15. Chapter 1: Birth And Upbringing.
CHAPTER 1: BIRTH AND UPBRINGING.
Luke 1:5-80 The birth of the Baptist is woven along with that of Jesus into one exquisite story, in which we learn how his father, when offering incense in the temple, was informed, through an apparition of the angel Gabriel, of the approaching event, but was struck dumb for his unbelief; how the virgin Mary, after being informed by the same angel of her impending destiny, paid a lengthened visit to her cousin Elizabeth on the eve of the Baptist’s birth, and the two holy women affectionately greeted each other; and how, at the circumcising of the child, the tongue of the father was loosed, so that he was able to tell the name which his son was to bear, and at the same time to break forth into a hymn of praise for the honor conferred on his family.
Great difficulties have been felt by Christian scholars about this story, but these are considerably relieved when we perceive the truths which it embodies. The first of these is that the Baptist’s was a predestined life.
It was to emphasize this fact that the element of miracle was allowed to enter so largely into the circumstances of his birth. When events take place in the ordinary course of nature we are apt to overlook their significance; and hence it has seemed meet to the Creator sometimes to accompany his working with circumstances so unusual as to arouse attention and make the truth so plain as to be unmistakable. The parents were old and had ceased to have the hope of children. In similar circumstances, the “father of the faithful,” in times remote, received the promise of a son; and the special favor of God, thus indicated, heightened his sense of gratitude and strained his anticipations to the utmost as to the issues bound up in his son’s life. Zacharias and Elizabeth, in like manner, must have felt that their child was in a peculiar way a gift of God, and that a special importance was to attach to his life. When anything has been long desired, but hope of ever obtaining it has died out of the heart, and yet, after all, it is given, the gift appears infinitely greater than it would have done if received at the time when it was expected. The real reason, however, why in this case the gift was withheld so long was that the hour of Providence had not come. The fulness of time when the Messiah should appear, and therefore when his forerunner should come into the world, was settled in the divine plan and could not be altered by an hour. Therefore had Zacharias and his wife to wait. As a rule, the naming of children takes place in haphazard fashion, the child receiving a certain name simply because some relative has borne it before him or because the sound has pleased the fancy of father or mother, or for some similar reason. But on this occasion the name was divinely decided beforehand; and this was another indication that this child was created for a special purpose. The name John signifies The Lord is favorable, or, put more briefly, The Gift of God. He was a gift to his parents, but also to far wider circles—to his country and to mankind. Not only was this child to be a gift, but he was to be gifted; so the father was informed: “He shall be great in the sight of the Lord.” To be a great man is the ambition of every child of Adam; and the thought of having as a son one who is a great man is a suggestion which thrills every parent’s heart. Greatness is, indeed, an ambiguous word. Who is great? To be notorious, to be much in the mouths of men, to have a name which is a household word—that is the superficial conception of greatness. But such greatness may be very paltry; to as much greatness as this multitudes of the meanest and most worthless of mankind have attained. But John was to be great “in the sight of the Lord.” This is a different matter: it implies not only genuine gifts, but gifts employed for other than selfish ends. Not only, however, was it indicated in general that this child was to be a great man; but the special task was specified in which his gifts were to be employed. He was to be a prophet: “He shall be filled with the Holy Ghost from his mother’s womb, and many of the children of Israel will he turn to the Lord their God.” To be a prophet had in that country long been the height of human ambition. Yet even this was not the summit of the honor intended for the son of Zacharias. An honor far above what any prophet of the Old Testament—even an Elijah or Isaiah—had attained was to be vouchsafed to him: to be the forerunner; going before the Messiah to prepare his way.
If this was really the destiny of John it will not appear very surprising that it should have been miraculously revealed beforehand. Yet perhaps the chief lesson which we have to learn from the miracle is not that the birth of John was exceptional, but rather that every birth is more wonderful than we are apt to suppose. God saw fit to accompany his working in some cases with miracle, making his meaning unmistakable, in order that we might learn to take his meaning always. Every life is predestinated. It is not by chance that anyone is born at a particular time and in a particular place. In the period which his life covers and in the place where his lot is cast everyone has an appointed work to do and a place to fill in the divine plan; and his gifts are measured out by the divine hand to enable him to fulfill his destiny. “In my cradle,” said a great poet of our own century, “lay the map of my line of march, marked out for my whole life.”
But, if this be so, what becomes of human freedom? it may be asked. And this objection has actually been urged against this story. If, it is said, God knew beforehand what John’s course in the world was to be John could not have been a free agent. But this difficulty will not dismay us. It is only by means of human cooperation that the divine purpose in any life can be fulfilled. Anyone also may frustrate the grace of God. Multitudes do so—and not seldom the most gifted. The light of genius is to them a light that leads astray; their talents are misspent, and become a curse instead of a blessing: and they will appear before the judgment-seat with the work undone for which they were created. It is just such a great life as John’s which brings home to the mind the full extent of this danger.
What if he had failed? What if, yielding to the passions of youth or the temptations of the world, he had quenched the Spirit and, instead of being a prophet, to lead his fellowmen up to God, had been a ringleader in evil, using the force and fascination of his genius to lead men down the broad road! Is it conceivable that he was never tempted? that he never stood trembling at the parting of the ways? Is it credible that the preacher of repentance did not know the fascination of sin? No man attains to a life of honor and usefulness without passing through the crisis of decision and fighting many a battle with the world, the flesh, and the devil. It may not matter so much to the world whether or not our life fails; but it matters as much to ourselves, for it is the loss of the one chance of living, and it is an eternal loss.
Another lesson which is charmingly taught by this story is that there are good people in the worst of times.
It is in the cycle of stories with which the birth of Christ is surrounded—and along with them we reckon the incidents connected with the birth of the Baptist—that we obtain by far the most vivid glimpses of the best section of Jewish society in that age—die Stillen im Lande, who were waiting for the consolation of Israel. Indeed, without this portion of the evangelic records we should have hardly any clear information about these hidden ones and their state of mind. Yet they were essential to the rise and spread of Christianity; and, now that we have the records, we can see that they describe them exactly as they must have been.
It was an evil time. The people of God had sunk very low both in character and in fortune. It was the darkest hour, which occurs just before the dawning. The nation was enslaved to the Roman power; and its own princes, of dubious origin, were the exact reverse of the ideals of the nation’s prime. The Pharisee and the Sadducee occupied the high places of religion—the one as scribe, ruling in the synagogue, the other as priest, ruling in the temple. Life on the outside was thickly plastered over with pious rules and practices, but on the inside it was full of dead men’s bones. The publican, the sinner and the harlot flaunted their vices in the eyes of all; and the bitter critics of these abandoned classes practised the same sins in their hearts.
Even as one reads the body of the Gospels, the impression one receives is that, till Christ came and converted a few, piety was extinct. But this impression is corrected by these stories of the childhood of Jesus. As in the days of Elijah, when the great prophet complained that he was left alone in the land, his countrymen having in a body gone over to idolatry, God was able to inform him that there were seven thousand in Israel who had not bowed the knee to Baal, so in this dark age there were scattered saints in every part of the land—Elizabeths, Josephs, Marys, Simeons, Annas—who were keeping the fire of true religion unextinguished. Even in the temple—the focus of evil—a man was to be found like Zacharias, who when he had come up to Jerusalem in the order of his course to fulfil the order of his priesthood, and when he was chosen by lot to burn incense—the sign that the prayers of Israel were ascending to heaven at the hour of prayer—did not merely perform the ceremony, but accompanied the mechanical act with such fervent intercessions that an archangel was attracted from heaven to assure him that his prayers were heard. In the hymn of Mary, when she greeted Elizabeth, and in the hymn of Zacharias, when his tongue was loosed on the occasion of his child’s circumcision, we are enabled to see into the very hearts of all who were of their way of thinking and to recover the contents of their minds. The most prominent feature was an intense patriotism. They dwelt on the memories of their country’s glorious past, and into their very souls had entered the iron of its dishonor: but, above all, they fed their hopes on the promises given to Abraham and to David which still awaited their fulfilment. Combined with this was an intense love for the Holy Scriptures. In them they were brought into contact with the godly figures of the past ages, in communion with whom they found the companionship which the degenerate generation by which they were surrounded did not afford. The hymns of Mary and Zacharias are saturated with the spirit and the language of the lyrics of the Old Testament. And, along with devotion to the Scriptures, another prominent feature of the piety of these people was prayer. Assured that God’s promise could not fail they ardently pleaded for the dawn of a better day, and especially for the advent of the Messiah. When Gabriel announced to Zacharias that his prayer was heard, it is generally supposed he meant his prayer for a son. But for such a gift Zacharies had long ceased to plead: it was for the coming of the Messiah he had been praying; and this was the prayer of all like-minded people. Thinly scattered throughout the population they yet knew one another, and, as occasion allowed, blew into flame the fire of hope and devotion in one another’s hearts. They were for the most part poor and obscure, like Joseph the carpenter or the shepherds of Bethlehem; but they looked for changes which would reverse the judgments of the world by which they were condemned to neglect and contempt. Thus did Mary sing, “He hath put down the mighty from their seats, and exalted them of low degree; He hath filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he hath sent empty away.” Not only are there good people in the worst of times, but to them, however few and humble they may be, the future belongs. Principalities and powers may lord it over them; wickedness in high places may be contemptuous; the notorieties of the hour may dazzle them down; but those in whose hearts and in whose homes the altar-fire of truth, righteousness and piety is kept burning are the true kings, and their hour will come. Some day there will pass through their ranks from mouth to mouth the cry, “To us a Child is born, to us a Son is given, and the government shall be upon His shoulder.” In these stories of the childhood of Jesus we see how, in a moment, the sadness of those who were clinging to principle and waiting for the kingdom of God can be turned into joy, and their silence and sighing become hymns of praise. From Mary to Zacharias, from the shepherds to Simeon and Anna, the inspiration passed; and their closed lips were opened to hail the good time that had come. And this is a prophecy of that which will happen to all who live in the same attitude; for “light is sown for the righteous and gladness for the upright in heart.” A third lesson which is taught by the story of the Baptist’s birth and upbringing is the influence of parents.
It has been already said that the Baptist might himself have frustrated the purpose of God in his life. In order that the divine plan might be fulfilled it was necessary that his own mind and will should rise into harmony and co-operation with it. But it was also dependent on the sympathy and the efforts of his parents. Had they not appreciated the design of God in their son’s life, and brought him up with this in view, all might have been lost. The character of Zacharias and Elizabeth is described in attractive terms: “They were both righteous before God, walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless.” The father was a priest, and so there was an atmosphere of religion in the home. But this may not always be an advantage. Where religion is a man’s occupation there must be the form of godliness; but this may only make the contrast the more glaring between profession and practice. The eyes of the young are quick to detect such inconsistencies; and perhaps the most dangerous position in which a young and observant boy can grow up is a home where religion is a trade, but not a life. That incident in the temple, however, already referred to, proves that Zacharias’ religion had an inside as well as an outside. When he was offering incense, he was at the same time offering what the incense symbolized—fervent prayer. Besides, the hymn of the father and the greeting of the mother to Mary show that both were acquainted with the poetry of religion. Their religion was a faithful discharge of duty; but it was not all duty; it was a passion and an enthusiasm as well. It is said of them both that they were filled with the Holy Ghost. This is the kind of religion that wins young hearts—where they see that it is not a yoke, but the secret of blessedness. It was of special significance that in this home both parents were godly. The mother had not to weep because the boy’s father was thwarting her teaching by his example, nor the father to sigh that the mother’s unsanctified nature was hardening his son. Then, there would be the more distant influence of relatives and acquaintances of like spirit with the father and mother; for we may be certain that the friends of this family would be the excellent of the earth.
Happy is he or she who has such a father and mother, and whose childhood is nurtured in such a home. Out of such homes have come the men who have been the reformative and regenerative forces of the world. The influence of the mother is especially noteworthy; nearly all men who have been conspicuously great and good have owed much to their mothers. In this narrative the mother is less prominent than the father; but enough is told to show what manner of spirit she was of. One likes to think of the three months spent by Mary under her roof. The homage paid by Elizabeth to her on whom had been bestowed the greater honor of being the mother of the Lord was an anticipation of the humility of her son, when he said, “He must increase, but I must decrease.” Their home is said to have been “in a city of Judah,” which some have proposed to read “the city of Juttah,” a priestly town to the south of Jerusalem. Others have thought of Hebron, another priestly town in the same region. But it is useless to attempt any determination of the exact place.
Whatever the town was, here “he grew and waxed strong in spirit, and was in the deserts till the day of his showing unto Israel.” He was not an educated man in the technical sense. He did not go to Jerusalem and sit at the feet of Gamaliel. He was self-taught, as the saying is; perhaps in this case we ought rather to say God-taught. It is curious to note how many of the world’s greatest men have owed nothing to schools and colleges. Universities can polish the intellect, but can they add to its primordial mass? When the mass of intellect is great, sometimes it is all the more impressive and effective for not being polished too much. The Baptist’s discourses show that he was not ignorant of the world; so that we must not understand too literally the statement that he was in the deserts. But, if he visited towns and there observed human life, and if he visited Jerusalem and there scrutinized the state of religion, he retired to the deserts to brood over what he had seen. He brooded long. It does not appear that his ministry began much before that of Jesus; and, as Jesus was thirty years old when He went forth to preach, John must have been about the same age when he was shown unto Israel. All this time his thoughts had been accumulating; deeper and deeper, as he wandered brooding among the solitudes, grew his convictions, “as streams their channels deeper wear.” At last he came forth, clothed with a force like that of the bare elements of nature, and speaking with the impressiveness of the thunder and the vividness of the lightning. On the title page of this volume a sentence is quoted, from one of Mrs. Jameson’s books on Sacred Art, to the effect that “in devotional pictures we often see St. John the Evangelist and St. John the Baptist standing together, one on each side of Christ.” To what link of association is this conjunction due? The identity of name may have something to do with it.
Besides, the two were at least distantly connected by the tie of nature; for the Baptist’s mother is called “the cousin”—a vague word in Greek—of Mary, the mother of Jesus, and, as the Evangelist’s mother was in all probability Mary’s sister, it is likely that the Evangelist was related to the Baptist in the same way as Jesus was. But the tie which binds the two together in the Christian mind is rather that indicated by the words, “One on each side of Christ.” The two St. Johns form the extreme links of the chain of evangelic testimony. The Baptist had the privilege of being the first to point out the Messiah; the Evangelist bore the last and most consummate witness to the glory of the Son of God.