, though their fruits
were received so sorrowfully.
We must not suppose that the Jews of Ezra's day
anticipated the ideas of St. Paul. It was not a Christian
objection to law that troubled them; they did not complain
of its externalism, its bondage, its formal requirements
and minute details. To imagine that these
features of The Law were regarded with disapproval
by the first hearers of it is to credit them with an
immense advance in thought beyond their leaders—Ezra,
Nehemiah, and the Levites. It is clear that their grief
arose simply from their perception of their own miserable
imperfections in contrast to the lofty requirements of
The Law, and in view of its sombre threats of punishment
for disobedience. The discovery of a new ideal
of conduct above that with which we have hitherto
been satisfied naturally provokes painful stings of conscience,
which the old salve, compounded of the comfortable
little notions we once cherished, will not
neutralise. In the new light of the higher truth we
suddenly discover that the "robe of righteousness" in
which we have been parading is but as "filthy rags."
Then our once vaunted attainments become despicable
in our own eyes. The eminence on which we have
been standing so proudly is seen to be a wretched
mole-hill compared with the awful snow-peak from
which the clouds have just dispersed. Can we ever
climb that? Goodness now seems to be hopelessly
unattainable; yet never before was it so desirable,
because never before did it shine with so rare and
fascinating a lustre.
But, it may be objected, was not the religious and
moral character of the teaching of the great prophets—of
Hosea, Isaiah, Micah, Jeremiah—larger and higher and
more spiritual than the legalism of the Pentateuch?
That may be granted; but it is not to the point here.
The lofty prophetic teaching had never been accepted
by the nation. The prophets had been voices crying in
the wilderness. Their great spiritual thoughts had
never been seriously followed except by a small group
of devout souls. It was the Christian Church that first
built on the foundation of the prophets. But in Ezra's
day the Jews as a body frankly accepted The Law.
Whether this were higher or lower than the ideal of
prophetism does not affect the case. The significant
fact is that is was higher than any ideal the people had
hitherto adopted in practice. The perception of this
fact was most distressing to them.
Nevertheless the Israelite leaders did not share the
feeling of grief. In their eyes the sorrow of the Jews
was a great mistake. It was even a wrong thing for
them thus to distress themselves. Ezra loved The
Law, and therefore it was to him a dreadful surprise to
discover that the subject of his devoted studies was
regarded so differently by his brethren. Nehemiah
and the Levites shared his more cheerful view of the
situation. Lyrics of this and subsequent ages bear
testimony to the passionate devotion with which the
sacred Torah was cherished by loyal disciples. The
author of the hundred and nineteenth Psalm ransacks
his vocabulary for varying phrases on which to ring
the changes in praise of the law, the judgments, the
statutes, the commandments of God. He cries:—
"I will delight in Thy statutes:
I will not forget Thy word.
* * * *
"Open Thou mine eyes, that I may behold
Wondrous things out of Thy law.
* * * *
"Unless Thy law had been my delight,
I should have perished in mine affliction.
* * * *
"Great peace have they that love Thy law,
And they have none occasion of stumbling."
Moreover, the student of The Law to-day can perceive
that its intention was beneficent. It maintained
righteousness; and righteousness is the chief good. It
regulated the mutual relations of men with regard to
justice; it ordained purity; it contained many humane
rules for the protection of men and even of animals;
it condescended to most wholesome sanitary directions.
Then it declared that he who kept its ordinances should
live, not merely by reason of an arbitrary arrangement,
but because it pointed out the natural and necessary
way of life and health. The Divine Spirit that had
guided the development of it had presided over something
more inviting than the forging of fetters for a
host of miserable slaves, something more useful than
the creation of a tantalising exemplar that should be
the despair of every copyist. Ezra and his fellow-leaders
knew the intention of The Law. This was the
ground of their joyous confidence in contemplation of
it. They were among those who had been led by their
personal religion into possession of "the secret of the
Lord." They had acquainted themselves with Him,
and therefore they were at peace. Their example
teaches us that we must penetrate beyond the letter to
the spirit of revelation if we would discover its hidden
thoughts of love. When we do so even The Law will
be found to enshrine an evangel. Not that these men
of the olden times perceived the fanciful symbolism
which many Christians have delighted to extract from
the most mechanical details of the tabernacle ritual.
Their eyes were fixed on the gracious Divine purpose
of creating a holy nation—separate and pure—and
The Law seemed to be the best instrument for accomplishing
that purpose. Meanwhile its impracticability
did not strike them, because they thought of the thing
in itself rather than of the relation of men to it.
Religious melancholy springs from habits of subjectivity.
The joyous spirit is that which forgets self
in the contemplation of the thoughts of God. It is our
meditation of Him—not of self—that is sweet.
Of course this would have been unreasonable if it
had totally ignored human conditions and their relation
to the Divine. In that case Ezra and his companions
would have been vain dreamers, and the sorrowing
multitude people of common-sense perceptions. But
we must remember that the new religious movement
was inspired by faith. It is faith that bridges the vast
chasm between the real and the ideal. God had given
The Law in lovingkindness and tender mercy. Then
God would make the attainment of His will revealed in
it possible. The part of brave and humble men was to
look away from themselves to the revelation of God's
thought concerning them with grateful admiration of its
glorious perfection.
While considerations of this sort would make it
possible for the leaders to regard The Law in a very
different spirit from that manifested by the rest of the
Jews, other reflections led them to go further and check
the outburst of grief as both unseemly and hurtful.
It was unseemly, because it was marring the beauty
of a great festival. The Jews were to stay their grief
seeing that the day was holy unto the Lord.Neh. viii. 9.
This
was as much as to say that sorrow was defiling. The
world had to wait for the religion of the cross reveal
to it the sanctity of sorrow. Undoubtedly the Jewish
festivals were joyous celebrations. It is the greatest
mistake to represent the religion of the Old Testament
as a gloomy cult overshadowed by the thunder-clouds of
Sinai. On the contrary, its greatest offices were celebrated
with music, dancing, and feasting. The high
day was a holiday, sunny and mirthful. It would be a
pity to spoil such an occasion with unseasonable lamentations.
But Nehemiah and Ezra must have had a
deeper thought than this in their deprecation of grief at
the festival. To allow such behaviour is to entertain
unworthy feelings towards God. A day sacred to the
Lord is a day in which His presence is especially felt.
To draw near to God with no other feelings than emotions
of fear and grief is to misapprehend His nature and
His disposition towards His people. Worship should
be inspired with the gladness of grateful hearts praising
God, because otherwise it would discredit His goodness.
This leads to a thought of wider range and still more
profound significance, a thought that flashes out of the
sacred page like a brilliant gem, a thought so rich
and glad and bountiful that it speaks for its own inspiration
as one of the great Divine ideas of Scripture—"The
joy of the Lord is your strength." Though the
unseemliness of mourning on a feast day was the first
and most obvious consideration urged by the Jewish
leaders in their expostulation with the distressed multitude,
the real justification for their rebukes and exhortations
is to be found in the magnificent spiritual idea
that they here give expression to. In view of such a
conviction as they now gladly declare they would
regard the lamentation of the Jews as more than
unseemly, as positively hurtful and even wrong.
By the expression "the joy of the Lord" it seems
clear that Nehemiah and his associates meant a joy
which may be experienced by men through their fellowship
with God. The phrase could be used for the
gladness of God Himself; as we speak of the righteousness
of God or the love of God, so we might speak of
His joy in reference to His own infinite life and consciousness.
But in the case before us the drift of the
passage directs our thoughts to the moods and feelings
of men. The Jews are giving way to grief, and they
are rebuked for so doing and encouraged to rejoice. In
this situation some thoughts favourable to joy on their
part are naturally suitable. Accordingly they are
called to enter into a pure and lofty gladness in which
they are assured they will find their strength.
This "joy of the Lord," then, is the joy that springs up
in our hearts by means of our relation to God. It is a
God-given gladness, and it is found in communion with
God. Nevertheless the other "joy of the Lord" is
not to be left out of account when we think of the
gladness which comes to us from God, for the highest
joy is possible to us just because it is first experienced
by God. There could be no joy in communion with a
morose divinity. The service of Moloch must have
been a terror, a perfect agony to his most loyal devotees.
The feelings of a worshipper will always be reflections
from what he thinks he perceives in the countenance of
his god. They will be gloomy if the god is a sombre
personage, and cheerful if he is a glad being. Now
the revelation of God in the Bible is the unveiling
with growing clearness of a countenance of unspeakable
love and beauty and gladness. He is made known to
us as "the blessed God"—the happy God. Then the joy
of His children is the overflow of His own deep gladness
streaming down to them. This is the "joy in the
presence of the angels" which, springing from the great
heart of God, makes the happiness of returning penitents,
so that they share in their Father's delight, as the prodigal
shares in the home festivities when the fatted calf is
killed. This same communication of gladness is seen in
the life of our Lord, not only during those early sunny
days in Galilee when His ministry opened under a cloudless
sky, but even amid the darkness of the last hours
at Jerusalem, for in His final discourse Jesus prayed
that His joy might be in His disciples in order that
their joy might be full. A more generous perception
of this truth would make religion like sunshine and
music, like the blooming of spring flowers and the outburst
of woodland melody about the path of the Christian
pilgrim. It is clear that Jesus Christ expected this to
be the case since He commenced His teaching with
the word "Blessed." St. Paul, too, saw the same
possibility, as his repeated encouragements to "Rejoice"
bear witness. Religion may be compared to one of
those Italian city churches which are left outwardly
bare and gloomy, while within they are replete with
treasures of art. We must cross the threshold, push
aside the heavy curtain, and tread the sacred pavement,
if we would see the beauty of sculptured column and
mural fresco and jewelled altar-piece. Just in proportion
as we draw near to God shall we behold the joy and love
that ever dwell in Him, till the vision of these wonders
kindles our love and gladness.
Now the great idea that is here suggested to us
connects this Divine joy with strength—the joy is an
inspiration of energy. By the nature of things joy is
exhilarating, while pain is depressing. Physiologists recognise
it as a law of animal organisms that happiness is
a nerve tonic. It would seem that the same law obtains
in spiritual experience. On the other hand, nothing is
more certain than that there are enervating pleasures,
and that the free indulgence in pleasure generally
weakens the character; with this goes the equally
certain truth that men may be braced by suffering, that
the east wind of adversity may be a real stimulant.
How shall we reconcile these contradictory positions?
Clearly there are different kinds and grades of delight,
and different ways of taking and using every form of
gladness. Pure hedonism cannot but be a weak system
of life. It is the Spartan, not the Sybarite, who is
capable of heroic deeds. Even Epicurus, whose name
has been abused to shelter low pleasure-seeking,
perceived, as clearly as "The Preacher," the melancholy
truth that the life that is given over to the satisfaction
of personal desires is but "vanity of vanities." The
joy that exhilarates is not sought as a final goal.
It comes in by the way when we are pursuing some
objective end. Then this purest joy is as far above the
pleasure of the self-indulgent as heaven is above hell.
It may even be found side by side with bodily pain, as
when martyrs exult in their flames, or when stricken
souls in more prosaic circumstances awake to the wonderful
perception of a rare Divine gladness. It is this
joy that gives strength. There is enthusiasm in it. Such
a joy not being an end in itself is a means to a great
practical end. God's glad children are strong to do and
bear His will, strong in their very gladness.
This was good news to the Jews, outwardly but a
feeble flock and a prey to the ravening wolves from
neighbouring lands. They had recovered hope after
building their walls; but these hastily constructed
fortifications did not afford them their most secure
stronghold. Their refuge was God. They carried bows
and spears and swords; but the strength with which
they wielded these weapons consisted in the enthusiasm
of a Divine gladness—not the orgiastic fury of
the heathen, but the deep, strong joy of men who knew
the secret of their Lord, who possessed what Wordsworth
calls "inward glee." This joy was essentially
a moral strength. It bestowed the power wherewith
to keep the law. Here was the answer to the discouragement
of the people in their dawning perception
of the lofty requirements of God's holy will. The
Christian can best find energy for service, as well as the
calm strength of patience, in that still richer Divine
gladness which is poured into his heart by the grace of
Christ. It is not only unfortunate for anybody to be a
mournful Christian; it is dangerous, hurtful, even wrong.
Therefore the gloomy servant of God is to be rebuked
for missing the Divine gladness. Seeing that the source
of it is in God, and not in the Christian himself, it is
attainable and possible to the most sorrowful. He who
has found this "pearl of great price" can afford to miss
much else in life and yet go on his way rejoicing.
It was natural that the Jews should have been encouraged
to give expression to the Divine joy at a great
festival. The final harvest-home of the year, the
merry celebration of the vintage, was then due. No
Jewish feast was more cheerful than this, which expressed
gratitude for "wine that maketh glad the heart
of man." The superiority of Judaism over heathenism
is seen in the tremendous contrast between the simple
gaiety of the Jewish Feast of Tabernacles and the gross
debauchery of the Bacchanalian orgies which disgraced
a similar occasion in the pagan world. It is to our
shame in modern Christendom that we dare not imitate
the Jews here, knowing too well that if we tried to
do so we should only sink to the heathen level. Our
Feast of Tabernacles would certainly become a Feast
of Bacchus, bestial and wicked. Happily the Jews did
not feel the Teutonic danger of intemperance. Their
festival recognised the Divine bounty in nature, in
its richest, ripest autumn fruitfulness, which was like
the smile of God breaking out through His works to
cheer His children. Bivouacking in greenwood bowers,
the Jews did their best to return to the life of nature
and share its autumn gladness. The chronicler informs
us that since the days of Joshua the Jews had never
observed the feast as they did now—never with
such great gladness and never so truly after the
directions of their law. Although the actual words
he gives as from The LawNeh. viii. 14, 15
are not to be found in the
Pentateuch, they sum up the regulations of that work.
This then is the first application of The Law which the
people have received with so much distress. It ordains
a glad festival. So much brighter is religion when it is
understood and practised than when it is only contemplated
from afar! Now the reading of The Law can
go on day by day, and be received with joy.
Finally, like the Christians who collected food and
money at the Agapé for their poorer brethren and for
the martyrs in prison, the Jews were to "send portions"
to the needy.Neh. viii. 12.
The rejoicing was not to be selfish;
it was to stimulate practical kindness. Here was its
safeguard. We shrink from accepting joy too freely
lest it should be followed by some terrible Nemesis;
but if, instead of gloating over it in secret, selfishly
and greedily, we use it as a talent, and endeavour to
lessen the sorrows of others by inviting them to share
it, the heathenish dread is groundless. He who is
doing his utmost to help his brother may dare to be
very happy.
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE RELIGION OF HISTORY.
Nehemiah ix.
After the carnival—Lent. This Catholic procedure
was anticipated by the Jews in the days
of Ezra and Nehemiah. The merry feast of Tabernacles
was scarcely over, when, permitting an interval
of but a single day, the citizens of Jerusalem plunged
into a demonstration of mourning—fasting, sitting in
sackcloth, casting dust on their heads, abjuring foreign
connections, confessing their own and their fathers'
sins. Although the singular revulsion of feeling may
have been quite spontaneous on the part of the people,
the violent reaction to which it gave rise was sanctioned
by the authorities. In an open-air meeting which
lasted for six hours—three of Bible-reading and three
of confession and worship—the Levites took the lead,
as they had done at the publication of The Law a few
weeks earlier. But these very men had rebuked the
former outburst of lamentation. Must we suppose that
their only objection on that occasion was that the
mourning was then untimely, because it was indulged
in at a festival, whereas it ought to have been postponed
to a fast day? If that were all, we should have to contemplate
a miserably artificial condition of affairs. Real
emotions refuse to come and go at the bidding of officials
pedantically set on regulating their alternate recurrence
in accordance with a calendar of the church
year. A theatrical representation of feeling may be
drilled into some such orderly procession. But true
feeling itself is of all things in the universe the most
restive under direct orders.
We must look a little deeper. The Levites had
given a great spiritual reason for the restraint of
grief in their wonderful utterance, "The joy of the
Lord is your strength." This noble thought is not
an elixir to be administered or withheld according to
the recurrence of ecclesiastical dates. If it is true at
all, it is eternally true. Although the application of it
is not always a fact of experience, the reason for the
fluctuations in our personal relations to it is not to be
looked for in the almanack; it will be found in those
dark passages of human life which, of their own accord,
shut out the sunlight of Divine gladness. There is
then no absolute inconsistency in the action of the
Levites. And yet perhaps they may have perceived
that they had been hasty in their repression of the first
outburst of grief; or at all events that they did not
then see the whole truth of the matter. There was
some ground for lamentation after all, and though the
expression of sorrow at a festival seemed to them
untimely, they were bound to admit its fitness a little
later. It is to be observed that another subject was
now brought under the notice of the people. The
contemplation of the revelation of God's will should not
produce grief. But the consideration of man's conduct
cannot but lead to that result. At the reading of
Divine law the Jews' lamentation was rebuked; at the
recital of their own history it was encouraged. Yet
even here it was not to be abject and hopeless. The
Levites exhorted the people to shake off the lethargy of
sorrow, to stand up and bless the Lord their God. Even
in the very act of confessing sin we have a special
reason for praising God, because the consciousness of
our guilt in His sight must heighten our appreciation
of His marvellous forbearance.
The Jews' confession of sin led up to a prayer which
the Septuagint ascribes to Ezra. It does so, however,
in a phrase that manifestly breaks the context, and thus
betrays its origin in an interpolation.LXX. Ezra ix. 6-15.
Nevertheless
the tone of the prayer, and even its very language,
remind us forcibly of the Great Scribe's outpouring of
soul over the mixed marriages of his people recorded in
Ezra ix. No one was more fitted to lead the Jews in
the later act of devotion, and it is only reasonable to
conclude that the work was undertaken by the one man
to whose lot it would naturally fall.
The prayer is very like some of the historical psalms.
By pointing to the variegated picture of the History of
Israel, it shows how God reveals Himself through
events. This suggests the probability that the three
hours' reading of the fast day had been taken from
the historical parts of the Pentateuch. The religious
teachers of Israel knew what riches of instruction were
buried in the history of their nation, and they had the
wisdom to unearth those treasures for the benefit of
their own age. It is strange that we English have
made so little use of a national history that is not a
whit less providential, although it does not glitter with
visible miracles. God has spoken to England as truly
through the defeat of the Spanish Armada, the Puritan
Wars, and the Revolution, as ever He spoke to
Israel by means of the Exodus, the Captivity, and the
Return.
The arrangement and method of the prayer lend
themselves to a singularly forcible presentation of its
main topics, with heightening effect as it proceeds in a
recapitulation of great historical landmarks. It opens
with an outburst of praise to God. In saying that
Jehovah is God alone, it makes more than a cold pronouncement
of Jewish monotheism; it confesses the
practical supremacy of God over His universe, and therefore
over His people and their enemies. God is adored
as the Creator of heaven; and, perhaps with an allusion
to the prevalent Gentile title "God of heaven," as even
the Maker of the heaven of heavens, of that higher
heaven of which the starry firmament is but the gold-sprinkled
floor. There, in those far-off, unseen heights,
He is adored. But earth and sea, with all that inhabit
them, are also God's works. From the highest to the
lowest, over great and small, He reigns supreme. This
glowing expression of adoration constitutes a suitable
exordium. It is right and fitting that we should approach
God in the attitude of pure worship, for the
moment entirely losing ourselves in the contemplation
of Him. This is the loftiest act of prayer, far above
the selfish shriek for help in dire distress to which unspiritual
men confine their utterance before God. It is
also the most enlightening preparation for those lower
forms of devotion that cannot be neglected so long as
we are engaged on earth with our personal needs and
sins, because it is necessary for us first of all to know
what God is, and to be able to contemplate the thought
of His being and nature, if we would understand the
course of His action among men, or see our sins in the
only true light—the light of His countenance. We
can best trace the course of low-lying valleys from a
mountain height. The primary act of adoration illumines
and directs the thanksgiving, confession, and
petition that follow. He who has once seen God
knows how to look at the world and his own heart,
without being misled by earthly glamour or personal
prejudice.
In tracking the course of revelation through history,
the author of the prayer follows two threads. First
one and then the other is uppermost, but it is the interweaving
of them that gives the definite pattern of the
whole picture. These are God's grace and man's sin.
The method of the prayer is to bring them into view
alternately, as they are illustrated in the History of
Israel. The result is like a drama of several acts, and
three scenes in each act. Although we see progress
and a continuous heightening of effect, there is a
startling resemblance between the successive acts,
and the relative characters of the scenes remain the
same throughout. In the first scene we always behold
the free and generous favour of God offered to the
people He condescends to bless, altogether apart from
any merits or claims on their part. In the second we
are forced to look at the ugly picture of Israel's ingratitude
and rebellion. But this is invariably followed by
a third scene, which depicts the wonderful patience and
long-suffering of God, and His active aid in delivering
His guilty people from the troubles they have brought
on their own heads by their sins, whenever they turn to
Him in penitence.
The recital opens where the Jews delighted to trace
their origin, in Ur of the Chaldees. These returned
exiles from Babylon are reminded that at the very
dawn of their ancestral history the same district was the
starting-point. The guiding hand of God was seen in
bringing up the Father of the Nation in that far-off
tribal migration from Chaldæa to Canaan. At first the
Divine action did not need to exhibit all the traits of
grace and power that were seen later, because Abraham
was not a captive. Then, too, there was no rebellion,
for Abraham was faithful. Thus the first scene opens
with the mild radiance of early morning. As yet there
is nothing tragic on either side. The chief characteristic
of this scene is its promise, and the author of
the prayer anticipates some of the later scenes by interjecting
a grateful recognition of the faithfulness of
God in keeping His word. "For Thou art righteous,"
he says.Neh. ix. 8.
This truth is the keynote to the prayer.
The thought of it is always present as an undertone,
and it emerges clearly again towards the conclusion,
where, however, it wears a very different garb. There
we see how in view of man's sin God's righteousness
inflicts chastisement. But the intention of the author
is to show that throughout all the vicissitudes of history
God holds on to His straight line of righteousness,
unwavering. It is just because He does not change
that His action must be modified in order to adjust
itself to the shifting behaviour of men and women. It
is the very immutability of God that requires Him to
show Himself froward with the froward, although He
is merciful with the merciful.
The chief events of the Exodus are next briefly recapitulated,
in order to enlarge the picture of God's
early goodness to Israel. Here we may discern more
than promise; the fulfilment now begins. Here, too,
God is seen in that specific activity of deliverance
which comes more and more to the front as the history
proceeds. While the calamities of the people grow
worse and worse, God reveals Himself with ever-increasing
force as the Redeemer of Israel. The plagues
of Egypt, the passage of the Red Sea, the drowning of
the Egyptians, the cloud-pillar by day and the pillar of
fire by night, the descent on Sinai for the giving of The
Law—in which connection the one law of the Sabbath is
singled out, a point to be noted in view of the great
prominence given to it later on—the manna, and the
water from the rock, are all signs and proofs of God's
exceeding kindness towards His people.
But now we are directed to a very different scene.
In spite of all this never-ceasing, this ever-accumulating
goodness of God, the infatuated people rebel, appoint a
captain to take them back to Egypt, and relapse into
idolatry. This is the human side of the history, shown
up in its deep blackness against the luminous splendour
of the heavenly background.
Then comes the marvellous third scene, the scene
that should melt the hardest heart. God does not
cast off His people. The privileges enumerated before
are carefully repeated, to show that God has not withdrawn
them. Still the cloud-pillar guides by day
and the fire-pillar by night. Still the manna and the
water are supplied. But this is not all. Between
these two pairs of favours a new one is now inserted.
God gives His "good Spirit" to instruct the people.
The author does not seem to be referring to any one
specific event, as that of the Spirit falling on the elders,
or the incident of the unauthorised prophet, or the
bestowal of the Spirit on the artists of the tabernacle.
We should rather conclude from the generality of his
terms that he is thinking of the gift of the Spirit in each
of these cases, and also in every other way in which the
Divine Presence was felt in the hearts of the people.
Prone to wander, they needed and they received this
inward monitor. Thus God showed His great forbearance,
by even extending His grace and giving
more help because the need was greater.
From this picture of the wilderness life we are
led on to the conquest of the Promised Land. The
Israelites overthrow the kings east of the Jordan, and
take possession of their territories. Growing in numbers,
after a time they are enough to cross the
Jordan, seize the land of Canaan, and subdue the
aboriginal inhabitants. Then we see them settling
down in their new home and inheriting the products of
the labours of their more civilised predecessors. All
this is a further proof of the favour of God. Yet
again the dreadful scene of ingratitude is repeated,
and that in an aggravated form. A wild fury of rebellion
takes hold of the wicked people. They rise
up against their God, fling His Torah behind their
backs, murder the prophets He sends to warn them,
and sink down into the greatest wickedness. The
head and front of their offence is the rejection of the
sacred Torah. The word Torah—law or instruction—must
here be taken in its widest sense to comprehend
both the utterances of the prophets and the tradition of
the priests, although it is represented to the contemporaries
of Ezra by its crown and completion, the
Pentateuch. In this second act of heightened energy
on both sides, while the characters of the actors are
developing with stronger features, we have a third
scene—forgiveness and deliverance from God.
Then the action moves more rapidly. It becomes
almost confused. In general terms, with a few swift
strokes, the author sketches a succession of similar
movements—indeed he does little more than hint at
them. We cannot see how often the threefold process
was repeated; only we perceive that it always recurred
in the same form. Yet the very monotony deepens the
impression of the whole drama—so madly persistent
was the backsliding habit of Israel, so grandly continuous
was the patient long-suffering of God. We lose all
count of the alternating scenes of light and darkness
as we look at them down the long vista of the ages.
And yet it is not necessary that we should assort them.
The perspective may escape us; all the more must we
feel the force of the process which is characterised by
so powerful a unity of movement.
Coming nearer to his own time, the author of the
prayer expands into detail again. While the kingdom
lasted God did not cease to plead with his people.
They disregarded His voice, but His Spirit was in the
prophets, and the long line of heavenly messengers was
a living testimony to the Divine forbearance. Heedless
of this greatest and best means of bringing them
back to their forsaken allegiance, the Jews were at
length given over to the heathen. Yet that tremendous
calamity was not without its mitigations. They were
not utterly consumed. Even now God did not forsake
them. He followed them into their captivity. This
was apparent in the continuous advent of prophets—such
as the Second Isaiah and Ezekiel—who appeared
and delivered their oracles in the land of exile; it was
most gloriously manifest in the return under Cyrus.
Such long-continued goodness, beyond the utmost
excess of the nation's sin, surpassed all that could have
been hoped for. It went beyond the promises of God;
it could not be wholly comprehended in His faithfulness.
Therefore another Divine attribute is now revealed. At
first the prayer made mention of God's righteousness,
which was seen in the gift of Canaan as a fulfilment of
the promise to Abraham, so that the author remarked,
in regard to the performance of the Divine word, "for
Thou art righteous." But now he reflects on the greater
kindness, the uncovenanted kindness of the Exile and
the Return; "for Thou art a gracious and merciful
God."Neh. ix. 31.
We can only account for such extended goodness
by ascribing it to the infinite love of God.
Having thus brought his review down to his own
day, in the concluding passage of the prayer the author
appeals to God with reference to the present troubles
of His people. In doing so he first returns to his
contemplation of the nature of God. Three Divine
characteristics rise up before him,—first, majesty ("the
great, the mighty, the terrible God"); second, fidelity
(keeping "covenant"); third, compassion (keeping
"mercy").Neh. ix. 32.
On this threefold plea he beseeches God
that all the national trouble which has been endured
since the first Assyrian invasion may not "seem little"
to Him. The greatness of God might appear to induce
disregard of the troubles of His poor human children,
and yet it would really lead to the opposite result. It
is only the limited faculty that cannot stoop to small
things because its attention is confined to large affairs.
Infinity reaches to the infinitely little as readily as to
the infinitely great. With the appeal for compassion
goes a confession of sin, which is national rather than
personal. All sections of the community on which the
calamities have fallen—with the significant exception
of the prophets who had possessed God's Spirit, and
who had been so grievously persecuted by their fellow-countrymen—all
are united in a common guilt. The
solidarity of the Jewish race is here apparent. We
saw in the earlier case of the sin-offering that the
religion of Israel was national rather than personal.
The punishment of the captivity was a national discipline;
now the confession is for national sin. And
yet the sin is confessed distributively, with regard to
the several sections of society. We cannot feel our
national sin in the bulk. It must be brought home to
us in our several walks of life.
After this confession the prayer deplores the present
state of the Jews. No reference is now made to the
temporary annoyance occasioned by the attacks of the
Samaritans. The building of the walls has put an end
to that nuisance. But the permanent evil is more
deeply rooted. The Jews are mournfully conscious of
their subject state beneath the Persian yoke. They
have returned to their city; but they are no more free
men than they were in Babylon. Like the fellaheen of
Syria to-day, they have to pay heavy tribute, which
takes the best of the produce of their labour. They are
subject to the conscription, having to serve in the armies
of the Great King—Herodotus tells us that there were
"Syrians of Palestine" in the army of Xerxes.Herodotus, vii. 89.
Their
cattle are seized by the officers of the government,
arbitrarily, "at their pleasure." Did Nehemiah know
of this complaint? If so, might there not be some
ground for the suspicion of the informers after all?
Was that suspicion one reason for his recall to Susa?
We cannot answer these questions. As to the prayer,
this leaves the whole case with God. It would have
been dangerous to have said more in the hearing of the
spies who haunted the streets of Jerusalem. And it
was needless. It is not the business of prayer to try
to move the hand of God. It is enough that we lay
bare our state before Him, trusting His wisdom as well
as His grace—not dictating to God, but confiding in
Him.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE COVENANT.
Nehemiah x.
The tenth chapter of "Nehemiah" introduces us
to one of the most vital crises in the History of
Israel. It shows us how the secret cult of the priests
of Jehovah became a popular religion. The process
was brought to a focus in the public reading of The
Law; it was completed in the acceptance of The Law
which the sealing of the covenant ratified. This event
may be compared with the earlier scene, when the law-book
discovered in the temple by Hilkiah was accepted
and enforced by Josiah. Undoubtedly that book is
included in Ezra's complete edition of The Law.
Generations before Ezra, then, though nothing more
than Deuteronomy may have been forthcoming, that
vital section of The Law, containing as it did the
essential principles of Judaism, was adopted. But how
was this result brought about? Not by the intelligent
conviction, nor by the voluntary action of the nation.
It was the work of a king, who thought to drive his
ideas into his subjects. No doubt Josiah acted in a
spirit of genuine loyalty to Jehovah; and yet the
method he followed could not lead to success. The
transient character of his spasmodic attempt to save
his people at the eleventh hour, followed by the total
collapse of the fabric he had built up, shows how
insecure a foundation he had obtained. It was a royal
reformation, not a revival of religion on the part of the
nation. We have an instance of a similar course of
action in the English reformation under Edward VI.,
which was swept away in a moment when his Catholic
sister succeeded to the throne, because it was a movement
originating in the court and not supported by the
country, as was that under Elizabeth when Mary had
opened the eye of the English nation to the character
of Romanism.
But now a very different scene presents itself to our
notice. The sealing of the covenant signifies the
voluntary acceptance of The Law by the people of
Israel, and their solemn promise to submit to its yoke.
There are two sides to this covenant arrangement.
The first is seen in the conduct of the people in entering
into the covenant. This is absolutely an act of
free will on their part. We have seen that Ezra never
attempted to force The Law upon his fellow-countrymen—that
he was slow in producing it; that when he read
it he only did so at the urgent request of the people;
and that even after this he went no further, but left it
with the audience for them to do with it as they thought
fit. It came with the authority of the will of God,
which to religious men is the highest authority; but it
was not backed by the secular arm, even though Ezra
possessed a firman from the Persian court which would
have justified him in calling in the aid of the civil
government. Now the acceptance of The Law is to be
in the same spirit of freedom. Of course somebody
must have started the idea of forming a covenant.
Possibly it was Nehemiah who did so. Still this was
when the people were ripe for entering into it, and the
whole process was voluntary on their part. The only
religion that can be real to us is that which we believe
in with personal faith and surrender ourselves to with
willing obedience. Even when the law is recorded on
parchment, it must also be written on the fleshy table
of the heart if it is to be effective.
But there is another side to the covenant-sealing.
The very existence of a covenant is significant. The
word "covenant" suggests an agreement between two
parties, a mutual arrangement to which each is pledged.
So profound was the conviction of Israel that in coming
to an agreement with God it was not possible for man
to bargain with his Maker on equal terms, that in
translating the Hebrew name for covenant into Greek
the writers of the Septuagint did not use the term that
elsewhere stands for an agreement among equals
(συνθἡκη), but employed one indicative of an arrangement
made by one party to the transaction and submitted
to the other (διαθἡκη). The covenant, then, is a
Divine disposition, a Divine ordinance. Even when, as
in the present instance, it is formally made by men, this
is still on lines laid down by God; the covenanting is a
voluntary act of adhesion to a law which comes from God.
Therefore the terms of the covenant are fixed, and not
to be discussed by the signatories. This is of the very
essence of Judaism as a religion of Divine law. Then
though the sealing is voluntary, it entails a great obligation;
henceforth the covenant people are bound by the
covenant which they have deliberately entered into.
This, too, is a characteristic of the religion of law.
It is a bondage, though a bondage willingly submitted
to by those who stoop to its yoke. To St. Paul it
became a crushing slavery. But the burden was not felt
at first, simply because neither the range of The Law,
nor the searching force of its requirements, nor the
weakness of men to keep their vows, was yet perceived
by the sanguine Jews who so unhesitatingly
surrendered to it. As we look back to their position
from the vantage ground of Christian liberty, we are
astounded at the Jewish love of law, and we rejoice
in our freedom from its irksome restraints. And yet
the Christian is not an antinomian; he is not a sort
of free lance, sworn to no obedience. He too has his
obligation. He is bound to a lofty service—not to a law,
indeed, but to a personal Master; not in the servitude of
the letter, but, though with the freedom of the spirit,
really with far higher obligations of love and fidelity
than were ever recognised by the most rigorous covenant-keeping
Jews. Thus he has a new covenant,
sealed in the blood of his Saviour; and his communion
with his Lord implies a sacramental vow of loyalty.
The Christian covenant, however, is not visibly exhibited,
because a formal pledge is scarcely in accordance
with the spirit of the gospel. We find it better
to take a more self-distrustful course, one marked by
greater dependence of faith on the preserving grace of
God, by turning our vows into prayers. While the Jews
"entered into a curse and into an oath" to keep the law,
we shrink from anything so terrible; yet our duty is not
the less because we limit our professions of it.
The Jews were prepared for their covenant by two
essential preliminaries. The first was knowledge. The
reading of The Law preceded the covenant, which was
entered into intelligently. There is no idea of what
is called "implicit faith." The whole situation is
clearly surveyed, and The Law is adopted with a consciousness
of what it means as far as the understanding
of its requirements by the people will yet penetrate into
its signification. It is necessary to count the cost before
entering on a course of religious service. With a view
to this our Lord spoke of the "narrow way" and the
"cross," much to the disappointment of His more
sanguine disciples, but as a real security for genuine
loyalty. With religion, of all things, it is foolish to take
a leap in the dark. Judaism and Christianity absolutely
contradict the idea that "Ignorance is the mother of
devotion."
The second preparation consisted in the moral effect
on the Jews of the review of their history in the light
of religion, and their consequent confession of sin and
acknowledgment of God's goodness. Here was the
justification for the written law. The old methods had
failed. The people had not kept the desultory Torah
of the prophets. They needed a more formal system
of discipline. Here too were the motives for adopting
the covenant. Penitence for the nation's miserable past
prompted the desire for a better future, and gratitude
for the overwhelming goodness of God roused an enthusiasm
of devotion. Nothing urges us to surrender
ourselves to God so much as these two motives—our
repentance and His goodness. They are the two
powerful magnets that draw souls to Christ.
The chronicler—always delighting in any opportunity
to insert his lists of names—records the names of the
signatories of the covenant. The seals of these men
were of importance so long as the original document to
which they were affixed was preserved, and so long as
any recognised descendants of the families they represented
were living. To us they are of interest because
they indicate the orderly arrangement of the nation and
the thoroughness of procedure in the ratification of the
covenant. Nehemiah, who is again called by his
Persian title Tirshatha, appears first. This fact is
to be noted as a sign that as yet even in a religious
document the civil ruler takes precedence of the
hierarchy. At present it is allowed for a layman to
head the list of leading Israelites. We might have
looked for Ezra's name in the first place, for he it was
who had taken the lead in the introduction of The Law,
while Nehemiah had retreated into the background
during the whole month's proceedings. But the name
of Ezra does not appear anywhere on the document.
The probable explanation of its absence is that only
heads of houses affixed their seals, and that Ezra was
not accounted one of them. Nehemiah's position in the
document is official. The next name, Zedekiah, possibly
stands for Zadok the Scribe mentioned later,Neh. xiii. 13.
who
may have been the writer of the document, or perhaps
Nehemiah's secretary. Then come the priests. It was
not the business of these men to assist in the reading of
The Law. While the Levites acted as scribes and instructors
of the people, the priests were chiefly occupied
with the temple ritual and the performance of the other
ceremonies of religion. The Levites were teachers of
The Law; the priests were its administrators. In the
question of the execution of The Law, therefore, the
priests have a prominent place, and after remaining in
obscurity during the previous engagements, they naturally
come to the front when the national acceptance of
the Pentateuch is being confirmed. The hierarchy is so
far established that, though the priests follow the lay
ruler of Jerusalem, they precede the general body of
citizens, and even the nobility. No doubt many of the
higher families were in the line of the priesthood. But
this was not the case with all of them, and therefore we
must see here a distinct clerical precedence over all but
the very highest rank.
Most of the names in this list of priests occur again
in a list of those who came up with Zerubbabel and
Jeshua,Neh. xii. 1-7.
from which fact we must infer that they
represent families, not individuals. But some of the
names in the other list are missing here. A most
significant omission is that of the high-priest. Are we
merely to suppose that some names have dropped out
in course of transcription? Or was the high-priest,
with some of his brethren, unwilling to sign the
covenant? We have had earlier signs that the high-priest
did not enjoy the full confidence of Ezra.E.g., Ezra viii. 33; where the high-priest is passed over in silence.
The
heads of the hierarchy may have resented the popularising
of The Law. Since formerly, while the people
were often favoured with the moral Torah of the
prophets, the ceremonial Torah of the priests was kept
among the arcana of the initiated, the change may not
have been pleasing to its old custodians. Then these
conservatives may not have approved of Ezra's latest
recension of The Law. A much more serious difficulty
lay with those priests who had contracted foreign
marriages, and who had favoured the policy of alliance
with neighbouring peoples which Ezra had so fiercely
opposed. Old animosities from this source were still
smouldering in the bosoms of some of the priests. But
apart from any specific grounds of disaffection, it is
clear that there never was much sympathy between the
scribes and the priests. Putting all these considerations
together, it is scarcely too much to conjecture
that the absentees were designedly holding back when
the covenant was signed. The only wonder is that the
disaffected minority was so small.
According to the new order advised by Ezekiel and
now established, the Levites take the second place and
come after the priests, as a separate and inferior order
of clergy. Yet the hierarchy is so far honoured that
even the lowest of the clergy precede the general body
of the laity. We come down to the porters, the
choristers, and the temple-helots before we hear of the
mass of the people. When this lay element is reached,
the whole of it is included. Men, women, and children
are all represented in the covenant. The Law had been
read to all classes, and now it is accepted by all classes.
Thus again the rights and duties of women and children
in religion are recognised, and the thoroughly domestic
character of Judaism is provided for. There is a solidity
in the compact. A common obligation draws all who
are included in it together. The population generally
follows the example of the leaders. "They clave to
their brethren, their nobles,"Neh. x. 29.
says the chronicler. The
most effective unifying influence is a common enthusiasm
in a great cause. The unity of Christendom will only
be restored when the passion of loyalty to Christ is
supreme in every Christian, and when every Christian
acknowledges that this is the case with all his brother-Christians.
It is clear that the obligation of the covenant extended
to the whole law. This is called "God's law, which was
given by Moses the servant of God."Ibid.
Nothing can be
clearer than that in the eyes of the chronicler, at all
events, it was the Mosaic law. We have seen many
indications of this view in the chroniclers narrative.
Can we resist the conclusion that it was held by the
contemporaries of Ezra and Nehemiah? We are repeatedly
warned against the mistake of supposing that
the Pentateuch was accepted as a brand-new document.
On the contrary, it was certainly received on the
authority of the Mosaic origin of its contents, and
because of the Divine authority that accompanied this
origin. By the Jews it was viewed as the law of
Moses, just as in Roman jurisprudence every law was
considered to be derived from the "Twelve Tables."
No doubt Ezra also considered it to be a true interpretation
of the genius of Mosaism adapted to modern
requirements. If we keep this clearly before our minds,
the Pentateuchal controversy will lose its sharpest points
of conflict. The truth here noted once more is so often
disregarded that it needs to be repeatedly insisted on at
the risk of tautology.
After the general acceptance of the whole law, the
covenant specifies certain important details. First
comes the separation from the heathen—the burning
question of the day. Next we have Sabbath observance—also
made especially important, because it was distinctive
of Judaism as well as needful for the relief of
poor and oppressed labourers. But the principal part of
the schedule is occupied with pledges for the provision
of the temple services. Immense supplies of fuel would
be required for the numerous sacrifices, and therefore
considerable prominence was given to the collecting
of wood; subsequently a festival was established to
celebrate this action. According to a later tradition,
Nehemiah kindled the flames on the great altar of
the burnt-offerings with supernatural fire.2 Macc. i. 19-22.
Like the
Vestal virgins at Rome, the temple officials were to
tend the sacred fire as a high duty, and never let it
go out. "Fire shall be kept burning upon the altar
continually,"Lev. vi. 13.
was the Levitical rule. Thus the very
greatest honour was given to the rite of sacrifice. As
the restoration of the religion of Israel began with the
erection of the altar before the temple was built, so the
preservation of that religion was centred in the altar
fire—and so, we may add, its completion was attained
in the supreme sacrifice of Christ.
Finally, special care was taken for what we may call
"Church finance" in the collection of the tithes. This
comes last; yet it has its place. Not only is it necessary
for the sake of the work that is to be carried on; it is
also important in regard to the religious obligation
of the worshipper. The cry for a cheap religion is
irreligious, because real religion demands sacrifices,
and, indeed, necessarily promotes the liberal spirit
from which those sacrifices flow. But if the contributions
are to come within the range of religious duties,
they must be voluntary. Clearly this was the case
with the Jewish tithes, as we may see for two reasons.
First, they were included in the covenant; and adhesion
to this was entirely voluntary. Secondly, Malachi rebuked
the Jews for withholding the payment of tithes
as a sin against God,Mal. iii. 8-12.
showing that the payment only
rested on a sense of moral obligation on the part of the
people. It would have been difficult to go further while
a foreign government was in power, even if the religious
leaders had desired to do so. Moreover, God can only
accept the offerings that are given freely with heart and
will, for all He cares for is the spirit of the gift.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE HOLY CITY.
Nehemiah vii. 1-4; xi.
We have seen that though the two passages that
deal with the sparsity of the population of
Jerusalem are separated in our Bibles by the insertion
of the section on the reading of The Law and the
formation of the covenant, they are, in fact, so closely
related that, if we skip the intermediate section, the
one runs on into the other quite smoothly, as by a
continuous narrative;Pages 271-273.
that is to say, we may pass
from Nehemiah vii. 4 to Nehemiah xi. 1 without the
slightest sign of a junction of separate paragraphs. So
naive and crude is the chronicler's style, that he has
left the raw edges of the narrative jagged and untrimmed,
and thereby he has helped us to see distinctly
how he has constructed his work. The foreign matter
which he has inserted in the great gash is quite
different in style and contents from that which precedes
and follows it. This is marked with the Ezra
stamp, which indicates that in all probability it is
founded on notes left by the scribe; but the broken
narrative in the midst of which it appears is derived
from Nehemiah, the first part consisting of memoirs
written by the statesman himself, and the second
part being an abbreviation of the continuation of
Nehemiah's writing. The beginning of this second
part directly links it on to the first part, for the word
"and" has no sort of connection with the immediately
preceding Ezra section, while it exactly fits into the
broken end of the previous Nehemiah section; only
with his characteristic indifference to secular affairs, in
comparison with matters touching The Law and the
temple worship, the chronicler abbreviates the conclusion
of Nehemiah's story. It is easy to see how he
constructs his book in this place. He has before him
two documents—one written by Nehemiah, the other
written either by Ezra or by one of his close associates.
At first he follows Nehemiah, but suddenly he discovers
that he has reached the date when the Ezra
record should come in. Therefore, without any concern
for the irregularity of style that he is perpetrating,
he suddenly breaks off Nehemiah's narrative
to insert the Ezra material, at the end of which he
simply goes back to the Nehemiah document, and
resumes it exactly where he has left it, except that now,
after introducing it in the language of the original
writer, he compresses the fragment, so that the composition
passes over into the third person. It is not to
be supposed that this is done arbitrarily or for no good
reason. The chronicler here intends to tell his story
in chronological order. He shows that the course
of events referred to at the opening of the seventh
chapter really was broken by the occurrences the record
of which then follows. The interruptions in the narrative
just correspond to the real interruptions in the
historical facts. History is not a smooth-flowing river;
its course is repeatedly broken by rocks and shoals,
and sometimes entirely deflected by impassable cliffs.
In the earlier part of the narrative we read of Nehemiah's
anxiety on account of the sparsity of the population
of Jerusalem; but before he was able to carry
out any plans for the increase of the number of inhabitants
the time of the great autumn festivals was
upon him, and the people were eager to take advantage
of the public holidays that then fell due in order to induce
Ezra to read to them the wonderful book he had
brought up from Babylon years before, and of which
he had not yet divulged the contents. This was not
waste time as regards Nehemiah's project. Though
the civil governor stood in the background during the
course of the great religious movement, he heartily
seconded the clerical leaders of it in their efforts to enlighten
and encourage the people, and he was the first
to seal the covenant which was its fruit. Then the
people who had been instructed in the principles of
their faith and consecrated to its lofty requirements
were fitted to take their places as citizens of the Holy
City.
The "population question" which troubled Nehemiah
at this time is so exactly opposite to that which gives
concern to students of social problems in our own day,
that we need to look into the circumstances in which
it emerged in order to understand its bearings. The
powerful suction of great towns, depleting the rural
districts and gorging the urban, is a source of the
greatest anxiety to all who seriously contemplate the
state of modern society; and consequently one of the
most pressing questions of the day is how to scatter
the people over the land. Even in new countries the
same serious condition is experienced—in Australia,
for instance, where the crowding of the people into
Melbourne is rapidly piling up the very difficulties
sanguine men hoped the colonies would escape. If we
only had these modern facts to draw upon, we might
conclude that a centripetal movement of population was
inevitable. That it is not altogether a novelty we may
learn from the venerable story of the Tower of Babel,
from which we may also gather that it is God's will
that men should spread abroad and replenish the
earth.
It is one of the advantages of the study of history
that it lifts us out of our narrow grooves and reveals to
us an immense variety of modes of life, and this is not
the least of the many elements of profit that come to
us from the historical embodiment of revelation as we
have it in the Bible. The width of vision that we may
thus attain to will have a double effect. It will save
us from being wedded to a fixed policy under all circumstances;
and it will deliver us from the despair
into which we should settle down, if we did not see
that what looks to us like a hopeless and interminable
drift in the wrong direction is not the permanent
course of human development. It is necessary to consider
that if the dangers of a growing population are
serious, those of a dwindling population are much
more grave.
Nehemiah was in a position to see the positive advantages
of city life, and he regarded it as his business
to make the most of them for the benefit of his fellow-countrymen.
We have seen that each of the three great
expeditions from Babylon up to Jerusalem had its
separate and distinctive purpose. The aim of the first,
under Zerubbabel and Jeshua, was the rebuilding of the
temple; the object of the second, under Ezra, was the
establishment of The Law; and the end of the third,
under Nehemiah, was the fortification and strengthening
of the city. This end was before the patriotic statesman's
mind from the very first moment when he was
startled and grieved at hearing the report of the ruinous
condition of the walls of Jerusalem which his brother
brought to him in the palace at Susa. We may be
sure that with so practical a man it was more than
a sentimental reverence for venerated sites that led
Nehemiah to undertake the great work of fortifying the
city of his fathers' sepulchres. He had something else
in view than to construct a huge mausoleum. His
aim had too much to do with the living present to
resemble that of Rizpah guarding the corpses of her
sons from the hovering vultures. Nehemiah believed
in the future of Jerusalem, and therefore he would not
permit her to remain a city of ruins, unguarded, and a
prey to every chance comer. He saw that she had a
great destiny yet to fulfil, and that she must be made
strong if ever she was to accomplish it. It is to the
credit of his keen discernment that he perceived this
essential condition of the firm establishment of Israel
as a distinctive people in the land of Palestine. Ezra
was too literary, too abstract, too much of an idealist
to see it, and therefore he struggled on with his teaching
and exhorting till he was simply silenced by the unlooked-for
logic of facts. Nehemiah perfectly comprehended
this logic, and knew how to turn it to the
advantage of his own cause.
The fierce antagonism of the Samaritans is an indirect
confirmation of the wisdom of Nehemiah's plans.
Sanballat and his associates saw clearly enough that,
if Jerusalem were to become strong again, the metropolitan
pre-eminence—which had shifted from this city
to Samaria after the Babylonian conquest—would
revert to its old seat among the hills of Judah and
Benjamin. Now this pre-eminence was of vital importance
to the destinies of Israel. It was not possible
for the people in those early days to remain separate
and compact, and to work out their own peculiar
mission, without a strong and safe centre. We have
seen Judaism blossoming again as a distinctive phenomenon
in the later history of the Jews, after the
destruction of Jerusalem by the Romans. But this
most wonderful fact in ethnology is indirectly due to
the work of Ezra and Nehemiah. The readiness to
intermarry with foreigners shown by the contemporaries
of the two great reformers proves conclusively that,
unless the most stringent measures had been taken for
the preservation of its distinctive life, Israel would have
melted away into the general mass of amalgamated
races that made up the Chaldæan and Persian empires.
The military protection of Jerusalem enabled her
citizens to maintain an independent position in defiance
of the hostile criticism of her neighbours, and
the civil importance of the city helped to give moral
weight to her example in the eyes of the scattered
Jewish population outside her walls. Then the worship
at the temple was a vital element in the newly
modelled religious organisation, and it was absolutely
essential that this should be placed beyond the danger
of being tampered with by foreign influences, and at
the same time that it should be adequately supported by
a sufficient number of resident Jews. Something like
the motive that induces the Pope to desire the restoration
of the temporal power of the Papacy—perfectly
wise and reasonable from his point of view—would
urge the leaders of Judaism to secure as far as possible
the political independence of the centre of their religion.
It is to be observed that Nehemiah desired an
increase of the population for the immediate purpose of
strengthening the garrison of Jerusalem. The city had
been little better than "a lodge in a garden of cucumbers"
till her new governor had put forth stupendous efforts
which resulted in converting her into a fortress. Now
the fortress required to be manned. Everything indicates
anxiety about the means of defence. Nehemiah
placed two men at the head of this vital function—his
own brother Hanani, whose concern about the city had
been evinced in his report of its condition to Nehemiah
at Susa, and Hananiah the commandant of the citadel.
This Hananiah was known to be "faithful"—a great
point while traitors in the highest places were intriguing
with the enemy. He was also exceptionally God-fearing,
described as one who "feared God above many"—another
point recognised by Nehemiah as of supreme
importance in a military officer. Here we have an
anticipation of the Puritan spirit which required the
Cromwellian soldiers to be men of sterling religious
character. Nehemiah would have had no hesitation if
he had been placed in the dilemma of the Athenians when
they were called to choose between Aristides the good
and Themistocles the clever. With him—much as brains
were needed, and he showed this in his own sleepless
astuteness—integrity and religion were the first requisites
for an office of responsibility.
The danger of the times is further indicated by the
new rule with regard to the opening of the gates.
Oriental custom would have permitted this at dawn.
Nehemiah would not allow it before the full daytime,
"until the sun be hot." Levites were to mount guard
by day—an indication of the partially ecclesiastical
character of the civil government. The city was a sort
of extended temple, and its citizens constituted a Church
watched over by the clergy. At night the citizens
themselves were to guard the walls, as more watchers
would be needed during the hours of darkness to protect
the city against an assault by surprise. Now these
facts point to serious danger and arduous toil. Naturally
many men would shrink from the yoke of citizenship
under such circumstances. It was so much pleasanter,
so much easier, so much quieter for people to live in
the outlying towns and villages, near to their own
farms and vineyards. Therefore it was necessary to
take a tenth of the rural population in order to increase
that of the town. The chronicler expressly notes that
"the rulers of the people" were already dwelling in
Jerusalem. These men realised their responsibility.
The officers were to the fore; the men who needed to
be urged to their duty were the privates. No doubt
there was more to attract the upper classes to the
capital, while their agricultural occupations would
naturally draw many of the poorer people into the
country, and we must not altogether condemn the
latter as less patriotic than the former. We cannot
judge the relative merits of people who act differently
till we know their several circumstances. Still it
remains true that it is often the man with the one
talent who buries his charge, because with him the
sense of personal insignificance becomes a temptation to
the neglect of duty. Hence arises one of the most
serious dangers to a democracy. When this danger is
not mastered, the management of public affairs falls into
the hands of self-seeking politicians, who are ready to
wreck the state for their private advantage. It is most
essential, therefore, that a public conscience should be
aroused and that people should realise their duty to their
community—to the town in which they live, the country
to which they belong.
Nehemiah's simple expedient succeeded, and praise
was earned by those Jews who yielded to the sacred
decision of the lot and abandoned their pleasant rustic
retreats to take up the more trying posts of sentinels in
a garrison. According to his custom, the chronicler
proceeds to show us how the people were organised.
His many names have long ceased to convey the living
interest that must have clustered round them when the
families they represented were still able to recognise
their ancestors in the roll of honour. But incidentally
he imports into his register a note about the Great
King's concern for the temple worship, from which we
learn that Artaxerxes made special provision for the
support of the choristers, and that he entertained a
Jewish representative in his court to keep him informed
on the condition of the distant city. Thus we have
another indication of the royal patronage which was
behind the whole movement for the restoration of the
Jews. Nevertheless the piteous plaint of the Jews on
their great fast day shows us that their servitude galled
them sorely. Men who could utter that cry would not
be bribed into a state of cheerful satisfaction by the kindness
of their master in subscribing to their choir fund,
although doubtless the contribution was made in a spirit
of well-meaning generosity. The ideal City of God had
not yet appeared, and the hint of the dependence of Jerusalem
on royal patronage is a significant reminder of the
sad fact. It never did appear, even in the brightest days
of the earthly Jerusalem. But God was teaching His
people through the history of that unhappy city how
high the true ideal must be, and so preparing them for
the heavenly city, the New Jerusalem.
Now we may take the high ideal that was slowly
emerging throughout the ages, and see how God intends
to have it realised in the City of God which, from the
days of Saint Augustine, we have learnt to look for in
the Church of Christ. The two leading thoughts connected
with the Holy City in the phase of her history
that is now passing under our notice are singularly
applicable to the Christian community.
First, the characteristic life of the city. Enclosed
within walls the city gained a peculiar character and
performed a distinctive mission of her own. Our Lord
was not satisfied to rescue stray sheep on the mountains
only to brand them with His mark and then turn them
out again to graze in solitude. He drew them as a
flock after Himself, and His disciples gathered them
into the fold of Church fellowship. This is of as vital
importance to the cause of Christianity as the civic
organisation of Jerusalem was to that of Judaism. The
Christian City of God stands out before the world on
her lofty foundation, the Rock of Ages—a beacon of
separation from sin, a testimony to the grace of God,
a centre for the confession of faith, a home for social
worship, a rallying point for the forces of holy warfare,
a sanctuary for the helpless and oppressed.
Second, the public duty of a citizenship. The reluctance
of Christians to accept the responsibilities of Church
membership may be compared to the backwardness of
the Jews to dwell in their metropolis. Like Jerusalem
in the time of Nehemiah, the City of God to-day is an
outpost in the battle-field, a fortress surrounded by the
enemy's territory. It is traitorous to retire to the calm
cultivation of one's private garden-plot in the hour of
stress and strain when the citadel is threatened on all
sides. It is the plain duty of the people of God to
mount guard and take their turn as watchmen on the
walls of the Holy City.
May we carry the analogy one step further? The
king of Persia, though his realm stretched from the
Tigris to the Ægean, could not give much effectual
help to the true City of God. But the Divine King of
kings sends her constant supplies, and she too, like
Jerusalem, has her Representative at court, One who
ever lives to make intercession for her.
CHAPTER XXIX.
BEGINNINGS.
Nehemiah xii. 27-47.
A curious feature of the history of the restoration
of Israel already met with several times is postponement.
Thus in the days of Cyrus Zerubbabel
leads up an expedition for the express purpose of
building the temple at Jerusalem; but the work is not
executed until the reign of Darius. Again, Ezra brings
the book of The Law with him when he comes to the
city; yet he does not find an opportunity for publishing
it till some years later. Once more, Nehemiah sets to
work on the fortifications with the promptitude of a
practical man and executes his task with astonishing
celerity; still, even in his case the usual breach of
sequence occurs; here, too, we have interruption and
the intrusion of alien matters, so that the crowning act
of the dedication of the walls is delayed.
In this final instance we do not know how long a
postponement there was. Towards the end of his
work the chronicler is exceptionally abrupt and disconnected.
In the section xii. 27-43 he gives us an
extract from Nehemiah's memoirs, but without any
note of time. The preservation of another bit of the
patriot's original writing is interesting, not only because
of its assured historicity, but further because exceptional
importance is given to the records that have been
judged worthy of being extracted and made portions of
permanent scripture, although other sources are only
used by the chronicler as materials out of which to
construct his own narrative in the third person. While
we cannot assign its exact date to the subject of this
important fragment, one thing is clear from its position
in the story of the days of Nehemiah. The reading of
The Law, the great fast, the sealing of the covenant,
the census, and the regulations for peopling Jerusalem,
all came between the completion of the fortifications
and the dedication of them. The interruption and the
consequent delay were not without meaning and object.
After what had occurred in the interval, the people were
better prepared to enter into the ceremony of dedication
with intelligence and earnestness of purpose.
This act, although it was immediately directed to the
wall, was, as a matter of fact, the re-consecration of the
city; because the walls were built in order to preserve
the distinct individuality, unique integrity of what
they included. Now the Jews needed to know The
Law in order to understand the destiny of Jerusalem;
they needed to devote themselves personally to the
service of God, so that they might carry out that
destiny; and they needed to recruit the forces of the
Holy City, for the purpose of giving strength and
volume to its future. Thus the postponement of the
dedication made that event, when it came about, a
much more real thing than it would have been if it
had followed immediately on the building of the walls.
May we not say that in every similar case the personal
consecration must precede the material? The city
is what its citizens make it. They, and not its site
or its buildings, give it its true character. Jerusalem
and Babylon, Athens and Rome, are not to be distinguished
in their topography and architecture in anything
approaching the degree in which they are
individualised by the manners and deeds of their
respective peoples. Most assuredly the New Jerusalem
will just reflect the characters of her citizens. This
City of God will be fair and spotless only when they
who tread her streets are clad in the beauty of holiness.
In smaller details, too, and in personal matters, we can
only dedicate aright that which we are handling in a
spirit of earnest devotion. The miserable superstition
that clouds our ideas of this subject rises out of the
totally erroneous notion that it is possible to have holy
things without holy persons, that a mystical sanctity
can attach itself to any objects apart from an intelligent
perception of some sacred purpose for which they are
to be used. This materialistic notion degrades religion
into magic; it is next door to fetichism.
It is important, then, that we should understand what
we mean by dedication. Unfortunately in our English
Bible the word "dedicate" is made to stand for two
totally distinct Hebrew terms, oneקִדּש, Piel of קדשׁ
of which means to
"consecrate," to make holy, or set apart for God;
while the otherחָנַךְ
means to "initiate," to mark the
beginning of a thing. The first is used of functions
of ritual, priestly and sacrificial; but the second has a
much wider application, one that is not always directly
connected with religion. Thus we meet with this second
word in the regulations of Deuteronomy which lay
down the conditions on which certain persons are to be
excused from military service. The man who has built
a new house but who has not "dedicated" it is placed
side by side with one who has planted a vineyard and
with a third who is on the eve of his marriage.Deut. xx. 5-7.
Now
the first word—that describing real consecration—is
used of the priests' action in regard to their portion of
the wall, and in this place our translators have rendered
it "sanctified."Neh, iii. 1.
But in the narrative of the general
dedication of the walls the second and more secular
word is used. The same word is used, however, we
must notice, in the account of the dedication of the
temple.Ezra vi. 16.
In both these cases, and in all other cases of
the employment of the word, the chief meaning conveyed
by it is just initiation.Still in the earlier scene, the dedication of the temple, the sacred
use of the building makes the act of initiation to be equivalent to
consecration. There the connection gives the special association.
It signalises a commencement.
Therefore the ceremony at the new walls was designed
in the first instance to direct attention to the very fact
of their newness, and to call up those thoughts and
feelings that are suitable in the consideration of a time
of commencement. We must all acknowledge that such
a time is one for very earnest thought. All our beginnings
in life—the birth of a child, a young man's start
in the world, the wedding that founds the home, the
occupation of a new house, the entrance on a fresh line
of business—all such beginnings come to rouse us from
the indifference of routine, to speak to us with the voice
of Providence, to bid us look forward and prepare ourselves
for the future. We have rounded a corner, and
a new vista has opened up to our view. As we gaze
down the long aisle we must be heedless indeed if we
can contemplate the vision without a thrill of emotion,
without a thought of anticipation. The new departure in
external affairs is an opportunity for a new turn in our
inner life, and it calls for a reconsideration of our
resources and methods.
One of the charms of the Bible is that, like nature, it
is full of fresh starts. Inasmuch as a perennial breath
of new life plays among the pages of these ancient
scriptures, we have only to drink it in to feel what
inspiration there is here for every momentous beginning.
Just as the fading, dank autumn gives way to the
desolation of winter in order that in due time the
sleeping seeds and buds may burst out in the birth of
spring with the freshness of Eden, God has ordained
that the decaying old things of human life shall fall
away and be forgotten, while He calls us into the
heritage of the new—giving a new covenant, creating
a new heart, promising a new heaven and a new
earth. The mistake of our torpor and timidity is that
we will cling to the rags of the past and only patch
them with shreds of the later age, instead of boldly
flinging them on to clothe ourselves in the new garment
of praise which is to take the place of the old spirit of
heaviness.
The method in which a new beginning was celebrated
by the Jews in relation to their restored walls is illustrative
of the spirit in which such an event should always
be contemplated.
In the first place, as a preparation for the whole of
the subsequent ceremonies, the priests and Levites
carried out a great work of purification. They began
with themselves, because the men who are first in any
dealings with religion must be first in purity. Judged
by the highest standard, the only real difference of rank
in the Church is determined by varying degrees of
holiness; merely official distinctions and those that
arise from the unequal distribution of gifts cannot
affect anybody's position of honour in the sight of
God. The functions of the recognised ministry, in
particular, demand purity of character for their right
discharge. They that bear the vessels of the Lord
must be clean. And not only so in general; especially
in the matter of purification is it necessary that
those who carry out the work should first be pure
themselves. What here applied to priests and Levites
ceremonially applies in prosaic earnest to all who feel
called to purge society in the interest of true morality.
Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? The
leaders of moral reforms must be themselves morally
clean. Only regenerate men and women can regenerate
society. If the salt has lost its savour it
will not arrest corruption in the sacrifice that is salted
with it. But the purification does not cease with the
leaders. In ceremonial symbolism all the people and
even the very walls are also cleansed. This is done in
view of the new departure, the fresh beginning. Such
an occasion calls for much heart-searching and spiritual
cleansing—a truth which must have been suggested
to the minds of thoughtful people by the Levitical
ceremonies. It is a shame to bring the old stains into
the new scenes. The fresh, clean start calls for a new
and better life.
Next, it is to be observed, there was an organised
procession round the walls, a procession that included
citizens of every rank—princes, priests, Levites, and
representatives of the general community, described as
"Judah and Benjamin." Starting at the west end of the
city, these people were divided into two sections, one
led by Nehemiah going round by the north, and the
other conducted by Ezra proceeding by the south, so
that they met at the eastern side of the city; where
opposite the Mount of Olives and close to the temple,
they all united in an enthusiastic outburst of praise.
This arrangement was not carried out for any of the
idle ends of a popular pageant—to glorify the processionists,
or to amuse the spectators. It was to serve
an important practical purpose. By personal participation
in the ceremony of initiation, all sections of
the community would be brought to perceive its real
significance. Since the walls were in the keeping of
the citizens, it was necessary that the citizens should
acknowledge their privileges and responsibilities. Men
and women need to come individually and directly face
to face with new conditions of life. Mere dulness of
imagination encourages the lazy sense of indifference
with which so many people permit themselves to ignore
the claims of duty, and the same cause accounts for a
melancholy failure to appreciate the new blessings that
come from the untiring bounty of God.
In the third place, the behaviour of the processionists
invites our attention. The whole ceremony was one of
praise and gratitude. Levites were called in from the
outlying towns and villages where they had got themselves
homes, and even from that part of the Jordan
valley that lay nearest to Jerusalem. Their principal
function was to swell the chorus of the temple singers.
Musical instruments added emphasis to the shout of
human voices; clashing cymbals and finer toned harps
supported the choral song with a rich and powerful
orchestral accompaniment, which was augmented from
another quarter by a young band of trumpeters consisting
of some of the priests' sons. The immediate
aim of the music and singing was to show forth the
praises of God. The two great companies were to give
thanks while they went round the walls. Sacrifices of
thanksgiving completed the ceremony when the processions
were united and brought to a standstill near the
temple. The thanksgiving would arise out of a grateful
acknowledgment of the goodness of God in leading the
work of building the walls through many perils and
disappointments to its present consummation. Rarely
does anything new spring up all of a sudden without
some relation to our own past life and action; but
even that which is the greatest novelty and wonder
to us must have a cause somewhere. If we have
done nothing to prepare for the happy surprise, God
has done much. Thus the new start is an occasion for
giving thanks to its great Originator. But the thankfulness
also looks forward. The city was now in a
very much more hopeful condition than when Nehemiah
took his lonely night ride among its ghostly ruins. By
this time it was a compact and strongly fortified centre,
with solid defences and a good body of devoted citizens
pledged to do their part in pursuing its unique destiny.
The prospect of a happy future which this wonderful
transformation suggested afforded sufficient reasons for
the greatest thankfulness. The spirit of praise thus
called forth would be one of the best guarantees of the
fulfilment of the high hopes that it inspired. There is
nothing that so surely foredooms people to failure as a
despairing blindness to any perception of their advantages.
The grateful soul will always have most
ground for a renewal of gratitude. It is only just and
reasonable that God should encourage those of His
children who acknowledge His goodness, with fresh
acts of favour over and above what He does for all in
making His sun to shine and His rain to fall on the
bad as well as the good. But apart from considerations
of self-interest, the true spirit of praise will
delight to pour itself out in adoration of the great and
good Father of all blessings. It is a sign of sin or selfishness
or unbelief when the element of praise fails in our
worship. This is the purest and highest part of a
religious service, and it should take the first place in
the estimation of the worshippers. It will do so
directly a right sense of the goodness of God is
attained. Surely the best worship is that in which
man's needs and hopes and fears are all swallowed up
in the vision of God's love and glory, as the fields and
woods are lost in a dim purple haze when the sky is
aglow with the rose and saffron of a brilliant sunset.
Further, it is to be observed that a note of gladness
rings through the whole ceremony. The account of the
dedication concludes with the perfectly jubilant verse,
"And they offered great sacrifices that day, and
rejoiced; for God had made them rejoice with great joy;
and the women also and the children rejoiced: so that
the joy of Jerusalem was heard even afar off."Neh. xii. 43.
The joy
would be mingled with the praise, because when people
see the goodness of God enough to praise Him from
their hearts they cannot but rejoice; and then the joy
would react on the praise, because the more blessedness
God sends the more heartily must His grateful children
thank Him. Now the outburst of joy was accompanied
with sacrifices. In the deepest sense, a sense almost unknown
till it was revealed by Christ, there is a grand,
solemn joy in sacrifice. But even to those who have
only reached the Jewish standpoint, the self-surrender
expressed by a ceremonial sacrifice as a symbol of glad
thankfulness in turn affects the offerer so as to heighten
his gladness. No doubt there were mundane and
secular elements in this joy of a jubilant city. A
laborious and dangerous task had been completed;
the city had been fortified and made able to defend
itself against the horrors of an assault; there was a
fair prospect of comfort and perhaps even honour for
the oppressed and despised citizens of Jerusalem. But
beyond all this and beneath it, doubtless many had
discovered Nehemiah's great secret for themselves;
they had found their strength in the joy of the Lord.
In face of heathenish pleasures and superstitious terrors
it was much to know that God expected His holy
people to be happy, and more, to find that the direct
road to happiness was holiness. This was the best
part of the joy which all the people experienced with
more or less thought and appreciation of its meaning.
Joy is contagious. Here was a city full of gladness.
Nehemiah expressly takes note of the fact that the
women and children shared in the universal joy. They
must have been among the most pitiable sufferers in
the previous calamities; and they had taken their place
in the great Ecclesia when The Law was read, and
again when the sad confession of the nation's sin was
poured forth. It was well that they should not be left
out of the later scene, when joy and praise filled the
stage. For children especially who would not covet
this gladness in religion? It is only a miserable
short-sightedness that allows any one to put before
children ideas of God and spiritual things which must
repel, because of their gloom and sternness. Let us
reserve these ideas for the castigation of Pharisees.
A scene of joyous worship is truly typical of the
perfect City of God of which children are the typical
citizens—the New Jerusalem of whose inhabitants it
is said, "God shall wipe away all tears from their
eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow,
nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain; for
the former things are passed away."
Lastly, following his extract from the memoirs of
Nehemiah, the chronicler shows how the glad spirit
of this great day of dedication flowed out and manifested
itself in those engagements to which he was always
delighted to turn—the Levitical services. Thus the
tithe gathering and the temple psalmody were helped
forward. The gladness of religion is not confined to
set services of public worship; but when those services
are held it must flood them with the music of praise.
It is impossible for the worship of God's house to be
limp and depressed when the souls of His children are
joyous and eager. A half-hearted, melancholy faith
may be content with neglected churches and slovenly
services—but not a joyous religion which men and
women love and glory in. While "The joy of the Lord"
has many happy effects on the world, it also crowds
churches, fills treasuries, sustains various ministries,
inspires hymns of praise, and brings life and vigour
into all the work of religion.
CHAPTER XXX.
THE RIGOUR OF THE REFORMER.
Nehemiah xiii.
There is no finality in history. The chapter that
seems to be rounded on with a perfect conclusion
always leaves room for an appendix, which in its
turn may serve as an introduction to another chapter.
Ezra's and Nehemiah's work seemed to have reached
its climax in the happy scene of the dedication of the
walls. All difficulties had vanished; the new order
had been greeted with widespread enthusiasm; the
future promised to be smooth and prosperous. If the
chronicler had laid down his pen at this point, as any
dramatist before Ibsen who was not bound by the
exigencies of prosaic facts would have done, his work
might have presented a much more artistic appearance
than it now wears. And yet it would have been
artificial, and therefore false to the highest art of
history. In adding a further extract from Nehemiah's
memoirs that discloses a revival of the old troubles,
and so shows that the evils against which the reformers
contended had not been stamped out, the writer mars
the literary effect of his record of their triumph; but,
at the same time, he satisfies us that he is in contact
with real life, its imperfections and its disappointments.
It is not easy to settle the time of the incident
mentioned in chapter xiii. 1-3. The phrase "on that
day" with which the passage opens seems to point
back to the previous chapter. If so it cannot be taken
literally, because what it describes must be assigned to
a later period than the contents of the paragraph that
follows it. It forms an introduction to the extract from
Nehemiah's memoirs, and its chronological position is
even later than the date of the first part of the extract,
because that begins with the words "And before this,"Neh. xiii. 4.
i.e., before the incident that opens the chapter. Now it is
clear that Nehemiah's narrative here refers to a time considerably
after the transactions of the previous chapter,
inasmuch as he states that when the first of the occurrences
he now records happened he was away in the
court of Artaxerxes.Neh. xiii. 6.
Still later, then, must that event
be placed before which this new incident occurred. We
might perhaps suppose that the phrase "at that day"
is carried over directly from the chronicler's original
source and belongs to its antecedents in that document;
but so clumsy a piece of joinery is scarcely admissible.
It is better to take the phrase quite generally. Whatever
it meant when first penned, it is clear that the
events it introduces belong only indefinitely to the times
previously mentioned. We are really landed by them
in a new state of affairs. Here we must notice that
the introductory passage is immediately connected
with the Nehemiah record. It tells how the law from
Deuteronomy requiring the exclusion of the Ammonite
and the Moabite was read and acted on. This is to
be remembered when we are studying the subsequent
events.
When Nehemiah's extended leave of absence had
come to an end, or when perhaps he had been expressly
summoned back by Artaxerxes, his return to
Babylon was followed by a melancholy relapse in the
reformed city of Jerusalem. This is not by any means
astonishing. Nothing so hinders and distresses the
missionary as the repeated outbreak of their old
heathen vices among his converts. The drunkard
cannot be reckoned safe directly he has signed the
pledge. Old habits may be damped down without
being extinguished, and when this is the case they will
flame up again as soon as the repressive influence is
removed. In the present instance there was a distinct
party in the city, consisting of some of the most prominent
and influential citizens, which disapproved of
the separatist, puritanical policy of the reformers and
advocated a more liberal course. Some of its members
may have been conscientious men, who honestly deplored
what they would regard as the disastrous state
of isolation brought about by the action of Ezra and
Nehemiah. After having been silenced for a time by
the powerful presence of the great reformers, these
people would come out and declare themselves when
the restraining influences were removed. Meanwhile we
hear no more of Ezra. Like Zerubbabel in the earlier
period, he drops out of the history without a hint as to
his end. He may have returned to Babylon, thinking
his work complete; possibly he had been recalled by
the king.
It is likely that some rumours of the declension
of Jerusalem reached Nehemiah at the Persian court.
But he did not discover the whole extent of this retrograde
movement until he was once more in the city,
with a second leave of absence from Artaxerxes. Then
there were four evils that he perceived with great grief.
The first was that Tobiah had got a footing in the city.
In the earlier period this "servant" had been carrying
on intrigues with some members of the aristocracy.
The party of opposition had done its best to represent
him in a favourable light to Nehemiah, and all the
while this party had been traitorously keeping Tobiah
informed of the state of affairs in the city. But now a
further step was taken. Though one of the three leading
enemies of Nehemiah, the ally and supporter of the
Samaritan governor Sanballat, this man was actually
permitted to have a lodging in the precincts of the
temple. The locality was selected, doubtless, because
it was within the immediate jurisdiction of the priests,
among whom the Jewish opponents of Nehemiah were
found. It is as though, in his quarrel with Henry,
Thomas à Becket had lodged a papal envoy in the
cathedral close at Canterbury. To a Jew who did not
treat the ordinances of religion with the Sadducean
laxity that was always to be found in some of the
leading members of the priesthood, this was most
abhorrent. He saw in it a defilement of the neighbourhood
of the temple, if not of the sacred enclosure
itself, as well as an insult to the former governor of
the city. Tobiah may have used his room for the
purpose of entertaining visitors in state; but it may
only have been a warehouse for trade stores, as it had
previously been a place in which the bulky sacrificial
gifts were stowed away. Such a degradation of it,
superseding its previous sacred use, would aggravate
the evil in the sight of so strict a man as Nehemiah.
The outrage was easily accounted for. Tobiah was
allied by marriage to the priest who was the steward of
this chamber. Thus we have a clear case of trouble
arising out of the system of foreign marriages which
Ezra had so strenuously opposed. It seems to have
opened the eyes of the younger reformer to the evil of
these marriages, for hitherto we have not found him
taking any active part in furthering the action of Ezra
with regard to them. Possibly he had not come across
an earlier instance. But now it was plain enough that
the effect was to bring a pronounced enemy of all he
loved and advocated into the heart of the city, with the
rights of a tenant, too, to back him up. If "evil communications
corrupt good manners," this was most
injurious to the cause of the reformation. The time
had not arrived when a generous spirit could dare to
welcome all-comers to Jerusalem. The city was still a
fortress in danger of siege. More than that, it was
a Church threatened with dissolution by reason of
the admission of unfit members. Whatever we may
say to the social and political aspects of the case,
ecclesiastically regarded, laxity at the present stage
would have been fatal to the future of Judaism, and
the mere presence of such a man as Tobiah, openly
sanctioned by a leading priest, was a glaring instance
of laxity; Nehemiah was bound to stop the
mischief.
The second evil was the neglect of the payments due
to the Levites. It is to be observed again that the
Levites are most closely associated with the reforming
position. Religious laxity and indifference had had an
effect on the treasury for which these men were the
collectors. The financial thermometer is a very rough
test of the spiritual condition of a religious community,
and we often read it erroneously, not only because we
cannot gauge the amount of sacrifice made by people in
very different circumstances, nor just because we are
unable to discover the motives that prompt the giving of
alms "before men"; but also, when every allowance
is made for these causes of uncertainty, because the
gifts which are usually considered most generous rarely
involve enough strain and effort to bring the deepest
springs of life into play. And yet it must be allowed
that a declining subscription list is usually to be
regarded as one sign of waning interest on the part of
the supporters of any public movement. When we
consider the matter from the other side, we must
acknowledge that the best way to improve the pecuniary
position of any religious enterprise is not to work the
exhausted pump more vigorously, but to drive the well
deeper and tap the resources of generosity that lie
nearer the heart—not to beg harder, but to awaken a
better spirit of devotion.
The third indication of backsliding that vexed the
soul of Nehemiah was Sabbath profanation. He saw
labour and commerce both proceeding on the day
of rest—Jews treading the winepress, carrying the
sheaves, lading their asses, and bringing loads of wine,
grapes, and figs, and all sorts of wares, into Jerusalem
for sale; and fishmongers and pedlars from Tyre—not,
of course, themselves to be blamed for failing to respect
the festival of a people whose religion they did not share—pouring
into the city, and opening their markets as
on any weekday. Nehemiah was greatly alarmed. He
went at once to the nobles, who seem to have been
governing the city, as a sort of oligarchy, during his
absence, and expostulated with them on their danger
of provoking the wrath of God again, urging that
Sabbath-breaking had been one of the offences which
had called down the judgment of Heaven on their
fathers. Then he took means to prevent the coming
of foreign traders on the Sabbath, by ordering the gates
to be kept closed from Friday evening till the sacred
day was over. Once or twice these people came up as
usual, and camped just outside the city; but as this
was disturbing to the peace of the day, Nehemiah
threatened that if they repeated the annoyance he would
lay hands on them. Lastly, he charged the Levites,
first to cleanse themselves that they might be ready
to undertake a work of purification, and then to take
charge of the gates on the Sabbath and see that the
day was hallowed in the cessation of all labour. Thus
both by persuasion and by vigorous active measures
Nehemiah put an end to the disorder.
The importance attached to this matter is a sign of
the prominence given to Sabbath-keeping in Judaism.
The same thing was seen earlier in the selection of the
law of the Sabbath as one of the two or three rules to
be specially noted, and to which the Jews were to particularly
pledge themselves in the covenant.Neh. x. 31.
Reference
was then made to the very act of the Tyrians now
complained of, the offering of wares and food for
sale in Jerusalem on the Sabbath day. Putting
these two passages together, we can see where the
Sabbath-breaking came from. It was the invasion of
a foreign custom—like the dreaded introduction of the
"Continental Sunday" into England. Now to Nehemiah
the fact of the foreign origin of the custom would
be a heavy condemnation for it. Next to circumcision,
Sabbath-keeping was the principal mark of the Jew.
In the days of our Lord it was the most highly prized
feature of the ancient faith. This was then so obvious
that it was laid hold of by Roman satirists, who knew
little about the strange traders in the Ghetto except that
they "sabbatised." Nehemiah saw that if the sacred
day of rest were to be abandoned, one of his bulwarks
of separation would be lost. Thus for him, with his
fixed policy, and in view of the dangers of his age,
there was a very urgent reason for maintaining the
Sabbath, a reason which of course does not apply to us
in England to-day. We must pass on to the teaching
of Christ to have this question put on a wider and more
permanent basis. With that Divine insight of His
which penetrated to the root of every matter, our Lord
saw through the miserable formalism that made an idol
of a day, and in so doing turned a boon into a burden;
at the same time He rescued the sublimely simple truth
which contains both the justification and the limitation
of the Sabbath, when He declared, "The Sabbath was
made for man, and not man for the Sabbath." In resisting
the rigour of legal-minded Sabbatarianism, the
modern mind seems to have confined its attention to the
second clause of this great utterance, to the neglect of its
first clause. Is it nothing, then, that Jesus said, "The
Sabbath was made for man"—not for the Jew only, but
for man? Although we may feel free from the religion
of law in regard to the observance of days as much as
in other external matters, is it not foolish for us to
minimise a blessing that Jesus Christ expressly declared
to be for the good of the human race? If the rest day
was needed by the Oriental in the slow-moving life of
antiquity, is it any less requisite for the Western in
the rush of these later times? But if it is necessary to
our welfare, the neglect of it is sinful. Thus not because
of the inherent sanctity of seasons, but on our
Lord's own ground of the highest utilitarianism—a
utilitarianism which reaches to other people, and even
to animals, and affects the soul as well as the body—the
reservation of one day in seven for rest is a
sacred duty. "The world is too much with us" for
the six days. We can ill afford to lose the recurrent
escape from its blighting companionship originally
provided by the seventh and now enjoyed on our
Sunday.
Lastly, Nehemiah was confronted by the social effects
of foreign marriage alliances. These alliances had been
contracted by Jews resident in the south-western corner
of Judæa, who may not have come under the influence
of Ezra's drastic reformation in Jerusalem, and who
probably were not married till after that event. They
afford another evidence of the counter current that was
running so strongly against the regulations of the party
of rigour while Nehemiah was away. The laxity of
the border people may be accounted for without calling
in any subtle motives. But their fault was shared
by a member of the gens of the high-priest, who had
actually wedded the daughter of Nehemiah's arch-enemy
Sanballat! Clearly this was a political alliance, and it
indicated a defiant reversal of the policy of the reformers
in the very highest circles. The offender, after being
expelled from Jerusalem, is said to have been the founder
of the Samaritan temple on Mount Gerizim.
Then the social mischief of the mixed marriages was
showing itself in the corruption of the Hebrew language.
The Philistine language was not allied to the Egyptian,
as some have thought, nor was it Indo-Germanic, as
others have supposed, but it was Semitic, and only a
different dialect from the Hebrew; and yet the difficulty
persons from the south of England feel in understanding
the speech of Yorkshiremen in remote parts of the
county will help us to account for a practical loss of
mutual intelligence between people of different dialects,
when these dialects were still more isolated by having
grown up in two separate and hostile nations. For the
children of Jewish parents to be talking with the tones
and accents of the hereditary enemies of Israel was
intolerable. When he heard the hated sounds, Nehemiah
simply lost his temper. With a curse on his lips
he rushed at the fathers, striking them and tearing
their hair. It was the rage of bitter disappointment;
but behind it lay the grim set purpose in holding to
which with dogged tenacity Ezra and Nehemiah saved
Judaism from extinction. Separatism is never gracious;
yet it may be right. The reformer is not generally of
a mild temperament. We may regret his harshness;
but we should remember that the world has only seen
one perfectly meek and yet thoroughly effective Revolutionist,
only one "Lamb of God" who could be also
named "the Lion of the tribe of Judah."
The whole situation was disappointing to Nehemiah,
and his memoir ends in a prayer beneath which
we can detect an undertone of melancholy. Three
times during this last section he appeals to God to
remember him—not to wipe out his good deeds,Neh. xiii. 14.
to
spare him according to the greatness of the Divine
mercy,Neh. xiii. 22.
and finally to remember him for good.Neh. xiii. 31.
The
memories of the Jerusalem covenanters had been
brief; during the short interval of their leader's absence
they had forgotten his discipline and fallen back into
negligent ways. It was vain to trust to the fickle
fancies of men. With a sense of weary loneliness,
taught to feel his own insignificance in that great tide
of human life that flows on in its own course though
the most prominent figures drop out of notice, Nehemiah
turned to his God, the one Friend who never forgets.
He was learning the vanity of the world's fame; yet
he shrank from the idea of falling into oblivion. Therefore
it was his prayer that he might abide in the memory
of God. This was by itself a restful thought. It is
cheering to think that we may dwell in the memory of
those we love. But to be held in the thought of God
is to have a place in the heart of infinite love. And
yet this was not the conclusion of the whole matter to
Nehemiah. It is really nothing better than a frivolous
vanity, that can induce any one to be willing to sacrifice
the prospect of a real eternal life in exchange for the
pallid shadow of immortality ascribed to the "choir
invisible" of those who are only thought of as living in
the memory of the world they have influenced enough to
win "a niche in the temple of fame." What is fame to
a dead man mouldering in his coffin? Even the higher
thought of being remembered by God is a poor consolation
in prospect of blank non-existence. Nehemiah
expects something better, for he begs God to remember
him in mercy and for good. It is a very narrow, prosaic
interpretation of this prayer to say that he only means
that he desires a blessing during the remainder of his
life in the court at Susa. On the other hand, it may be
too much to ascribe the definite hope of a future life to
this Old Testament saint. And yet, vague as his
thought may be, it is the utterance of a profound
yearning of the soul that breaks out in moments of
disappointment with an intensity never to be satisfied
within the range of our cramped mortal state. In this
utterance of Nehemiah we have, at least, a seed thought
that should germinate into the great hope of immortality.
If God could forget His children, we might expect them
to perish, swept aside like the withered leaves of autumn.
But if He continues to remember them, it is not just to
His Fatherhood to charge Him with permitting such a
fate to fall upon His offspring. No human father who
is worthy of the name would willingly let go the
children whom he cherishes in mind and heart. Is it
reasonable to suppose that the perfect Divine Father,
who is both almighty and all-loving, would be less
constant? But if He remembers His children, and
remembers them for good, He will surely preserve them.
If His memory is unfading, and if His love and power
are eternal, those who have a place in His immortal
thought must also have a share in His immortal life.
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE BOOK OF ESTHER: INTRODUCTORY.
There is a striking contrast between the high
estimation in which the Book of Esther is now
cherished among the Jews and the slighting treatment
that is often meted out to it in the Christian Church.
According to the great Maimonides, though the Prophets
and the Hagiographa will pass away when the
Messiah comes, this one book will share with The Law
in the honour of being retained. It is known as "The
Roll" par excellence, and the Jews have a proverb, "The
Prophets may fail, but not The Roll." The peculiar
importance attached to the book may be explained by
its use in the Feast of Purim—the festival which is
supposed to commemorate the deliverance of the Jews
from the murderous designs of Haman, and their
triumph over their Gentile enemies—for it is then read
through in the synagogue. On the other hand, the
grave doubts which were once felt by some of the
Jews have been retained and even strengthened in the
Christian Church. Esther was omitted from the Canon
by some of the Oriental Fathers. Luther, with the
daring freedom he always manifested in pronouncing
sentence on the books of the Bible, after referring to
the Second Book of Maccabees, says, "I am so hostile
to this book and that of Esther, that I wish they did
not exist; they are too Judaising, and contain many
heathenish improprieties." In our own day two classes
of objections have been raised.
The first is historical. By many the Book of Esther
is regarded as a fantastic romance; by some it is even
relegated to the category of astronomical myths; and
by others it is considered to be a mystical allegory.
Even the most sober criticism is troubled at its contents.
There can be no question that the Ahasuerus
(Ahashverosh) of Esther is the well-known Xerxes of
history, the invader of Greece who is described in
the pages of Herodotus. But then, it is asked, what
room have we for the story of Esther in the life of
that monarch? His wife was a cruel and superstitious
woman, named Amestris. We cannot identify her
with Esther, because she was the daughter of one of
the Persian generals, and also because she was married
to Xerxes many years before the date of Esther's
appearance on the scene. Two of her sons accompanied
the expedition to Greece, which must have
preceded the introduction of Esther to the harem.
Moreover, it was contrary to law for a Persian sovereign
to take a wife except from his own family, or from one
of five noble families. Can Amestris be identified with
Vashti? If so, it is certain that she must have been
restored to favour, because Amestris held the queen's
place in the later years of Xerxes, when the uxorious
monarch came more and more under her influence.
Esther, it is clear, can only have been a secondary wife
in the eyes of the law, whatever position she may have
held for a season in the court of the king. The predecessors
of Xerxes had several wives; our narrative
makes it evident that Ahasuerus followed the Oriental
custom of keeping a large harem. To Esther, at best,
therefore, must be assigned the place of a favourite
member of the seraglio.
Then it is difficult to think that Esther would not
have been recognised as a Jewess by Haman, since
the nationality of Mordecai, whose relationship to her
had not been hidden, was known in the city of Susa.
Moreover, the appalling massacre of "their enemies"
by the Jews, carried on in cold blood, and expressly
including "women and children," has been regarded as
highly improbable. Finally, the whole story is so well
knit together, its successive incidents arrange themselves
so perfectly and lead up to the conclusion with
such neat precision, that it is not easy to assign it to
the normal course of events. We do not expect to
meet with this sort of thing outside the realm of fairy
tales. Putting all these facts together, we must feel
that there is some force in the contention that the book
is not strictly historical.
But there is another side to the question. This book
is marvellously true to Persian manners. It is redolent
of the atmosphere of the court at Susa. Its accuracy
in this respect has been traced down to the most
minute details. The character of Ahasuerus is drawn
to the life; point after point in it may be matched in
the Xerxes of Herodotus. The opening sentence of
the book shows that it was written some time after the
date of the king in whose reign the story is set, because
it describes him in language only suited to a later
period—"this is Ahasuerus which reigned from India
unto Ethiopia," etc. But the writer could not have
been far removed from the Persian period. The book
bears evidence of having been written in the heart of
Persia, by a man who was intimately acquainted with
the scenery he described. There seems to be some
reason for believing in the substantial accuracy of a
narrative that is so true to life in these respects.
The simplest way out of the dilemma is to suppose
that the story of Esther stands upon a historical basis
of fact, and that it has been worked up into its present
literary form by a Jew of later days who was living in
Persia, and who was perfectly familiar with the records
and traditions of the reign of Xerxes. It is only an
unwarrantable, a priori theory that can be upset by
our acceptance of this conclusion. We have no right
to demand that the Bible shall not contain anything
but what is strictly historical. The Book of Job has
long been accepted as a sublime poem, founded on fact
perhaps, but owing its chief value to the divinely inspired
thoughts of its author. The Book of Jonah is regarded
by many cautious and devout readers as an allegory
replete with important lessons concerning a very ugly
aspect of Jewish selfishness. These two works are not
the less valuable because men are coming to understand
that their places in the library of the Hebrew Canon are
not among the strict records of history. And the Book
of Esther need not be dishonoured when some room is
allowed for the play of the creative imagination of its
author. In these days of the theological novel we are
scarcely in a position to object to what may be thought
to partake of the character of a romance, even if it is
found in the Bible. No one asks whether our Lord's
parable of the Prodigal Son was a true story of some
Galilean family. The Pilgrim's Progress has its mission,
though it is not to be verified by any authentic Annals
of Elstow. It is rather pleasing than otherwise to see
that the compilers of the Jewish Canon were not
prevented by Providence from including a little anticipation
of that work of the imagination which has
blossomed so abundantly in the highest and best
culture of our own day.
A much more serious objection is urged on religious
and moral grounds. It is indisputable that the book is
not characterised by the pure and lofty spirit that gives
its stamp to most of the other contents of the Bible.
The absence of the name of God from its pages has
been often commented on. The Jews long ago recognised
this fact, and they tried to discover the sacred
name in acrostic form at one or two places where the
initial letters of a group of words were found to spell it.
But quite apart from all such fantastic trifling, it has been
customary to argue that, though unnamed, the presence
of God is felt throughout the story in the wonderful
Providence that protects the Jews and frustrates the
designs of their arch-enemy Haman. The difficulty,
however, is wider and deeper. There is no reference
to religion, it is said, even where it is most called for;
no reference to prayer in the hour of danger, when
prayer should have been the first resource of a devout
soul; in fact no indication of devoutness of thought or
conduct. Mordecai fasts; we are not told that he prays.
The whole narrative is immersed in a secular atmosphere.
The religious character of apocryphal additions
that were inserted by later hands is a tacit witness to
a deficiency felt by pious Jews.
These charges have been met by the hypothesis that
the author found it necessary to disguise his religious
beliefs in a work that was to come under the eyes of
heathen readers. Still we cannot imagine that an
Isaiah or an Ezra would have treated his subject in the
style of our author. It must be admitted that we have
a composition on a lower plane than that of the prophetic
and priestly histories of Israel. The theory that all
parts of the Bible are inspired with an equal measure of
the Divine Spirit halts at this point. But what was
to prevent a composition analogous to secular literature
taking its place in the Hebrew Scriptures? Have we
any evidence that the obscure scribes who arranged the
Canon were infallibly inspired to include only devotional
works? It is plain that the Book of Esther was
valued on national rather than on religious grounds.
The Feast of Purim was a social and national occasion
of rejoicing, not a solemn religious ceremony like the
Passover; and this document obtains its place of
honour through its connection with the feast. The
book, then, stands to the Hebrew Psalms somewhat as
Macaulay's ballad of the Armada stands to the hymns
of Watts and the Wesleys. It is mainly patriotic rather
than religious; its purpose is to stir the soul of national
enthusiasm through the long ages of the oppression of
Israel.
It is not just, however, to assert that there are no
evidences of religious faith in the story of Esther.
Mordecai warns his cousin that if she will not exert
herself to defend her people, "then shall there relief
and deliverance arise to the Jews from another place."Esther iv. 14.
What can this be but a reserved utterance of a devout
man's faith in that Providence which has always
followed the "favoured people"? Moreover, Mordecai
seems to perceive a Divine destiny in the exaltation
of Esther when he asks, "And who knoweth whether
thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?"Ibid.
The old commentators were not wrong when they saw
the hand of Providence in the whole story. If we are
to allow some licence to the imagination of the author
in the shaping and arrangement of the narrative, we
must assign to him also a real faith in Providence, for
he describes a wonderful interlinking of events all leading
up to the deliverance of the Jews. Long before
Haman has any quarrel with Mordecai, the disgusting
degradation of a drinking bout issues in an insult offered
to a favourite queen. This shameful occurrence is the
occasion of the selection of a Jewess, whose high position
at court thus acquired enables her to save her people.
But there is a secondary plot. Mordecai's discovery of
the conspirators who would have assassinated Ahasuerus
gives him a claim on the king's generosity, and so
prepares the way, not only for his escape from the
clutches of Haman, but also for his triumph over his
enemy. And this is brought about—as we should say—"by
accident." If Xerxes had not had a sleepless
night just at the right time, if the part of his state
records selected for reading to him in his wakefulness
had not been just that which told the story of Mordecai's
great service, the occasion for the turn in the tide of
the fortune of the Jews would not have arisen. But
all was so fitted together as to lead step by step on to
the victorious conclusion. No Jew could have penned
such a story as this without having intended his co-religionists
to recognise the unseen presence of an
over-ruling Providence throughout the whole course
of events.
But the gravest charge has yet to be considered. It
is urged against the Book of Esther that the moral
tone of it is unworthy of Scripture. It is dedicated
to nothing higher than the exaltation of the Jews.
Other books of the Bible reveal God as the Supreme,
and the Jews as His servants, often His unworthy and
unfaithful servants. This book sets the Jews in the
first place; and Providence, even if tacitly recognised,
is quite subservient to their welfare. Israel does not
here appear as living for the glory of God, but all
history works for the glory of Israel. In accordance
with the spirit of the story, everything that opposes
the Jews is condemned, everything that favours them
is honoured. Worst of all, this practical deification
of Israel permits a tone of heartless cruelty. The
doctrine of separatism is monstrously exaggerated. The
Jews are seen to be surrounded by their "enemies."
Haman, the chief of them, is not only punished as he
richly deserves to be punished, but he is made the
recipient of unrestrained scorn and rage, and his sons
are impaled on their father's huge stake. The Jews defend
themselves from threatened massacre by a legalised
slaughter of their "enemies." We cannot imagine a
scene more foreign to the patience and gentleness
inculcated by our Lord. Yet we must remember
that the quarrel did not begin with the Jews; or if
we must see the origin of it in the pride of a Jew, we
must recollect that his offence was slight and only the
act of one man. As far as the narrative shows, the
Jews were engaged in their peaceable occupations when
they were threatened with extinction by a violent outburst
of the mad Judenhetze that has pursued this
unhappy people through all the centuries of history.
In the first instance, their act of vengeance was a
measure of self-defence. If they fell upon their enemies
with fierce anger, it was after an order of extermination
had driven them to bay. If they indulged in a wholesale
bloodshed, not even sparing women or children,
exactly the same doom had been hanging over their
own heads, and their own wives and children had been
included in its ferocious sentence. This fact does not
excuse the savagery of the action of the Jews; but
it amply accounts for their conduct. They were wild
with terror, and they defended their homes with the
fury of madmen. Their action did not go beyond the
prayer of the Psalmist who wrote, in trim metrical
order, concerning the hated Babylon—
"Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones
Against the rock."Psalm cxxxvii. 9.
It is more difficult to account for the responsible part
taken by Mordecai and Esther in begging permission
for this awful massacre. The last pages of the Book
of Esther reek with blood. A whole empire is converted
into shambles for human slaughter. We turn
with loathing from this gigantic horror, glad to take
refuge in the hope that the author has dipped his brush
in darker colours than the real events would warrant.
Nevertheless such a massacre as this is unhappily
not at all beyond the known facts of history on other
occasions—not in its extent; the means by which it
is here carried out are doubtless exceptional. Xerxes
himself was so heartless and so capricious that any
act of folly or wickedness could be credited of him.
After all that can be said for it, clearly this Book
of Esther cannot claim the veneration that we attach to
the more choice utterances of Old Testament literature.
It never lifts us with the inspiration of prophecy; it
never commands the reverence which we feel in studying
the historical books. Yet we must not therefore assume
that it has not its use. It illustrates an important
phase in the development of Jewish life and thought.
It also introduces us to characters and incidents that
reveal human nature in very various lights. To contemplate
such a revelation should not be without profit.
After the Bible, what book should we regard as, on
the whole, most serviceable for our enlightenment and
nurture? Since next to the knowledge of God the
knowledge of man is most important, might we not assign
this second place of honour to the works of Shakespeare
rather than to any theological treatise? And if so may
we not be grateful that something after the order of a
Shakespearian revelation of man is contained even in
one book of the Bible?
It may be best to treat a book of this character in a
different manner from the weighty historical work that
precedes it, and, instead of expounding its chapters
seriatim, to gather up its lessons in a series of brief
character studies.
CHAPTER XXXII.
AHASUERUS AND VASHTI.
Esther i.
The character of Ahasuerus illustrates the Nemesis
of absolutism, by showing how unlimited power
is crushed and dissolved beneath the weight of its own
immensity. The very vastness of his domains overwhelms
the despot. While he thinks himself free to
disport according to his will, he is in reality the slave of
his own machinery of government. He is so entirely
dependent for information on subordinates, who can
deceive him to suit their own private ends, that he
often becomes a mere puppet of the political wire-pullers.
In the fury of his passion he issues his terrible mandates,
with the confidence of a master whose slightest whim
is a law to the nations, and yet that very passion has
been cleverly worked up by some of his servants, who
are laughing in their sleeves at the simplicity of their
dupe, even while they are fawning on him with obsequious
flattery. In the story of Esther Ahasuerus
is turned about hither and thither by his courtiers,
according as one or another is clever enough to obtain
a temporary hearing. In the opening scene he is the
victim of a harem plot which deprives him of his
favourite consort. Subsequently Haman poisons his
mind with calumnies about a loyal, industrious
section of his subjects. He is only undeceived by
another movement in the harem. Even the jealously
guarded women of the royal household know more of
the actual state of affairs in the outside world than the
bewildered monarch. The king is so high above his
realm that he cannot see what is going on in it; and all
that he can learn about it passes through such a variety
of intermediary agents that it is coloured and distorted
in the process.
But this is not all. The man who is exalted to the
pedestal of a god is made dizzy by his own altitude.
Absolutism drove the Roman Emperor Caligula mad;
it punished the Xerxes of Herodotus with childishness.
The silly monarch who would decorate a tree with the
jewellery of a prince in reward for its fruitfulness, and
flog and chain the Hellespont as a punishment for its
tempestuousness, is not fit to be let out of the nursery.
Such conduct as his discovers an ineptitude that is next
door to idiocy. When the same man appears on the
pages of Scripture under the name of Ahasuerus, his
weakness is despicable. The most keen-sighted ruler
of millions is liable to be misinformed; the strongest
administrator of a gigantic empire is compelled to move
with difficulty in the midst of the elaborate organisation
of his government. But Ahasuerus is neither keen-sighted
nor strong. He is a victim of the last court
intrigue, a believer in the idlest gossip; and he is worse,
for even on the suppositions presented to him he behaves
with folly and senseless fury. His conduct to Vashti
is first insulting and then ungrateful; for fidelity to
her worthless husband would prompt her to decline to
risk herself among a crew of drunken revellers. His
consent to the diabolical proposal of his grand vizier
for a massacre, without an atom of proof that the
victims are guilty, exhibits a hopeless state of mental
feebleness. His equal readiness to transfer the mandate
of wholesale murder to persons described indefinitely
as the "enemies" of these people shows how completely
he is twisted about by the latest breeze. As the palace
plots develop we see this great king in all his pride and
majesty tossed to and fro like a shuttle-cock. And yet
he can sting. It is a dangerous game for the players,
and the object of it is to get the deadly venom of the
royal rage to light on the head of the opposite party.
We could not have a more certain proof of the vanity
of "ambition that o'erleaps itself" than this conversion
of immeasurable power into helpless weakness on the
part of the Persian sovereign.
We naturally start with this glaring exhibition of the
irony of fate in our study of Ahasuerus, because it is
the most pronounced factor in his character and career.
There are other elements of the picture, however,
which are not, like this, confined to the abnormal
experience of solitary rulers. Next to the revenge of
absolutism on its possessor, the more vulgar effects of
extravagant luxury and self-indulgence are to be seen
in the degraded Persian court life. Very likely the
writer of our Book of Esther introduces these matters
with the primary object of enhancing the significance
of his main theme by making us feel how great a
danger the Jews were in, and how magnificent a triumph
was won for them by the heroic Jewess of
the harem. But the scene that he thus brings before
us throws light on the situation all round. Xerxes'
idea of unbridled power is that it admits of unlimited
pleasure. Our author's picture of the splendid palace,
with its richly coloured awnings stretched across
from marble pillars to silver rods over the tesselated
pavement, where the most exalted guests recline in the
shade on gold and silver seats, while they feast hugely
and drink heavily day after day, shows us how the
provinces were being drained to enrich the court, and
how the royal treasury was being lavished on idle
festivity. That was bad enough, but its effects were
worse. The law was licence. "The drinking was
according to the law," and this law was that there
should be no limit to it, everybody taking just as much
wine as he pleased. Naturally such a rule ostentatiously
paraded before a dissolute company led to a scene of
downright bestial debauchery. According to Herodotus,
the Persians were addicted to drunkenness, and the
incident described in the first chapter of Esther is quite
in accordance with the Greek historian's account of the
followers of Xerxes.
The worst effect of this vice of drunkenness is its
degrading influence on the conduct and character of
men. It robs its victims of self-respect and manliness,
and sends them to wallow in the mire with swinish
obscenity. What they would not dream of stooping to
in their sober moments, they revel in with shameless
ostentation when their brains are clouded with intoxicating
drink. Husbands, who are gentle and considerate
at other times, are then transformed into brutes, who can
take pleasure in trampling on their wives. It is no excuse
to plead that the drunkard is a madman unaccountable
for his actions; he is accountable for having put
himself in his degraded condition. If he is temporarily
insane, he has poisoned his own intellect by swallowing
a noxious drug with his eyes open. He is responsible
for that action, and therefore he must be held to be
responsible for its consequences. If he had given due
consideration to his conduct, he might have foreseen
whither it was tending. The man who has been foolish
enough to launch his boat on the rapids cannot divert
its course when he is startled by the thunder of the
falls he is approaching; but he should have thought of
that before leaving the safety of the shore.
The immediate consequence of the disgusting degradation
of drunkenness, in the case of Ahasuerus, is that
the monarch grossly insults his queen. A moment's
consideration would have suggested the danger as well
as the scandal of his behaviour. But in his heedless
folly the debauchee hurls himself over the precipice,
from the height of his royal dignity down to the very
pit of ignominy, and then he is only enraged that Vashti
refuses to be dragged down with him. It is a revolting
scene, and one to show how the awful vice of
drunkenness levels all distinctions; here it outrages the
most sacred rules of Oriental etiquette. The seclusion
of the harem is to be violated for the amusement of the
dissolute king's boon companions.
In the story of Esther poor Vashti's fall is only introduced
in order to make way for her Hebrew rival.
But after ages have naturally sided with the wronged
queen. Was it true modesty that prompted her daring
refusal, or the lawful pride of womanhood? If so,
all women should honour Vashti as the vindicator
of their dues. Whatever "woman's rights" may be
maintained in the field of politics, the very existence
of the home, the basis of society itself, depends on
those more profound and inalienable rights that touch
the character of pure womanliness. The first of a
woman's rights is the right to her own person. But
this right is ignored in Oriental civilisation. The
sweet English word "home" is unknown in the court
of such a king as Ahasuerus. To think of it in this
connection is as incongruous as to imagine a daisy
springing up through the boards of a dancing saloon.
The unhappy Vashti had never known this choicest of
words; but she may have had a due conception of a
woman's true dignity, as far as the perverted ideas of
the East permitted. And yet even here a painful suspicion
obtrudes itself on our notice. Vashti had been
feasting with the women of the harem when she received
the brutal mandate from her lord. Had she too
lost her balance of judgment under the bewitching influence
of the wine-cup? Was she rendered reckless
by the excitement of her festivities? Was her refusal
the result of the factitious courage that springs from an
unwholesome excitement or an equally effective mental
stupor? Since one of the commonest results of intoxication
is a quarrelsomeness of temper, it must be admitted
that Vashti's flat refusal to obey may have some
connection with her previous festivities. In that case,
of course, something must be detracted from her glory
as the martyr of womanliness. A horrible picture is
this—a drunken king quarrelling with his drunken
queen; these two people, set in the highest places in
their vast realm, descending from the very pinnacle
of greatness to grovel in debased intemperance! It
would not be fair to the poor, wronged queen to
assert so much without any clear evidence in support
of the darker view of her conduct. Still it must be
admitted that it is difficult for any of the members of
a dissolute society to keep their garments clean. Unhappily
it is only too frequently the case that, even in
a Christian land, womanhood is degraded by becoming
the victim of intemperance. No sight on earth is more
sickening. A woman may be loaded with insults,
and yet she may keep her soul white as the soul of
St. Agnes. It is not an outrage on her dignity, offered
by the drunken king to his queen, that really marks
her degradation. To all fair judgments, that only
degrades the brute who offers it; but the white lily is
bruised and trampled in the dust when she who wears
it herself consents to fling it away.
The action of Ahasuerus on receipt of his queen's
refusal reveals another trait in his weak character.
Jealous eyes—always watching the favourite of the
harem—discover an opportunity for a gleeful triumph.
The advisers of the king are cunning enough to set the
action of Vashti in the light of a public example. If a
woman in so exalted a position is permitted to disobey
her husband with impunity, other wives will appeal
to her case and break out of bounds. It is a mean
plea, the plea of weakness on the part of the speaker,
Memucan, the last of the seven princes. Is this man
only finding an excuse for the king? or may it be
supposed that his thoughts are travelling away to a
shrew in his own home? The strange thing is that
the king is not content wreaking his vengeance on the
proud Vashti. He is persuaded to utilise the occasion
of her act of insubordination in order to issue a decree
commanding the subjection of all wives to their husbands.
The queen's conduct is treated as an instance of a
growing spirit of independence on the part of the
women of Persia, which must be crushed forthwith.
One would think that the women were slaves, and
that the princes were acting like the Romans when
they issued repressive measures from dread of a
"Servile War."
If such a law as this had ever been passed, we might
well understand the complaint of those who say it is
unjust that the function of legislation should be
monopolised by one sex. Even in the West, where
women are comparatively free and are supposed to be
treated on an equality with men, wrong is often done
because the laws which concern them more especially
are all made by men. In the East, where they are
regarded as property, like their husbands' camels and
oxen, cruel injustice is inevitable. But this injustice
cannot go unpunished. It must react on its perpetrators,
blunting their finer feelings, lowering their better
nature, robbing them of those sacred confidences of
husband and wife which never spring up on the
territory of the slave-driver.
But we have only to consider the domestic edict
of Ahasuerus to see its frothy vanity. When it was
issued it must have struck everybody who had the
faintest sense of humour as simply ridiculous. It is not
by the rough instrumentality of the law that difficult
questions of the relations between the sexes can be
adjusted. The law can see that a formal contract is not
violated with impunity. The law can protect the individual
parties to the contract from the most brutal forms
of cruelty—though even this is very difficult between
husband and wife. But the law cannot secure real
justice in the home. This must be left to the working
of principles of righteousness and to the mutual considerateness
of those who are concerned. Where these
elements are wanting, no legislation on matrimony can
restore the peace of a shattered home.
The order of Ahasuerus, however, was too indefinite
to have very serious results. The tyrannical husband
would not have waited for any such excuse as it might
afford him for exacting obedience from his oppressed
household drudge. The strong-minded woman would
mock at the king's order, and have her own way as
before who could hinder her? Certainly not her
husband. The yoke of years of meek submission was
not to be broken in a day by a royal proclamation.
But wherever the true idea of marriage was realised—and
we must have sufficient faith in human nature to
be assured that this was sometimes the case even in
the realm of Xerxes—the husband and wife who knew
themselves to be one, united by the closest ties of love
and sympathy and mutual confidence, would laugh in
their happiness and perhaps spare a thought of pity for
the poor, silly king who was advertising his domestic
troubles to the world, and thereby exhibiting his shallow
notions of wedded life—blind, absolutely blind, to the
sweet secret that was heaven to them.
We may be sure that the singular edict remained a
dead letter. But the king would be master in his own
palace. So Vashti fell. We hear no more of her
but we can guess too well what her most probable fate
must have been.On the supposition that the writer is not here recording historical
facts in the life of Amestris, the real queen of Xerxes, who we
know was not murdered.
The gates of death are never
difficult to find in an Oriental palace; there are always
jealous rivals eager to triumph over the fall of a royal
favourite. Still Ahasuerus had been really fond of the
queen who paid so dearly for her one act of independence.
Repenting of his drunken rage, the king let
his thoughts revert to his former favourite, a most
dangerous thing for those who had hastened her removal.
The easiest escape for them was to play on
his coarse nature by introducing to his notice a bevy of
girls from whom he might select a new favourite. This
was by no means a dignified proceeding for Esther,
the maiden to whom the first prize in the exhibition of
beauty was awarded by the royal fancier. But it gave
her the place of power from which to help her people
in their hour of desperate need. And here we come to
some redeeming features in the character of the king.
He is not lacking in generosity; and he owns to a
certain sense of justice. In the crowd of royal cares
and pleasures, he has forgotten how an obscure Jew
saved his life by revealing one of the many plots that
make the pleasures of a despot as hollow a mockery
as the feast of Damocles. On the chance discovery of
his negligence, Ahasuerus hastens to atone for it with
ostentatious generosity. Again, no sooner does he find
that he has been duped by Haman into an act of cruel
injustice than he tries to counteract the mischief by an
equally savage measure of retaliation. A strange way
of administering justice! Yet it must be admitted that
in this the capricious, blundering king means honestly.
The bitter irony of it all is that so awful a power of
life and death should be lodged in the hands of one who
is so totally incapacitated for a wise use of it.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
HAMAN.
Esther iii. 1-6; v. 9-14; vii. 5-10.
Haman is the Judas of Israel. Not that his conduct
or his place in history would bring him into
comparison with the traitor apostle, for he was an open
foe and a foreigner. But he is treated by popular
Judaism as the Arch-Enemy, just as Judas is treated
by popular Christianity. Like Judas, he has assigned
to him a solitary pre-eminence in wickedness, which is
almost inhuman. As in the case of Judas, there is
thought to be no call for charity or mercy in judging
Haman. He shares with Judas the curse of Cain.
Boundless execration is heaped on his head. Horror
and hatred have almost transformed him into Satan.
He is called The "Agagite," an obscure title which is
best explained as a later Jewish nickname derived from a
reference to the king of Amalek who was hewn in pieces
before the Lord. In the Septuagint he is surnamed
"The Macedonian," because when that version was
made the enemies of Israel were the representatives of
the empire of Alexander and his successors. During
the dramatic reading of the Book of Esther in a Jewish
synagogue at the Feast of Purim, the congregation may
be found taking the part of a chorus and exclaiming at
every mention of the name of Haman, "May his name
be blotted out," "Let the name of the ungodly perish,"
while boys with mallets will pound stones and bits
of wood on which the odious name is written. This
frantic extravagance would be unaccountable but for
the fact that the people whose "badge is sufferance"
has summed up under the name of the Persian official
the malignity of their enemies in all ages. Very often
this name has served to veil a dangerous reference to
some contemporary foe, or to heighten the rage felt
against an exceptionally odious person by its accumulation
of traditional hatred, just as in England on the
fifth of November the "Guy" may represent some
unpopular person of the day.
When we turn from this unamiable indulgence of
spiteful passion to the story that lies behind it, we have
enough that is odious without the conception of a sheer
monster of wickedness, a very demon. Such a being
would stand outside the range of human motives, and
we could contemplate him with unconcern and detachment
of mind, just as we contemplate the destructive
forces of nature. There is a common temptation to clear
ourselves of all semblance to the guilt of very bad
people by making it out to be inhuman. It is more
humiliating to discover that they act from quite human
motives—nay, that those very motives may be detected,
though with other bearings, even in our own conduct.
For see what were the influences that stirred in the
heart of Haman. He manifests by his behaviour the
intimate connection between vanity and cruelty.
The first trait in his character to reveal itself is
vanity, a most inordinate vanity. Haman is introduced
at the moment when he has been exalted to the highest
position under the king of Persia; he has just been
made grand vizier. The tremendous honour turns
his brain. In the consciousness of it he swells out
with vanity. As a necessary consequence he is bitterly
chagrined when a porter does not do homage
to him as to the king. His elation is equally extravagant
when he discovers that he is to be the only
subject invited to meet Ahasuerus at Esther's banquet.
When the king inquires how exceptional honour is to
be shown to some one whose name is not yet revealed,
this infatuated man jumps to the conclusion that it can
be for nobody but himself. In all his behaviour we
see that he is just possessed by an absorbing spirit of
vanity.
Then at the first check he suffers an annoyance
proportionate to the boundlessness of his previous
elation. He cannot endure the sight of indifference or
independence in the meanest subject. The slender
fault of Mordecai is magnified into a capital offence.
This again is so huge that it must be laid to the charge
of the whole race to which the offender belongs. The
rage which it excites in Haman is so violent that
it will be satisfied with nothing short of a wholesale
massacre of men, women, and children. "Behold how
great a matter a little fire kindleth"—when it is fanned
by the breath of vanity. The cruelty of the vain man
is as limitless as his vanity.
Thus the story of Haman illustrates the close juxtaposition
of these two vices, vanity and cruelty; it helps
us to see by a series of lurid pictures how fearfully
provocative the one is of the other. As we follow the
incidents, we can discover the links of connection
between the cause and its dire effects.
In the first place, it is clear that vanity is a form of
magnified egotism. The vain man thinks supremely of
himself, not so much in the way of self-interest, but
more especially for the sake of self-glorification.
When he looks out on the world, it is always through the
medium of his own vastly magnified shadow. Like
the Bröcken Ghost, this shadow becomes a haunting
presence standing out before him in huge proportions.
He has no other standard of measurement. Everything
must be judged according as it is related to himself.
The good is what gives him pleasure; evil is what is
noxious to him. This self-centred attitude, with the
distortion of vision that it induces, has a double effect,
as we may see in the case of Haman.
Egotism utilises the sufferings of others for its own
ends. No doubt cruelty is often a consequence of sheer
callousness. The man who has no perception of the
pain he is causing or no sympathy with the sufferers
will trample them under foot on the least provocation.
He feels supremely indifferent to their agonies when
they are writhing beneath him, and therefore he will
never consider it incumbent on him to adjust his
conduct with the least reference to the pain he gives.
That is an entirely irrelevant consideration. The least
inconvenience to himself outweighs the greatest distress
of other people, for the simple reason that that distress
counts as nothing in his calculation of motives. In
Haman's case, however, we do not meet with this
attitude of simple indifference. The grand vizier is
irritated, and he vents his annoyance in a vast explosion
of malignity that must take account of the
agony it produces, for in that agony its own thirst
for vengeance is to be slaked. But this only shows
the predominant selfishness to be all the greater. It
is so great that it reverses the engines that drive
society along the line of mutual helpfulness, and
thwarts and frustrates any amount of human life and
happiness for the sole purpose of gratifying its own
desires.
Then the selfishness of vanity promotes cruelty still
further by another of its effects. It destroys the sense
of proportion. Self is not only regarded as the centre
of the universe; like the sun surrounded by the
planets, it is taken to be the greatest object, and
everything else is insignificant when compared to it.
What is the slaughter of a few thousand Jews to so
great a man as Haman, grand vizier of Persia? It
is no more than the destruction of as many flies in
a forest fire that the settler has kindled to clear his
ground. The same self-magnification is visibly presented
by the Egyptian bas-reliefs, on which the
victorious Pharaohs appear as tremendous giants
driving back hordes of enemies or dragging pigmy
kings by their heads. It is but a step from this condition
to insanity, which is the apotheosis of vanity.
The chief characteristic of insanity is a diseased enlargement
of self. If he is elated the madman regards
himself as a person of supreme importance—as a
prince, as a king, even as God. If he is depressed
he thinks that he is the victim of exceptional malignity.
In that case he is beset by watchers of evil intent;
the world is conspiring against him; everything that
happens is part of a plot to do him harm. Hence
his suspiciousness; hence his homicidal proclivities.
He is not so mad in his inferences and conclusions.
These may be rational and just, on the ground of his
premisses. It is in the fixed ideas of these premisses
that the root of his insanity may be detected. His
awful fate is a warning to all who venture to indulge
in the vice of excessive egotism.
In the second place, vanity leads to cruelty through
the entire dependence of the vain person on the good
opinion of others; and this we may see clearly in the
career of Haman. Vanity is differentiated from pride
in one important particular—by its outward reference.
The proud man is satisfied with himself; but the vain
man is always looking outside himself with feverish
eagerness to secure all the honours that the world can
bestow upon him. Thus Mordecai may have been
proud in his refusal to bow before the upstart premier:
if so his pride would not need to court admiration;
it would be self-contained and self-sufficient. But
Haman was possessed by an insatiable thirst for
homage. If a single obscure individual refused him
this honour, a shadow rested on everything. He could
not enjoy the queen's banquet for the slight offered
him by the Jew at the palace gate, so that he exclaimed,
"Yet all this availeth me nothing, so long as
I see Mordecai the Jew sitting at the king's gate."Esther v. 13.
A selfish man in this condition can have no rest if
anything in the world outside him fails to minister
to his honour. While a proud man in an exalted
position scarcely deigns to notice the "dim common
people," the vain man betrays his vulgarity by caring
supremely for popular adulation. Therefore while the
haughty person can afford to pass over a slight with
contempt, the vain creature who lives on the breath of
applause is mortally offended by it and roused to avenge
the insult with corresponding rage.
Selfishness and dependence on the external, these attributes
of vanity inevitably develop into cruelty wherever
the aims of vanity are opposed. And yet the vice that
contains so much evil is rarely visited with a becoming
severity of condemnation. Usually it is smiled at as a
trivial frailty. In the case of Haman it threatened the
extermination of a nation, and the reaction from its
menace issued in a terrific slaughter of another section
of society. History records war after war that has
been fought on the ground of vanity. In military affairs
this vice wears the name of glory; but its nature is
unaltered. For what is the meaning of a war that
is waged for "la gloire" but one that is designed in
order to minister to the vanity of the people who
undertake it? A more fearful wickedness has never
blackened the pages of history. The very frivolity of
the occasion heightens the guilt of those who plunge
nations into misery on such a paltry pretext. It is
vanity that urges a savage warrior to collect skulls to
adorn the walls of his hut with the ghastly trophies;
it is vanity that impels a restless conqueror to march to
his own triumph through a sea of blood; it is vanity
that rouses a nation to fling itself on its neighbour in
order to exalt its fame by a great victory. Ambition
at its best is fired by the pride of power; but in its
meaner forms ambition is nothing but an uprising of
vanity clamouring for wider recognition. The famous
invasion of Greece by Xerxes was evidently little better
than a huge exhibition of regal vanity. The childish
fatuity of the king could seek for no exalted ends.
His assemblage of swarms of men of all races in an
ill-disciplined army too big for practical warfare showed
that the thirst for display occupied the principal place
in his mind, to the neglect of the more sober aims
of a really great conqueror. And if the vanity that
lives on the world's admiration is so fruitful in evil
when it is allowed to deploy on a large scale, its
essential character will not be improved by the
limitation of its scope in humbler spheres of life. It
is always mean and cruel.
Two other features in the character of Haman may
be noticed. First, he shows energy and determination.
He bribes the king to obtain the royal consent to his
deadly design, bribes with an enormous present equal
to the revenue of a kingdom, though Ahasuerus permits
him to recoup himself by seizing the property of the
proscribed nation. Then the murderous mandate goes
forth: it is translated into every language of the subject
peoples; it is carried to the remotest parts of the kingdom
by the posts, the excellent organisation of which,
under the Persian government has become famous.
Thus far everything is on a large scale, betokening a
mind of resource and daring. But now turn to the
sequel. "And the king and Haman sat down to
drink."Esther iii. 15.
It is a horrible picture—the king of Persia
and his grand vizier at this crisis deliberately abandoning
themselves to their national vice. The decree
is out; it cannot be recalled—let it go and do its fell
work. As for its authors, they are drowning all thought
of its effect on public opinion in the wine-cup; they
are boozing together in a disgusting companionship of
debauchery on the eve of a scene of wholesale bloodshed.
This is what the glory of the Great King has
come to. This is the anti-climax of his minister's
vanity at the moment of supreme success. After such
an exhibition we need not be surprised at the abject
humiliation, the terror of cowardice, the frantic effort
to extort pity from a woman of the very race whose
extermination he had plotted, manifested by Haman in
the hour of his exposure at Esther's banquet. Beneath
all his braggart energy he is a weak man. In most
cases self-indulgent, vain, and cruel people are essentially
weak at heart.
Looking at the story of Haman from another point
of view, we see how well it illustrates the confounding
of evil devices and the punishment of their author in
the drama of history. It is one of the most striking
instances of what is called "poetic justice," the justice
depicted by the poets, but not always seen in prosaic
lives, the justice that is itself a poem because it makes a
harmony of events. Haman is the typical example of
the schemer who "falls into his own pit," of the villain
who is "hoisted on his own petard." Three times the
same process occurs, to impress its lesson with threefold
emphasis. We have it first in the most moderate form
when Haman is forced to assist in bestowing on
Mordecai the honours he has been coveting for himself,
by leading the horse of the hated Jew in his triumphant
procession through the city. The same lesson is impressed
with tragic force when the grand vizier is condemned
to be impaled on the stake erected by him in
readiness for the man whom he has been compelled to
honour. Lastly, the design of murdering the whole
race to which Mordecai belongs is frustrated by the
slaughter of those who sympathise with Haman's
attitude towards Israel—the "Hamanites," as they
have been called. We rarely meet with such a complete
reversal of fate, such a climax of vengeance. In
considering the course of events here set forth we must
distinguish between the old Jewish view of it and the
significance of the process itself.
The Jews were taught to look on all this with fierce,
vindictive glee, and to see in it the prophecy of the like
fate that was treasured up for their enemies in later
times. This rage of the oppressed against their
oppressors, this almost fiendish delight in the complete
overthrow of the enemies of Israel, this total extinction
of any sentiment of pity even for the helpless and
innocent sufferers who are to share the fate of their
guilty relatives—in a word, this utterly un-Christlike
spirit of revenge, must be odious in our eyes. We
cannot understand how good men could stand by with
folded arms while they saw women and children tossed
into the seething cauldron of vengeance; still less how
they could themselves perpetrate the dreadful deed.
But then we cannot understand that tragedy of history,
the oppression of the Jews, and its deteriorating influence
on its victims, nor the hard, cruel spirit of
blank indifference to the sufferings of others that
prevailed almost everywhere before Christ came to
teach the world pity.
When we turn to the events themselves, we must
take another view of the situation. Here was a rough
and sweeping, but still a complete and striking punishment
of cruel wrong. The Jews expected this too
frequently on earth. We have learnt that it is more
often reserved for another world and a future state of
existence. Yet sometimes we are startled to see how
apt it can be even in this present life. The cruel man
breeds foes by his very cruelty; he rouses his own
executioners by the rage that he provokes in them. It
is the same with respect to many other forms of evil.
Thus vanity is punished by the humiliation it receives
from those people who are irritated at its pretensions;
it is the last failing that the world will readily forgive,
partly perhaps because it offends the similar failing
in other people. Then we see meanness chastised by
the odium it excites, lying by the distrust it provokes,
cowardice by the attacks it invites, coldness of heart
by a corresponding indifference on the side of other
people. The result is not always so neatly effected
nor so visibly demonstrated as in the case of Haman;
but the tendency is always present, because there is
a Power that makes for righteousness presiding over
society and inherent in the very constitution of
nature.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
QUEEN ESTHER.
Esther iv. 10-v.; vii. 1-4; ix. 12, 13.
The young Jewess who wins the admiration of the
Persian king above all the chosen maidens of his
realm, and who then delivers her people in the crisis
of supreme danger at the risk of her own life, is the
central figure in the story of the origin of Purim. It
was a just perception of the situation that led to the
choice of her name as the title of the book that records
her famous achievements. Esther first appears as an
obscure orphan who has been brought up in the humble
home of her cousin Mordecai. After her guardian has
secured her admission to the royal harem—a doubtful
honour! we might think, but a very real honour in
the eyes of an ancient Oriental—she receives a year's
training with the use of the fragrant unguents that are
esteemed so highly in a voluptuous Eastern court. We
should not expect to see anything better than the
charms of physical beauty after such a process of
development, charms not of the highest type—languid,
luscious, sensuous. The new name bestowed on this
finished product of the chief art cultivated in the
palace of Ahasuerus points to nothing higher, for
"Esther" (Istar) is the name of a Babylonian goddess
equivalent to the Greek "Aphrodite." And yet our
Esther is a heroine—capable, energetic, brave, and
patriotic. The splendour of her career is seen in this
very fact, that she does not succumb to the luxury of
her surroundings. The royal harem among the lily-beds
of Shushan is like a palace in the land of the lotus-eaters,
"where it is always afternoon"; and its inmates, in
their dreamy indolence, are tempted to forget all obligations
and interests beyond the obligation to please the
king and their own interest in securing every comfort
wealth can lavish on them. We do not look for a
Boadicea in such a hot-house of narcotics. And when
we find there a strong, unselfish woman such as Esther,
conquering almost insuperable temptations to a life of
ease, and choosing a course of terrible danger to herself
for the sake of her oppressed people, we can echo the
admiration of the Jews for their national heroine.
It is a woman, then, who plays the leading part in
this drama of Jewish history. From Eve to Mary,
women have repeatedly appeared in the most prominent
places on the pages of Scripture. The history of Israel
finds some of its most powerful situations in the exploits
of Deborah, Jael, and Judith. On the side of evil,
Delilah, Athaliah, and Jezebel are not less conspicuous.
There was a freedom enjoyed by the women of Israel
that was not allowed in the more elaborate civilisation
of the great empires of the East, and this developed an
independent spirit and a vigour not usually seen in
Oriental women. In the case of Esther these good
qualities were able to survive the external restraints
and the internal relaxing atmosphere of her court life.
The scene of her story is laid in the harem. The plots
and intrigues of the harem furnish its principal incidents.
Yet if Esther had been a shepherdess from the
mountains of Judah, she could not have proved herself
more energetic. But her court life had taught her skill
in diplomacy, for she had to pick her way among the
greatest dangers like a person walking among concealed
knives.
The beauty of Esther's character is this, that she
is not spoiled by her great elevation. To be the one
favourite out of all the select maidens of the kingdom,
and to know that she owes her privileged position solely
to the king's fancy for her personal charms, might
have spoilt the grace of a simple Jewess. Haman,
we saw, was ruined by his honours becoming too
great for his self-control. But in Esther we do not
light on a trace of the silly vanity that became the
most marked characteristic of the grand vizier. It
speaks well for Mordecai's sound training of the orphan
girl that his ward proved to be of stable character
where a weaker person would have been dizzy with
selfish elation.
The unchanged simplicity of Esther's character is
first apparent in her submissive obedience to her
guardian even after her high position has been attained.
Though she is treated as his Queen by the Great King,
she does not forget the kind porter who has brought
her up from childhood. In the old days she had been
accustomed to obey this grave Jew, and she has no
idea of throwing off the yoke now that he has no longer
any recognised power over her. The habit of obedience
persists in her after the necessity for it has been removed.
This would not have been so remarkable if
Esther had been a weak-minded woman, readily subdued
and kept in subjection by a masterful will. But her
energy and courage at a momentous crisis entirely forbid
any such estimate of her character. It must have
been genuine humility and unselfishness that prevented
her from rebelling against the old home authority when
a heavy injunction was laid upon her. She undertakes
the dangerous part of the champion of a threatened
race solely at the instance of Mordecai. He urges the
duty upon her, and she accepts it meekly. She is no
rough Amazon. With all her greatness and power, she
is still a simple, unassuming woman.
But when Esther has assented to the demands of
Mordecai, she appears in her people's cause with the
spirit of true patriotism. She scorns to forget her
humble origin in all the splendour of her later advancement.
She will own her despised and hated people
before the king; she will plead the cause of the
oppressed, though at the risk of her life. She is aware
of the danger of her undertaking; but she says, "If I
perish, I perish." The habit of obedience could not
have been strong enough to carry her through the
terrible ordeal if Mordecai's hard requirement had
not been seconded by the voice of her own conscience.
She knows that it is right that she should undertake
this difficult and dangerous work. How naturally
might she have shrunk back with regret for the seclusion
and obscurity of the old days when her safety lay in
her insignificance? But she saw that her new privileges
involved new responsibilities. A royal harem is the
last place in which we should look for the recognition
of this truth. Esther is to be honoured because even
in that palace of idle luxury she could acknowledge the
stern obligation that so many in her position would
never have glanced at. It is always difficult to perceive
and act on the responsibility that certainly accompanies
favour and power. This difficulty is one reason why
"it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a
needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom
of God." For while unusual prosperity brings unusual
responsibility, simply because it affords unusual opportunities
for doing good, it tends to cultivate pride and
selfishness, and the miserable worldly spirit that is fatal
to all high endeavour and all real sacrifice. Our Lord's
great principle, "Unto whom much is given, of him
shall much be required," is clear as a mathematical
axiom when we look at it in the abstract; but nothing
is harder than for people to apply it to their own cases.
If it were freely admitted, the ambition that grasps at
the first places would be shamed into silence. If it
were generally acted on, the wide social cleft between
the fortunate and the miserable would be speedily
bridged over. The total ignoring of this tremendous
principle by the great majority of those who enjoy the
privileged positions in society is undoubtedly one of
the chief causes of the ominous unrest that is growing
more and more disturbing in the less favoured ranks of
life. If this supercilious contempt for an imperative
duty continues, what can be the end but an awful retribution?
Was it not the wilful blindness of the dancers
in the Tuileries to the misery of the serfs on the fields
that caused revolutionary France to run red with
blood?
Esther was wise in taking the suggestion of her
cousin that she had been raised up for the very purpose
of saving her people. Here was a faith, reserved and
reticent, but real and powerful. It was no idle chance
that had tossed her on the crest of the wave while so
many of her sisters were weltering in the dark floods
beneath. A clear, high purpose was leading her on to
a strange and mighty destiny, and now the destiny was
appearing, sublime and terrible, like some awful mountain
peak that must be climbed unless the soul that has
come thus far will turn traitor and fall back into failure
and ignominy. When Esther saw this, she acted on
it with the promptitude of the founder of her nation,
who esteemed "the reproach of Christ greater riches
than the treasures of Egypt"; but with this difference,
that, while Moses renounced his high rank in Pharaoh's
court in order to identify himself with his people, the
Queen of Ahasuerus retained her perilous position and
turned it to good account in her saving mission. Thus
there are two ways in which an exalted person may
serve others. He may come down from his high estate
like Moses, like Christ who was rich and for our sakes
became poor; or he may take advantage of his privileged
position to use it for the good of his brethren, regarding
it as a trust to be held for those whom he can benefit,
like Joseph, who was able in this way to save his father
and his brothers from famine, and like Esther in the
present case. Circumstances will guide the willing to a
decision as to which of these courses should be chosen.
We must not turn from this subject without remembering
that Mordecai plied Esther with other considerations
besides the thought of her mysterious destiny.
He warned her that she should not escape if she disowned
her people. He expressed his confidence that
if she shrank from her high mission deliverance would
"come from another place," to her eternal shame.
Duty is difficult, and there is often a call for the comparatively
lower, because more selfish, considerations
that urge to it. The reluctant horse requires the spur.
And yet the noble courage of Esther could not have come
chiefly from fear or any other selfish motive. It must
have been a sense of her high duty and wonderful
destiny that inspired her. There is no inspiration like
that of the belief that we are called to a great mission.
This is the secret of the fanatical heroism of the Madhist
dervishes. In a more holy warfare it makes heroes of
the weakest.
Having once accepted her dreadful task, Esther proceeded
to carry it out with courage. It was a daring
act for her to enter the presence of the king unsummoned.
Who could tell but that the fickle monarch
might take offence at the presumption of his new
favourite, as he had done in the case of her predecessor?
Her lonely position might have made the
strongest of women quail as she stepped forth from her
seclusion and ventured to approach her lord. Her
motive might be shamefully misconstrued by the low-minded
monarch. Would the king hold out the golden
sceptre to her? The chances of life and death hung
on the answer to that question. Nehemiah, though a
courageous man and a favourite of his royal master, was
filled with apprehension at the prospect of a far less
dangerous interview with a much more reasonable
ruler than the half-mad Xerxes. These Oriental
autocrats were shrouded in the terror of divinities.
Their absolute power left the lives of all who approached
them at the mercy of their caprice. Ahasuerus
had just sanctioned a senseless, bloodthirsty
decree. Very possibly he had murdered Vashti, and
that on the offence of a moment. Esther was in
favour, but she belonged to the doomed people, and
she was committing an illegal action deliberately in the
face of the king. She was Fatima risking the wrath of
Bluebeard. We know how Nehemiah would have acted
at this trying moment. He would have strengthened
his heart with one of those sudden ejaculations of
prayer that were always ready to spring to his lips
on any emergency. It is not in accordance with the
secular tone of the story of Esther's great undertaking
that any hint of such an action on her part should
have been given. Therefore we cannot say that she
was a woman of no religion, that she was prayerless,
that she launched on this great enterprise entirely
relying on her own strength. We must distinguish
between reserve and coldness in regard to religion.
The fire burns while the heart muses, even though the
lips are still. At all events, if it is the intention of the
writer to teach that Esther was mysteriously raised up
for the purpose of saving her people, it is a natural
inference to conclude that she was supported in the
execution of it by unseen and silent aid. Her name
does not appear in the honour roll of Hebrews xi.
We cannot assert that she acted in the strength of
faith. And yet there is more evidence of faith, even
though it is not professed, in conduct that is true and
loyal, brave and unselfish, than we can find in the
loudest profession of a creed without the confirmation
of corresponding conduct. "I will show my faith by
my works," says St. James, and he may show it without
once naming it.
It is to be noted, further, that Esther was a woman of
resources. She did not trust to her courage alone to
secure her end. It was not enough that she owned her
people, and was willing to plead their cause. She had
the definite purpose of saving them to effect. She was
not content to be a martyr to patriotism; a sensible,
practical woman, she did her utmost to be successful
in effecting the deliverance of the threatened Jews.
With this end in view, it was necessary for her to
proceed warily. Her first step was gained when she
had secured an audience with the king. We may
surmise that her beautiful countenance was lit up
with a new, rare radiance when all self-seeking was
banished from her mind and an intense, noble aim fired
her soul; and thus, it may be, her very loftiness of
purpose helped to secure its success. Beauty is a gift,
a talent, to be used for good, like any other Divine
endowment; the highest beauty is the splendour of
soul that sometimes irradiates the most commonplace
countenance, so that, like Stephen's, it shines as the
face of an angel. Instead of degrading her beauty with
foolish vanity, Esther consecrated it to a noble service,
and thereby it was glorified. This one talent was not
lodged with her useless.
The first point was gained in securing the favour of
Ahasuerus. But all was not yet won. It would have
been most unwise for Esther to have burst out with
her daring plea for the condemned people in the moment
of the king's surprised welcome. But she was patient
and skilful in managing her delicate business. She
knew the king's weakness for good living, and she
played upon it for her great purpose. Even when she
had got him to a first banquet, she did not venture to
bring out her request. Perhaps her courage failed her
at the last moment. Perhaps, like a keen, observant
woman, she perceived that she had not yet wheedled
the king round to the condition in which it would be
safe to approach the dangerous topic. So she postponed
her attempt to another day and a second banquet.
Then she seized her opportunity. With great tact, she
began by pleading for her own life. Her piteous
entreaty amazed the dense-minded monarch. At the
same time the anger of his pride was roused. Who
would dare to touch his favourite queen? It was a
well-chosen moment to bring such a notion into the
mind of a king who was changeable as a child. We
may be sure that Esther had been doing her very best
to please him throughout the two banquets. Then she
had Haman on the spot. He, too, prime minister of
Persia as he was, had to find that for once in his life
he had been outwitted by a woman. Esther meant to
strike while the iron was hot. So the arch-enemy of
her people was there, that the king might carry out the
orders to which she was skilfully leading him on without
the delay which would give the party of Haman an
opportunity to turn him the other way. Haman saw
it all in a moment. He confessed that the queen was
mistress of the situation by appealing to her for mercy,
in the frenzy of his terror even so far forgetting his
place as to fling himself on her couch. That only
aggravated the rage of the jealous king. Haman's
fate was sealed on the spot. Esther was completely
triumphant.
After this it is painful to see how the woman who
had saved her people at the risk of her own life pushed
her advantage to the extremity of a bloodthirsty vengeance.
It is all very well to say that, as the laws of
the Medes and Persians could not be altered, there was
no alternative but a defensive slaughter. We may try to
shelter Esther under the customs of the times; we may
call to mind the fact that she was acting on the advice
of Mordecai, whom she had been taught to obey from
childhood, so that his was by far the greater weight of
responsibility. Still, as we gaze on the portrait of the
strong, brave, unselfish Jewess, we must confess that
beneath all the beauty and nobility of its expression
certain hard lines betray the fact that Esther is not a
Madonna, that the heroine of the Jews does not reach
the Christian ideal of womanhood.
CHAPTER XXXV.
MORDECAI.
Esther ii. 5, 6; iv. 1, 2; vi. 10, 11; ix. 1-4.
The hectic enthusiast who inspires Daniel Deronda
with his passionate ideas is evidently a reflection
in modern literature of the Mordecai of Scripture. It
must be admitted that the reflection approaches a
caricature. The dreaminess and morbid excitability of
George Eliot's consumptive hero have no counterpart
in the wise, strong Mentor of Queen Esther; and the
English writer's agnosticism has led her to exclude all
the Divine elements of the Jewish faith, so that on her
pages the sole object of Israelite devotion is the race
of Israel. But the very extravagance of the portraiture
keenly accentuates what is, after all, the most remarkable
trait in the original Mordecai. We are not in a
position to deny that this man had a living faith in
the God of his fathers; we are simply ignorant as to
what his attitude towards religion was, because the
author of the Book of Esther draws a veil over the
religious relations of all his characters. Still the one
thing prominent and pronounced in Mordecai is
patriotism, devotion to Israel, the expenditure of
thought and effort on the protection of his threatened
people.
The first mention of the name of Mordecai introduces
a hint of his national connections. We read, "There
was a certain Jew in Shushan the palace, whose name
was Mordecai, the son of Jair, the son of Shimei, the son
of Kish, a Benjamite; who had been carried away from
Jerusalem with the captives which had been carried
away with Jeconiah king of Judah, whom Nebuchadnezzar
the king of Babylon had carried away."Esther ii. 5, 6.
Curious freaks of exegesis have been displayed in
dealing with this passage. It has been thought that
the Kish mentioned in it is no other than the father
of Saul, in which case the ages of the ancestors of Mordecai
must rival those of the antediluvians; and it has
been suggested that Mordecai is here represented as one
of the original captives from Jerusalem in the reign of
Jeconiah, so that at the time of Xerxes he must have
been a marvellously old man, tottering on the brink of
the grave. On these grounds the genealogical note has
been treated as a fanciful fiction invented to magnify the
importance of Mordecai. But there is no necessity to
take up any such position. It would be strange to derive
Mordecai from the far-off Benjamite farmer Kish, who
shines only in the reflected glory of his son, whereas
we have no mention of Saul himself. There is no
reason to say that another Kish may not have been
found among the captives. Then it is quite possible
to dispose of the second difficulty by connecting the
relative clause at the beginning of verse 6—"who had
been carried away"—with the nearest antecedent in the
previous sentence—viz., "Kish the Benjamite." If we
remove the semi-colon from the end of verse 5, the
clauses will run on quite smoothly and there will be
no reason to go back to the name of Mordecai for the
antecedent of the relative; we can read the words thus—"Kish
the Benjamite who had been carried away,"
etc. In this way all difficulty vanishes. But the
passage still retains a special significance. Mordecai
was a true Jew, of the once royal tribe of Benjamin,
a descendant of one of the captive contemporaries of
Jeconiah, and therefore most likely a scion of a princely
house. The preservation of his ancestral record gives
us a hint of the sort of mental pabulum on which the
man had been nurtured. Living in the palace, apparently
as a porter, and possibly as a eunuch of the
harem, Mordecai would have been tempted to forget
his people. Nevertheless it is plain that he had
cherished traditions of the sad past, and trained his
soul to cling to the story of his fathers' sufferings in
spite of all the distractions and dissipations of a Persian
court life. Though in a humbler sphere, he thus
resembled Artaxerxes' cup-bearer, the great patriot
Nehemiah.
The peculiarity of Mordecai's part in the story is this,
that he is the moving spirit of all that is done for the
deliverance of Israel at a time of desperate peril
without being at first a prominent character. Thus
he first appears as the guardian of his young cousin,
whom he has cherished and trained, and whom he now
introduces to the royal harem where she will play her
more conspicuous part. Throughout the whole course
of events Mordecai's voice is repeatedly heard, but
usually as that of Esther's prompter. He haunts the
precincts of the harem, if by chance he may catch
a glimpse of his foster child. He is a lonely man now,
for he has parted with the light of his home. He has
done this voluntarily, unselfishly—first, to advance the
lovely creature who has been committed to his charge,
and secondly, as it turns out, for the saving of his people.
Even now his chief thought is not for the cheering of
his own solitude. His constant aim is to guide his
young cousin in the difficult path of her new career.
Subsequently he receives the highest honours the king
can bestow; but he never seeks them, and he would be
quite content to remain in the background to the end,
if only his eager desire for the good of his people
could be accomplished by the queen who has learnt to
lean upon his counsel from her childhood. Such self-effacement
is most rare and beautiful. A subtle temptation
to self-regarding ambition besets the path of every
man who attempts some great public work for the good
of others in a way that necessarily brings him under
observation. Even though he believes himself to be
inspired by the purest patriotism, it is impossible for
him not to perceive that he is exposing himself to
admiration by the very disinterestedness of his conduct.
The rare thing is to see the same earnestness on the
part of a person in an obscure place, willing that the
whole of his energy should be devoted to the training
and guiding of another, who alone is to become the
visible agent of some great work.
The one action in which Mordecai momentarily takes
the first place throws light on another side of his
character. There is a secondary plot in the story.
Mordecai saves the king's life by discovering to him
a conspiracy. The value of this service is strikingly
illustrated by the historical fact that, at a later time, just
another such conspiracy issued in the assassination of
Xerxes. In the distractions of his foreign expeditions
and his abandonment to self-indulgence at home, the
king forgets the whole affair, and Mordecai goes on
his quiet way as before, never dreaming of the honour
with which it is to be rewarded. Now this incident
seems to be introduced to show how the intricate
wheels of Providence all work on for the ultimate
deliverance of Israel. The accidental discovery of
Mordecai's unrequited service when the king is beguiling
the long hours of a sleepless night by listening to the
chronicles of his reign leads to the recognition of
Mordecai and the first humiliation of Haman, and
prepares the king for further measures. But the
incident reflects a side light on Mordecai in another
direction. The humble porter is loyal to the great
despot. He is a passionately patriotic Jew; but his
patriotism does not make a rebel of him, nor does it
permit him to stand aside silently and see a villainous
intrigue go on unmolested, even though it is aimed at
the monarch who is holding his people in subjection.
Mordecai is the humble friend of the great Persian
king in the moment of danger. This is the more
remarkable when we compare it with his ruthless
thirst for vengeance against the known enemies of
Israel. It shows that he does not treat Ahasuerus as
an enemy of his people. No doubt the writer of this
narrative wished it to be seen that the most patriotic
Jew could be perfectly loyal to a foreign government.
The shining examples of Joseph and Daniel have set
the same idea before the world for the vindication of a
grossly maligned people, who, like the Christians in the
days of Tacitus, have been most unjustly hated as the
enemies of the human race. The capacity to adapt
itself loyally to the service of foreign governments,
without abandoning one iota of its religion or its
patriotism, is a unique trait in the genius of this
wonderful race. The Zealot is not the typical Jew-patriot.
He is a secretion of diseased and decayed
patriotism. True patriotism is large enough and patient
enough to recognise the duties that lie outside its immediate
aims. Its fine perfection is attained when it
can be flexible without becoming servile.
We see that in Mordecai the flexibility of Jewish
patriotism was consistent with a proud scorn of the
least approach to servility. He would not kiss the
dust at the approach of Haman, grand vizier though
the man was. It may be that he regarded this act of
homage as idolatrous—for it would seem that Persian
monarchs were not unwilling to accept the adulation of
Divine honours; and the vain minister was aping the
airs of his royal master. But, perhaps, like those
Greeks who would not humble their pride by prostrating
themselves at the bidding of an Oriental
barbarian, Mordecai held himself up from a sense of
self-respect. In either case it must be evident that
he showed a daringly independent spirit. He could not
but know that such an affront as he ventured to offer
to Haman would annoy the great man. But he had
not calculated on the unfathomable depths of Haman's
vanity. Nobody who credits his fellows with rational
motives would dream that so simple an offence as this
of Mordecai's could provoke so vast an act of vengeance
as the massacre of a nation. When he saw the
outrageous consequences of his mild act of independence,
Mordecai must have felt it doubly incumbent
upon him to strain every nerve to save his people.
Their danger was indirectly due to his conduct. Still
he could never have foreseen such a result, and therefore
he should not be held responsible for it. The
tremendous disproportion between motive and action in
the behaviour of Haman is like one of those fantastic
freaks that abound in the impossible world of "The
Arabian Nights," but for the occurrence of which we
make no provision in real life, simply because we do
not act on the assumption that the universe is nothing
better than a huge lunatic asylum.
The escape from this altogether unexpected danger
is due to two courses of events. One of them—in accordance
with the reserved style of the narrative—appears
to be quite accidental. Mordecai got the
reward he never sought in what seems to be the most
casual way. He had no hand in obtaining for himself
an honour which looks to us quaintly childish. For a
few brief hours he was paraded through the streets of
the royal city as the man whom the king delighted to
honour, with no less a person than the grand vizier
to serve as his groom. It was Haman's silly vanity
that had invented this frivolous proceeding. We can
hardly suppose that Mordecai cared much for it. After
the procession had completed its round, in true Oriental
fashion Mordecai put off his gorgeous robes, like a poor
actor returning from the stage to his garret, and settled
down to his lowly office exactly as if nothing had
happened. This must seem to us a foolish business,
unless we can look at it through the magnifying glass
of an Oriental imagination, and even then there is
nothing very fascinating in it. Still it had important
consequences. For, in the first place, it prepared the
way for a further recognition of Mordecai in the future.
He was now a marked personage. Ahasuerus knew
him, and was gratefully disposed towards him. The
people understood that the king delighted to honour
him. His couch would not be the softer nor his bread
the sweeter; but all sorts of future possibilities lay
open before him. To many men the possibilities of
life are more precious than the actualities. We cannot
say, however, that they meant much to Mordecai, for
he was not ambitious, and he had no reason to think
that the kings conscience was not perfectly satisfied
with the cheap settlement of his debt of gratitude.
Still the possibilities existed, and before the end of
the tale they had blossomed out to very brilliant
results.
But another consequence of the pageant was that the
heart of Haman was turned to gall. We see him livid
with jealousy, inconsolable until his wife—who evidently
knows him well—proposes to satisfy his spite by
another piece of fanciful extravagance. Mordecai shall
be impaled on a mighty stake, so high that all the
world shall see the ghastly spectacle. This may give
some comfort to the wounded vanity of the grand
vizier. But consolation to Haman will be death and
torment to Mordecai.
Now we come to the second course of events that
issued in the deliverance and triumph of Israel, and
therewith in the escape and exaltation of Mordecai.
Here the watchful porter is at the spring of all that
happens. His fasting, and the earnest counsels he
lays upon Esther, bear witness to the intensity of his
nature. Again the characteristic reserve of the narrative
obscures all religious considerations. But, as we
have seen already, Mordecai is persuaded that deliverance
will come to Israel from some quarter, and he
suggests that Esther has been raised to her high
position for the purpose of saving her people. We
cannot but feel that these hints veil a very solid faith
in the providence of God with regard to the Jews. On
the surface of them they show faith in the destiny
of Israel. Mordecai not only loves his nation; he
believes in it. He is sure it has a future. It has
survived the most awful disasters in the past. It
seems to possess a charmed life. It must emerge
safely from the present crisis. But Mordecai is not
a fatalist whose creed paralyses his energies. He is
most distressed and anxious at the prospect of the
great danger that threatens his people. He is most
persistent in pressing for the execution of measures of
deliverance. Still in all this he is buoyed up by a
strange faith in his nation's destiny. This is the
faith that the English novelist has transferred to her
modern Mordecai. It cannot be gainsayed that there
is much in the marvellous history of the unique
people, whose vitality and energy astonish us even
to-day, to justify the sanguine expectation of prophetic
souls that Israel has yet a great destiny to fulfil in
future ages.
The ugly side of Jewish patriotism is also apparent
in Mordecai, and it must not be ignored. The indiscriminate
massacre of the "enemies" of the Jews is a
savage act of retaliation that far exceeds the necessity
of self-defence, and Mordecai must bear the chief blame
of this crime. But then the considerations in extenuation
of its guilt which have already come under our
notice may be applied to him.Page 358.
The danger was supreme.
The Jews were in a minority. The king was cruel,
fickle, senseless. It was a desperate case. We cannot
be surprised that the remedy was desperate also. There
was no moderation on either side, but then "sweet
reasonableness" is the last thing to be looked for in
any of the characters of the Book of Esther. Here
everything is extravagant. The course of events is too
grotesque to be gravely weighed in the scales that are
used in the judgment of average men under average
circumstances.
The Book of Esther closes with an account of the
establishment of the Feast of Purim and the exaltation
of Mordecai to the vacant place of Haman. The Israelite
porter becomes grand vizier of Persia! This is the
crowning proof of the triumph of the Jews consequent
on their deliverance. The whole process of events
that issues so gloriously is commemorated in the annual
Feast of Purim. It is true that doubts have been thrown
on the historical connection between that festival and
the story of Esther. It has been said that the word
"Purim" may represent the portions assigned by lot,
but not the lottery itself; that so trivial an accident as
the method followed by Haman in selecting a day for
his massacre of the Jews could not give its name to the
celebration of their escape from the threatened danger;
that the feast was probably more ancient, and was really
the festival of the new moon for the month in which it
occurs. With regard to all of these and any other objections,
there is one remark that may be made here. They
are solely of archæological interest. The character
and meaning of the feast as it is known to have been
celebrated in historical times is not touched by them,
because it is beyond doubt that throughout the ages
Purim has been inspired with passionate and almost
dramatic reminiscences of the story of Esther. Thus
for all the celebrations of the feast that come within
our ken this is its sole significance.
The worthiness of the festival will vary according to
the ideas and feelings that are encouraged in connection
with it. When it has been used as an opportunity
for cultivating pride of race, hatred, contempt,
and gleeful vengeance over humiliated foes, its effect
must have been injurious and degrading. When, however,
it has been celebrated in the midst of grievous
oppressions, though it has embittered the spirit of
animosity towards the oppressor—the Christian Haman
in most cases—it has been of real service in cheering
a cruelly afflicted people. Even when it has been
carried through with no seriousness of intention,
merely as a holiday devoted to music and dancing
and games and all sorts of merry-making, its social
effect in bringing a gleam of light into lives that were
as a rule dismally sordid may have been decidedly
healthy.
But deeper thoughts must be stirred in devout hearts
when brooding over the profound significance of the
national festival. It celebrates a famous deliverance of
the Jews from a fearful danger. Now deliverance is the
keynote of Jewish history. This note was sounded as
with a trumpet blast at the very birth of the nation,
when, emerging from Egypt no better than a body of
fugitive slaves, Israel was led through the Red Sea and
Pharaoh's hosts with their horses and chariots were
overwhelmed in the flood. The echo of the triumphant
burst of praise that swelled out from the exodus
pealed down the ages in the noblest songs of Hebrew
Psalmists. Successive deliverances added volume to
this richest note of Jewish poetry. In all who looked
up to God as the Redeemer of Israel the music was
inspired by profound thankfulness, by true religious
adoration. And yet Purim never became the Eucharist
of Israel. It never approached the solemn grandeur of
Passover, that prince of festivals, in which the great
primitive deliverance of Israel was celebrated with all
the pomp and awe of its Divine associations. It was
always in the main a secular festival, relegated to the
lower plane of social and domestic entertainments, like
an English bank-holiday. Still even on its own lines it
could serve a serious purpose. When Israel is practically
idolised by Israelites, when the glory of the nation
is accepted as the highest ideal to work up to, the true
religion of Israel is missed, because that is nothing less
than the worship of God as He is revealed in Hebrew
history. Nevertheless, in their right place, the privileges
of the nation and its destinies may be made
the grounds of very exalted aspirations. The nation
is larger than the individual, larger than the family.
An enthusiastic national spirit must exert an expansive
influence on the narrow, cramped lives of the men and
women whom it delivers from selfish, domestic, and
parochial limitations. It was a liberal education for
Jews to be taught to love their race, its history and its
future. If—as seems probable—our Lord honoured
the Feast of Purim by taking part in it,John v. 1.
He must
have credited the national life of His people with a
worthy mission. Himself the purest and best fruit
of the stock of Israel, on the human side of His
being, He realised in His own great mission of redemption
the end for which God had repeatedly redeemed
Israel. Thus He showed that God had saved His
people, not simply for their own selfish satisfaction,
but that through Christ they might carry salvation to
the world.
Purged from its base associations of blood and
cruelty, Purim may symbolise to us the triumph of
the Church of Christ over her fiercest foes. The spirit
of this triumph must be the very opposite of the
spirit of wild vengeance exhibited by Mordecai and his
people in their brief season of unwonted elation. The
Israel of God can never conquer her enemies by force.
The victory of the Church must be the victory of
brotherly love, because brotherly love is the note of
the true Church. But this victory Christ is winning
throughout the ages, and the historical realisation of
it is to us the Christian counterpart of the story of
Esther.
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